#and the way clark gripped her tighter as he buried his face into her neck

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Banished (Part 26)

*Not My Gif*

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been locked up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when she gets banished…

Post Date: 11-29-19

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 3K

~Master~

~Banished Master~

*Based off episode 2x13 of the 100, Resurrection*

Previously...

“…/N?!... /N!... Y/N!” Kane shouted as best as he could from the building crushing him. You couldn’t respond so you did the only thing you could do. You reached up above your head, grabbing onto a metal rod and pulling it down. A thwap sound coming from you as you pulled down again and again, just praying someone would come down to save you.

You could hear Kane push aside some of the building, grunting and groaning with every movement before you felt his hands on your face. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” You tried to answer but the only thing that came out was a small groan as you nodded your head. Kane was relived only slightly as he stopped you from moving the metal rod again, seeing the tear on your leg. Your other leg was buried under a beam and as soon as Kane moved it you let out a strained cry, your throat feeling like it was torn from your sudden use. “Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Kane brushed some of the hair out of your face as you nodded, a playful smirk on your lips.

“Do you know how many times I’ve defied death Kane?” You whispered through the collapsed room as you locked eyes with Kane. Even though your face showed a hint of calmness, Kane saw the dread in your eyes as he watched you struggle. You tried to push yourself up, only to fall back down with a huff. You looked around the dark room, dust and rubble everywhere as you tried to breath, only to fall into a fit of coughs. Kane wanted to help you, but he didn’t know how. He started to call out for anyone to help him but no heard.

“Kane.” You whispered in between coughs. He looked down at you, his yells ceasing, and you knew exactly what you were experiencing. Kane took your hand, giving it a squeeze as you tried your best to look at your pin leg. “Kane, I’m scared.”

“Uncle Marcus, I’m scared!” you whined as you clung to Kane’s neck, wrapping your small arms as tight as you could. Kane gave you a quick hug before pulling your 8-year-old body away from him. “Why can’t I just stay with you?” You looked up at the man as placed a smile on his face, not at all a real one but you couldn’t tell the difference.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I wish it didn’t have to be like this.” He looked around the room as a guard entered the room, nodding his head to Kane before making his way over.

You tugged on Kane’s jacket as he looked down, seeing the slight wetness in your eyes. “I want mommy.” Kane didn’t know what to say as he slacked his jaw, giving your head a quick pat. Since your parent’s death, Kane has been weird around you. He hasn’t been happy smiling at you and anytime you try to get close to him, he pulls back, settling for as little contact as possible. But what made you the most upset was that he didn’t want you. He promised he would always be there for you no matter what happened and yet here you were about to meet the guard who was going to take you in.

Kane reached over to your things, grabbing the stuffed animal you kept on top. He barely even had to show it to you before you were jumping in glee, squeezing the thing like there was no tomorrow. You hadn’t even realized when the man approached you, talking with Kane before you were tapped on your shoulder. You looked up, the man towering over you as you gripped your animal tighter. He introduced himself but you listen, too intimidated by his stature that you found yourself stuttering your name. He gave you a smile, his smile you knew was forced by the way he kept glancing to Kane to see if he was watching.

“Sir? There’s something you need to see.” One of the ark’s workers said to Kane as he left you alone. You watched him leave before turning back to the man, your hold on your toy now a death grip.

“What was your name?” you tried asking, just to ease the tensions. He man’s smile flew away almost immediately, and a shiver ran up your spine. His yellow teeth peaked through his lips as he leaned down to your level.

“You’ll call me Sir. Got it?” you nodded right away, wanting to be anywhere besides where you were. His lips turned into a menacing smirk, looking around for any spectators. “Good.” His eyes caught sight of the toy in your hand, seeing the way you held it up to block yourself from him as he grabbed, ripping it from your hands. You let out a little cry as you tried to give it back, only to receive a glare from Sir. “Toy’s are for babies. You aren’t a baby anymore, right?” you didn’t say anything, just watching as he squeezed the neck tighter.

“You’re hurting him!” you yelled, gaining a few people’s attention. Sir just laughed, blaming it on your imagination as they understood. You were starting to realize what was going on as Sir grabbed your arm, practically dragging you to the corner of the room to separate you from everyone.

“You’re not a baby, are you?” His grip on your arm was getting tighter by the second as you winced, finally deciding to nod and just agree with him. He seemed please with that answer as he shoved your stuffed animal into the trash, making you cry only momentarily as he squeezed your arm once really tight.

Kane wasn’t watching the whole debacle; in fact he only saw he both of you leave the room. He did think it was weird you were no longer holding the stuffed animal you always have with you, thinking the man was holding it for you or something. You turned around before you go to the door, pleading for Kane with your eyes but it did no good, not even with you mouthing the words “I’m scared.” made him understand how bad this was.

“It’ll be okay Y/N.” he promised as you used the little strength you held to shake your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to look to him as you fell into silence. Kane reached up, letting his fingers pull on the rod you had been, hoping someone would hear your call for help. You tried to get your mind to wander from the beam on your leg, pain coursing through your entire body.

Was Octavia okay? You knew she was in Tondc before the missile but was she still alive? And Clarke. You couldn’t find her and Lexa before, did they make it?

Something just felt off about Clarke’s whole ordeal, showing up just before the strike, and then disappearing. That doesn’t just happen.

Did something happen? Did something happen to Bellamy? Everything around you went blank as you just thought about the possibility of Bellamy getting caught, or worse dying. You were being crushed by a building and here you were worrying about Bellamy. Kane saw your creased in brow, knowing something was wrong.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. I promise.” You didn’t bother telling him that you were the least of your worries. Everyone else, Bellamy, was.

Debris started to fall around you as you covered your face, taking deep breaths only to inhale smoke. A bright light flashed across your face as Kane turned around, seeing Abby Griffin push her way through the fallen building.

“Marcus.” She breathed out heavily as she made the rest of the way to you, eyes wide as she saw you under the beam. “Y/N? It’s okay! I’m here!”

“It’s her leg.” Marcus pointed out as they begun to move more building.

“Can you feel your toes?” You nodded as Abby gave you one of her doctor ‘everything’s okay’ smile. It pained you to see but not as much as the beam. “That’s good! I think nothings broken.” Kane put a hand on your shoulder and you wanted to push it off but you didn’t, deciding not to use your strength on that.

“Can you get it off me?” You asked as Abby and Kane began to pull on the beam, only to hear a whimper not that far from you.

Kane was the first to look over there, a sense of worry before turning to Abby. “That could be Clarke.” He told her as she only gave him a simple nod, barely looking at her as you let out a little huff as realization. Kane and Abby continued to try to move the beam off your leg, ignoring the sounds of death above you.

“Don’t move!” Abby yelled as you groaned, biting your fist to contain the scream. Your blood squirted onto the beam, making Abby apologize profusely as you sit there in pain. “Your femoral artery is lacerated. We need the beam it's the only thing keeping you alive.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, “Hell of bandage.” You joked, trying to ease the tension in the collapsed building as Kane reassured you before telling Abby to go find Clarke. The woman fell silent again as her jaw locked. You took pity on her, Clarke wasn’t the same girl she knew, no one was.

“Abby, Go find her.” You grabbed Kane’s arm gaining his attention before shaking your head.

“She’s not here.” Kane didn’t believe you, making you scoff as he turned towards Abby again.

“Abby.”

“You still don’t see it, do you?” You mumbled as Kane just stared at you. You laughed, a few drops of blood coming up as you sighed. “Clarke comes speeding into Tondc hours after sending you, trying to get Bellamy on the radio, the secretive meeting with the commander, then they both go missing?” Kane still looked confused as you pulled on the metal rod once more, closing your eyes. “Clarke knew they were going to drop a bomb on us.”

“How did you know that?” Abby asks between huffs as she pushed the rubble away, locking eyes with you as you just shrugged.

“I know Lexa. And I know Clarke. She claims to do everything for her people and yet she leaves them all to die, leaves you to die. Leaves me to die.” It wouldn’t have been the first time Clarke Griffin left you to die on earth. “She’s thinking like a leader. Probably Lexa’s idea, probably said something like conceding the battle will inspire people to fight.”

The moment the words left your mouth the ceiling fell in, knocking Abby and Kane both away from you and burying you even more.

You couldn’t really feel anything, a slab of the building resting atop your stomach as you tried to breathe, your eyes closed to keep the room from spinning. You could hear Abby calling for you, Kane’s voice mixing in a little as well as her flashlight passed over your eyes, pulling you from your stupor.

Neither Abby or Kane could move, both across the room from you as they yelled for you.

“I’m okay.” You whispered, warning sighs of relief from both but Kane’s was more prominent. He was terrified, he couldn’t lose you, not all but most certainly not this way. “I’m so cold.” You mumbled, shivering a little but having no strength to warm yourself up, all your muscles begging for release from your crushing weight on your stomach.

“I know. I know, I’m right here.” Kane said as you pried your eyes opened, seeing his distraught state before closing them again. Abby began apologizing, saying it was her fault for Clarke’s actions because she was her daughter. She tried justifying Clarke’s actions by saying they were the ones who taught her on the Ark, their past providing the instructions for Clarke’s betrayal. You didn’t see it as a betrayal, no matter how many ways you looked at this, it made sense.

“After everything we’ve done, do we even deserve to survive?” Abby asked as you started to listen again, the pounding in your head intensified.

“You sent us down here to die.” You coughed out, the rock on you bobbing with every breath until you settled. “You sent us down here for stealing, treason, being born, and self-defensive murder and told us to survive after calling us expendable, after saying the only way we could be useful now is dying or not. “The earth isn’t forgiving, so why should we be?” If the earth was forgiving then maybe you wouldn’t have lost your parents, you wouldn’t have been tortured, you wouldn’t have killed so many people. “Everyone does bad things for their survival, and some things cause you or others great pain. That pain doesn’t go away. You learn to live with it and create more. It’s what being human is.”

As your vision fell into darkness you couldn’t help but think of Bellamy, just hoping that amount Weather hadn’t discovered Bellamy, that your friends were safe in the mountain. You needed to know Bellamy was alright.

He had to be alright.

“Y/N!?” Kane yelled at you. His voice sounded like he was a million miles away, running straight at you at the speed of light. “Y/N! Wake up!” You groaned, shifting your head as it felt like you were being split open. Abby pushed the rocks away from herself, screaming in pain as she got free and came to you. “Just hold on Y/N, you’ll be okay.” She promised as she tied a tourniquet around your leg. You could hear the voices above you but couldn’t make out any words, unlike Abby and Kane. They kept telling you people were coming but all you could do was sit there as the cold crept over your skin, the pain from your laceration seemed to be getting worse.

Octavia worked together with the Skypeople and the Grounders to pull the rocks away, sunlight entering the hole you’ve dug yourself into but you couldn’t open your eyes, only hearing her voice.

“We have three survivors!” She yelled to everyone outside before she got closer, “Abby! Kane! Y/N!” Octavia rushed over to you, looking you over as she saw your chest rising and falling. “Thank god.” She sighed in relief at the sight of her best friend, bruised and barely breathing, but still alive. “We’ll get you out of here.”

It took a while but soon you were pulled out with a stretcher, the tourniquet on your leg helping you from bleeding out as you still hadn’t opened your eyes, the daylight now replaced with the night sky. Octavia wrapped a blanket over you as you nodded, barely moving your hand as you grabbed hers. She took it, being gentle with it as she wiped some of the blood from your face. You couldn’t say anything but you didn’t need to as Octavia’s eyes started to water at the sight of you. You opened your eyes slightly, using the last of your strength to smile at her.

Octavia looked up, seeing her boyfriend enter the camp as you let go of her hand, letting her running to him and kiss him. You moved your eyes toward the entrance, seeing Clarke and Lexa enter side by side scathed free. You would’ve scoffed if you had the energy but it was coming back slowly but not fast enough.

“Y/N needs blood! Now!” Abby yelled as Clarke started looking around, landing on your body as she turned to Lexa. Lexa was just staring at you, a frown etched on her face before the grounders around her started chanting.

“Heda! Heda! Heda!” They said as Alexa tore her eyes off you, looking over her fallen men.

“What happened here will not stand!” She began as Kane squatted next to you, holding his hand over his face to hold back his tears. He wanted to stay with you but knew that he needed to help as Abby told everyone to get back to work. With great resistance he left you, fixing your blanket before turning his back.

“With our two people working together we will win this war Clarke.” Lexa said as Clarke didn’t say anything, only looking at you as Lexa joined her. “She’ll be alright.” She assured Clarke but deep down she didn’t know if she believed it. “She’s strong.”

The girls separated as Clarke made her way to Octavia, Lexa walked towards you, her guards following behind her. “She comes with us.” Lexa’s orders as the grounders nod, beginning to pickup your stretcher before Abby stopped them.

“She needs blood.” She told Lexa who remained unfazed, moving her eyes from you to Abby. “She’s not strong enough.” You opened your eyes, the slight pain in your eyelids causing you to groan.

“She’s strong.” Lexa repeated to the other Griffin as she paused, telling her guards to release you. “Give her blood. Then she fights.” She started to walk away before Abby jumped in her path.

“She won’t be ready! She can barely move!” She argued as you did your best to look at them.

“I want to fight.” Abby turned to look at you, shock on her face at your determination. Your raspy voice even making Lexa turn around.

“And you will.” She walked off, Abby leaving soon after her, finding Clarke. You let your eyes close again, focusing on your shallowed breathing before you felt yourself being lifted into the air. Kane, Sinclair, and Jackson all took a hand in picking you up, carrying you into a caravan back to Camp Jaha.

What did you think?! 😊

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[insideabunker]

The Games: Chapter 12

 The dream was the same as always, darkness and the sound of glass shattering followed by silence and the terrible sting of the cold night air.  The wind bit at her nose and cheeks and something pressed down on her shoulder, crushing her tiny body with its weight.

Lexa woke with a start, her senses slowly returning as she peered around the dark space.  The shades were down, but sunlight slipped in through the cracks, casting eerie shadows across the room and illuminating the blurry figure hovering over her.  She rubbed her eyes, her vision finally focusing on the frowning face of Raven Reyes, who knelt over the bed, clutching twin paper cups of dining hall coffee.  She placed one of the cups on the bedside table and tilted her head toward the door of the room, which she disappeared through without a word.

Lexa untangled herself from the sheets, taking great care not to wake Clarke, who remained tucked into the brunette's chest, fast asleep.  She groped in the semi-dark for her shoes, slipping them on as she grabbed the coffee and snuck out of the room. The door had barely closed behind her before Raven pounced.

"You're sleeping over now?  Is there a U-Haul parked outside somewhere?"

Lexa gripped her coffee cup a little tighter, rattled by the girl's intensity and nowhere near awake enough to handle the third degree.

"What time is it?"

"Five AM, now answer my question."

"Clarke asked me to stay."

The corners of Raven's mouth rounded downward into a scowl, her eyes narrowing in disapproval.  "Did you manage to convince Clarke to get her leg looked at?"

Lexa sipped the coffee guiltily, trying to buy enough time to come up with a good excuse.

"No."

Raven rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the answer.  "Damn it, Woods, I was counting on you!" 

"I'm sorry."  Lexa fidgeted with her coffee cup, nervously wondering why she hadn't tried harder to talk sense into Clarke.  Then again, she thought, why hadn't Raven if it was so important?

"What about you? You could have stayed and helped me instead of just disappearing."

Raven scowled.  "I did not just disappear.  I went to find our coach, who was off screaming to the IOC about that sad-ass excuse for a referee.  Kane left right after the game ended; otherwise, he would have insisted on Clarke getting examined."  She glanced at the door, lowering her voice.  "Did you at least get a look at it?"

Lexa nodded.

"And?"

"Honestly?"  The goalie shuffled in place, rubbing her neck nervously.  "I mean, I'm not a doctor," she skirted the question, swallowing the guilt that welled up as she thought about the angry, purple bruising along Clarke's thigh.  "She said that if it didn't feel better this morning, she'd have it checked out by your trainers."

Frustrated, Raven ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the roots as she clenched her jaw tightly.  Lexa watched the muscles in her cheeks flex as she ground her teeth together, her irritation evident.  After a few moments of tense silence, Lexa cleared her throat, attempting to change the subject.

"Look, I don't know Clarke that well but..."

"That's right." The statement seemed to call Raven back from whatever had been on her mind. Her attention snapped to Lexa, completely focused on the goalie's features as she stared her down.  "You don't know her that well, but I do."  She let out a sharp breath, sipping more of her coffee as she surveyed the hallways to make sure they were still alone.

"Woods, listen to me.  I've known that girl since she was seventeen.  Clarke is my best friend."  

Raven ran a  hand over her tired face, massaging the slightly purple bags that had formed under her dark eyes.  "She's more than stubborn; she's downright unreasonable.  Winning gold means everything to her. She's not going to let anything get in the way of that, even if it means risking a permanent injury."

Raven's face softened.  "Do you know why it took Clarke more than a year to rehabilitate her knee?"

Lexa shook her head, waiting for the American goalie to illuminate her.

"It took her so long because she nearly re-injured it halfway through rehab.  She was pushing too hard, and she put a micro tear in the cadaver ligament she'd received."  Raven stared at her seriously.  "Look, if you're going to be sticking around, you've got to understand how intense Clarke is.  She doesn't know when to quit.  She'll work herself into her grave if you let her."

Lexa's face fell, her guilt growing as she realized how little she'd done to convince Clarke to get her leg appropriately treated.

"So," the American goaltender stared at her Canadian counterpart skeptically. "Are you?"

Lexa looked up, confused by Raven's question.  "Am I what?"

"Are you sticking around?"

Lexa bit her lip apprehensively, unsure how much she wanted to admit to Clarke's closest friend.

"I'd like to," she paused.  "If she'll let me."

Raven bowed her head, staring at her toes thoughtfully.  "Maybe she will,"  she looked up, her expression deadly serious.  "But, if you care about her you'll help her make the right decision, especially when she refuses to make it for herself."

-----

"Is it just me or is it cold in here?"

Clarke rolled her eyes at her father, smiling at his telltale smirk as he beamed down at her.  Warm yellow light from the afternoon sun spilled through the windows of the old rink, making Jake's face glow.

"Very funny, Dad."

"I'm just saying."  His eyes sparkle with mischief. "I remember this place being warmer when you were a kid."

He shoved his daughter with his elbow, smiling at her reverentially as he gave her the once-over.  "How ya been, Kid?"

Clarke shrugged.  "Tired."

"Of the game?"

"No," she shook her head.  "That's the one thing I never get tired of."

Clarke sighed and leaned into her father's side, burrowing herself into the old, flannel lined corduroy jacket that he was never without.  She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of old spice, bay rum, and stale tobacco that always seemed to cling to him.

"Still smoking?"

"I'll quit when I'm dead."

"Not funny." She frowned, surprised to find that a lump was forming at the back of her throat.  "I miss you," Clarke barely managed to eke out as she forced back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I miss you too, Kid."  Jake wrapped one of his strong arms around her shoulders and pulled her tighter to him, gazing back at the rink as the shotgun crack of a slap shot broke the silence of the arena.

They stared down at the ice, watching as the puck sailed into the outstretched glove of a goalie.  Clarke watched at the goaltender curiously, recognizing the curly tendrils that peaked out from underneath her helmet.

"Who's the sieve?"

"I, um..."  Clarke fumbled for a way to explain Lexa's odd appearance in her dreamscape.  "Dad, what's she doing here?"

"You tell me, Kid." Jake smiled as he watched the masked figure discard the puck from her glove and crouch lower, readying herself for another shot.  "Never knew you had a thing for goalies."

Clarke felt the blood rush to her face, the blush spreading all the way across her cheeks to the tip of her ears.  "Dad!"

"What?"  He flashed a grin at her.  "You old man can't ask about your love life?"

Clarke blushed even harder, sure that by now, she had turned beet red.  "It's just," she paused thinking of all the conversations they'd never been able to have.  "I never got a chance to tell you..."

"That you're into brunettes?"

"Dad..." Clarke narrowed her eyes, imploring him to solemnity.  "Please, be serious."

Jake's face softened as he pulled her closer.  He stared down at her with a look the reflected nothing but pure, unconditional adoration.  "Kid, why didn't you just tell me?"

"I hadn't really figured it out yet."  Clarke sighed, burying herself farther into her father's side, thoroughly embarrassed.

Jake patted his daughter's shoulder reassuringly, thinking for a moment. "I always wondered why you never went through that boy-crazy phase your mother kept warning me was coming."

 "I thought I was just focused," she shrugged.  "Are you mad?"

There was a pause, and then to Clarke's surprise, a giant roar burst from Jake's lips.  "Kid..." His sides shook as deep belly laughter doubled him over, making his eyes water.  "My dream in life was that I’d never lose you to some loser boyfriend."  He wiped tears from his eyes, taking a moment to let his chuckling subside.  "I couldn't be happier."

It took a moment, but Jake finally managed regained his composure.  He winked at his daughter.  "So you like this girl?"

"I do," she nodded.

"Like, or like?"  He emphasized the last word, cocking one eyebrow.

Clarke avoided his gaze, feeling suddenly awkward.  She shuffled her feet nervously.  "I haven't known her very long.  I'm not sure yet.”

Jake's expression became wistful.  "You know," he paused, pondering something for a moment.  "I knew how I felt about your mother five seconds after I met her."  He nudged his daughter in the ribs, playfully.  "Some things, Clarke, you just know."

Clarke continued to stare at her shoes.  "You should see her play; she's so good."

"As good as you?"

Clarke's shoulders slumped, her face falling at the question.  "I'm not so sure about that these days."

"Hey..." She felt her father's fingers under her chin as he tiled her head up to look him in the eyes.  "Don't ever say that."

Clarke tried to look away, but her father held her gaze.  "I didn't teach you hockey because I loved the game.  I taught you hockey because from the moment you first put on skates I couldn't keep you off the ice.  You love to play, and you're great at it; the best."

Clarke finally looked up, acknowledging the honesty in her father's words.  She reached out a hand, squeezing her bad knee as it began to ache. "I'm not sure how long I've got left, Dad."

Jake nodded, his face solemn.  "None of us do, but you know what I always say."

"Find what you love and let it kill you."  They spoke the words at the same time, both smiling at the well-worn expression.

"Can you stay for a bit?"

Jake sighed, his eyes turning glassy.  "'Fraid not."

Clarke clenched her jaw tightly, refusing to let their last moment be a sad one.  She burrowed back into her father's side, wrapping her arms around his wiry frame as his arms encircled her one last time.

"I love you, Kid."

"I love you too, Dad."  Suddenly, the rink was dark.  The pressure of her father's strong, sturdy arms disappeared, and all Clarke could feel was a rush of cold air.  Then her eyes flickered, and she was awake, suddenly aware of a new set of arms wrapping themselves around her waist.

Lexa shifted behind her, pulling the blonde closer as she slid under the covers of the bed.  Clarke stretched a bit, turning herself so that they were facing one another.

"Hey."

"Hey," Lexa smiled apprehensively, clumsily rubbing at the back of her neck.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's ok."  Too tired to be concerned with the intimacy of the gesture, Clarke tucked herself closer into Lexa, leaning her head into the crook of the larger girl's arm.  "Where did you go?"  She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of deodorant and soap.

The goalie kissed the top of Clarke's head and ran a  hand through her disheveled locks, pushing stray blonde strands out of her face.  It was a tender gesture that, ordinarily, would have made Clarke anxious.  To the blonde's surprised, however, she found herself closing her eyes in contentment.

"That feels nice."

Lexa chuckled.  "Speaking of how things feel," she cringed, knowing that her attempt at a smooth transition had been clumsy at best. "How's the leg?"

Cautiously, Clarke began to move her ailing limb.  She stretched the leg, extending it nearly all the way before she winced at the tenderness.  "Well, I can move it at least.  She wiggled her toes, thankful to feel that she had full motion in all of them.  "No numbness or tingling in my foot."

The Canadian bit her lip, nervous to inquire any further.  "And the pain?"

Clarke attempted to bend the limb in the opposite direction, finding that it was much stiffer and more sore upon flexion.  "Well, it doesn't feel great."  She grimaced, "but, then again, it's felt worse."

"Can I take a look?"  Lexa tensed, bracing for Clarke to become defensive.  For a moment the smaller woman stiffened, but the tension in her small frame eased a second later, and Lexa felt her nod into her chest.

The brunette pushed her body upright, pulling back the covers just enough to expose Clarke's legs.  Slowly, she pushed the leg of Clarke's sweatpants up, careful not to jostle her limb as she moved.  Lexa recoiled at the sight of the angry purple bruising that seemed to have grown darker overnight.  

"Clarke," she hesitated, not wanting to upset the fierce girl tucked into her side.  "The bruising looks worse than it did last night."

Clarke nodded, surprisingly calm.  "That's normal.  She raised herself on her hands, chancing a glance at the leg.  Clarke frowned, growling in frustration as observed that the damage had not magically disappeared.  "That's just the blood losing oxygen as it raises to the surface of the injury."

"Wow," Lexa sounded genuinely impressed by her companion's savvy.  "Check you out, Dr. Griffin."

Clarke rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, right."  She collapsed back against the pillows, groaning in discouragement.

"Clarke," Lexa hesitant, afraid to push the issue any further.  "You said you'd have your trainer look at your leg if it was still bothering you today."

"I know but..."  Clarke rolled closer, settling her weight against Lexa's body.  "Can we just lay here for a while? Please?"  She cuddled up against Lexa's side, sliding a hand underneath her t-shirt and trailing her fingers along sinew and rib.

Lexa shivered at Clarke's touch, her better judgment melting away as goosebumps formed along her skin.  "Yeah, sure.  We can lie here for a little longer."

Lexa shuffled down into the covers and slipped an arm over Clarke's waist, desperately trying not to grin like a fool.  She knew she should feel guilty for giving in so easily, but something about Clarke's touch, something about the way she said "please," tore at Lexa's resolve.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

Clarke shook her head.  "I'm not sure I can sleep right now."  She continued to gently stroke Lexa's side with the blades of her fingers.  "Can you talk to me for a while?  Just until I fall back asleep?"

Lexa let her hand dip below Clark's sweatshirt.  She ran a flat palm over her spine and began to rub slow circles over the tense muscles of her back.  She felt almost giddy at the way Clarke' hummed into her chest, clearly enjoying herself.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Clarke breathed contentedly, thinking for a moment.  "I was pretty awful to you last night.  Why did you take care of me?"

Lexa considered how to answer the question, ultimately deciding that honestly was her best option.  She allowed herself a moment to gather the right words, and when the moment was over, stated simply, "Because, you matter to me."

"We just met though,"  Clarke peered up at her, her fingers stilling as she stared up inquisitively.  "How..." she hesitated, trying to understand how Lexa could be so sure about something in so little time.  "I mean, why?"

Unable to articulate her answer, Lexa shrugged.  "Some things you just know, I guess."

Clarke nearly froze at the brunette's words, the sound of them ringing in her ears as she remembered her dream.  Determined that it must be a coincidence, Clarke relaxed again, burying her face back into the crook of Lexa's arm.

"Well, thank you for staying."

"Of course."  Lexa leaned in, allowing her chin to rest on the top of the blonde's head.  She closed her eyes and continued to rub soothing circles up and down Clarke's back.  "What else do you want to talk about?"

Clarke thought for a moment, contemplating her options.  "Tell me about where you grew up."

Lexa laughed.  "It was called Rat Portage until 1905."

"Dare I ask why?"  Clarke laughed softly into the worn fabric of Lexa's t-shirt.

"I'm sure you can guess.  The goalie shifted her long frame, allowing Clarke to rest more of her weight on her.

"It's small, not as small as your hometown, but small enough.  In the summer, it's full of tourists and mosquitoes.  In the winter the only things to do are hole up in a bar and drink, or play hockey."

Lexa fought a grin, giggling to herself.  "Actually, there was one other thing to do in the winter."

She pinched Clarke's side playfully and earned a finger jab in return. "Very funny," Clarke murmured.  "I suppose that means you broke lots of hearts."

Lexa scoffed.  "Hardly.  There wasn't exactly a plethora of sapphically inclined girls at Beaver Brae Secondary School."

Clarke choked on a laugh. "That wasn't the name of your high school, was it?"

"It was, indeed.  Our mascot, somewhat incredibly, was the Bronco."

"Wait," Clarke raised one eyebrow.  "Your high school was named Beaver Brae, but your mascot was a horse?"

Lexa shrugged.  "It's Canada. We try to avoid redundancy by not doubling down on beaver themed everything."

"Anyway," the brunette smirked, tracing the edge of the dimple that appeared in Clarke's cheek each time she smiled.  "There were a few curious girls at a handful of parties, but I was hardly breaking anyones heart.  Most people didn't come out until after high school."

Clarke raised her eyebrows inquisitively.  "Was it hard being out where you grew up?"

Lexa's brow furrowed in thought, her mouth puckering to side as she considered the question.  "Maybe a little," she shrugged.  "I mean, Canadians don't care that much about gay stuff.  Mostly, Kenora was just small.  There weren't that many of us.  Not much point in being out if there isn't anyone to date."  Lexa ran the tip of her finger over the helix of Clarke's ear, eliciting a soft moan from the blonde. "People knew though.  Nobody gave me too hard a time."

Clarke continued to savor the feeling of Lexa's touch as the brunette's fingers moved from the top of her ear to the soft skin of her neck.  She closed her eyes, relishing the way it made her spine tingle.

"What about you?"

Clarke's eyelids fluttered open.  She stared at the olive-skinned girl whose fingers were now tracing the lines of her ribs. "What about me?"

"What were you like in high school?"

"Focused." Clarke rolled her eyes, thinking back to life in her tiny Minnesotan town.  "I had a boyfriend for about six months during my sophomore year, but he took too much time away from hockey.  "Plus," Clarke made a face remembering the hardships of making out when two sets of braces were involved.  "He wasn't a very good kisser, so I ended things."

Lexa tried not to laugh.  "Poor guy.  He must have been devastated."

"Perhaps, but I'm sure Brock Larson managed to move on."  

Lexa bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "You high school boyfriend's name was Brock?"

"Yes, it was." Clarke laughed at the memory fo her first boyfriend, a tall, skinny young man with sandy blonde hair who had been the object of every sixteen-year-old girl's affection.  "My friends thought I was crazy to break up with him," she smiled.  "He made boy's varsity as a freshman and was related to Dave Christian on his mother's side."

"Dave who?"  Lexa cocked her head to the side, lost as to about who Clarke was talking.

"Dave Christian?"  Clarke waited for Lexa to recognize the name. "The Lake Placid Olympics? Miracle on Ice?  NHL player?"

Lexa shrugged.

"He is one of the eight Olympic hockey players who've come from my town."

"Damn!" Lexa's eyes went wide "Are you guys running a breeding program?"

"We have an algorithm," Clarke deadpanned.  "Anyway, dad got sick right after I broke up with Brock.  After he died, I kept to myself and concentrated on hockey. I had to focus on getting a scholarship.  I didn't exactly have time for romance."

"So not much has changed?"  Lexa grinned mischievously, squeezing Clarke's hip.

"Very funny."  Clarke shifted her weight, settling into Lexa's chest. She laced her fingers into the brunette's hair and began running her hand through the mess of wavy curls.  "I almost had a girlfriend in college, but it didn't work out."

Lexa savored the feeling of Clarke's fingers as they massaged her scalp. "Why not?" 

 "It's complicated."  Clarke continued to work her fingers through the tangles in Lexa's hair.  "People knew I was bisexual at college, but not at home.  She wanted to date openly, and that was more than I could handle at the time."

"And now? "

Clarke sighed.  "I think people back home suspect, but they've stopped asking.  Besides, I've been so focused on the game for the last ten years that I've barely had time for myself, let alone anyone else."

"That sounds familiar."  Lexa pulled Clarke closer. She enjoyed the feeling of the warm body pressed against her and thought of the many long nights she’d spent on the road, curled up in bed alone in a dingy hotel room.  "It would be nice though."

"Hmm?"  Clarke's hand stilled.

"To have someone."  The goalie stroked the small of Clarke's back with the blade of her thumb, leaving goosebumps along her skin.

Clarke closed her eyes, imagining for a brief moment a life where obligations didn't bind her to team and county.  "It would be," she smiled sadly, "but I owe too much to my team to lose focus right now."

Lexa nodded, trying not to feel disappointed at Clarke's response.  "Well..."  She leaned in, kissing the top of Clarke's head absentmindedly.  "Maybe, one day, you and I will owe nothing more to our teams."

The blonde buried her face in the crook of Lexa's neck, inhaling the scent of her.  "I hope so."

For a while longer they lay there, bodies enmeshed, minds close to sleep but never quite there.  Finally, Clarke groaned, the ache in her leg getting the better of her.  She pushed herself up on her elbows wincing as she pulled back the covers.  "I think I better try to stretch this thing if I want to play on it again."

Lexa bolted upright at the statement, utterly confused.  "I thought you said you were going to get it looked at?”

Clarke swung her legs over the far side of the bed, cautiously testing the amount of weight the injured limb could support.  She stood up, wincing a little as she transferred a bit of her balance onto it.  "I said I'd get it looked at if it wasn't better by today.  It feels better."

"It looks worse."

"It always looks worse when it's healing,” Clarke said, brushing off the Canadian’s concern. She began hobbling towards the bathroom, and Lexa jumped up behind her, ready to catch her the moment the leg buckled.  Remarkably the blonde managed to bear weight on it, limping into the bathroom on her own to retrieve the bottle of Motrin.  She shuffled back towards the bed slowly and lowered herself onto the mattress with great effort.

"Lexa, it's a bad bruise.  I'll be fine after some rest and ice.  Besides, we don't have a game for two more days."

"Clarke..."

"Lexa, I'm fine."  She swallowed several pills and scooted back on the bed, stretching the leg out in front of her as she reached for her toes.  Carefully she bent forward, tensing her jaw as she began stretching the tender muscles.

"But..."

"I'm fine!"  The words came out through clenched teeth, though Clarke managed to smile through the pain.  "I promise."

Unsure of how to proceed, Lexa hung stiffly in front of the bed.  She stared down awkwardly at the frustratingly determined captain, racking her brain for a solution.  Thankfully, Clarke offered her one.

"Look, if you're that worried, we can meet up tonight.  That way you can check on me."

"Meet up?"

"Yes, for drinks, maybe food.”  Clarke smirked, as though Lexa had just missed the most obvious implication in the world. 

"Food?"  Lexa's eyebrows nearly shot up to the top of her head when she realized what Clarke was suggesting.  "Like, in front of other people?'

"Unless you'd like to meet in secret."  Clarke grimaced, continuing to stretch her stiff and bruised leg.  "Or do you not want to meet at all?"

"No!"  Lexa bit her lip, blushing at her outburst.  "I mean, yes, I do. I'd like that."

Clarke rolled her eyes at the sudden ineptitude of the usually cocky girl, relishing the effect her invitation was having on her.  "Ok, but let's meet off campus. " Clarke massaged her thigh, trying to work out the stiffness in the muscles.  "Some of the girls went out into the city the other night.  They said the Budnamu Brewery was great.  Would 7 pm be alright?"

"I... Yeah, of course."

“Good, then it's a date."

"A date?"

"Yes, a date." Clarke deadpanned. "I mean, it's been a while, but I'm pretty sure the kids still call it that."

"It's a date," Lexa nodded dumbly, stunned that Clarke was asking her out, and in public no less.

"I should shower." Clarke struggled to her feet and cast a furtive glance at the bathroom door.

"You should shower."  Lexa's head wagged up and down, too dumbfounded to pay much attention to what Clarke was saying.

"Lexa...?"

The goalie looked up, snapping back to reality.  "Oh, Right!"  She cleared her throat, trying not to turn red.  "You shower.  I should go."  Lexa grabbed her sweatshirt from the chair in the corner, hurriedly pulling it on over her head as she mussed out her wild mane and shoved her feet into the boots that lay haphazardly by the bed.

"7 pm at Budnamu Brewery?

Clarke nodded.

"And you promise to get your leg look at if it starts bothering you?"

Clarke nodded.

“Ok.  I’ll see you at seven."

Lexa turned to leave but was stopped by a small hand grabbing her elbow.

"Wait."  Clarke bit her lip nervously, hesitating.  Slowly, she leaned up on the tiptoes of her uninjured leg and pressed her lips to the corner of Lexa's mouth, delivering a soft kiss.

"Thank you for staying."

---------

Lexa was in a daze as she drifted down the hallway and boarded the waiting elevator, nearly forgetting to press the button for the first floor.  Clarke had asked her on a date.  It felt almost too good to be true, and yet it had happened.  Lexa had the text confirming the details on her phone.  She could barely contain the smile on her face as she floated through the elevator doors and into the cavernous lobby of the dormitory.  Nothing in the world could bring her down at the moment. 

"Lexa Woods?”

Nothing, except for the sound of her name coming from the stern looking man in the dark grey suit.  He approached her from the cafeteria, and out of the corner of her eye Lexa watched as Raven slipped away, apparently having just finished a conversation with him.  The man held his hand out for her.   "Marcus Kane.  I'm the head coach of Team USA Women's hockey."

Lexa took his hand and shook it firmly.  "Nice to meet you, Sir."

He smiled politely, his appearance losing some of its gruffness.  "May I speak with you a moment?" He gestured to a small lounge just off the entrance to the main lobby.

Reluctantly, she agreed, following him to a suite of armchairs tucked in the back.  The goalie took a seat across from him, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded in her ears as he watched her.

"So," he began earnestly. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude.  I hear you cared for an injured player of mine last night, Clarke Griffin."

Lexa nodded apprehensively.  “I did."

Kane looked solemn as he contemplated the young women across from him.  "I understand that you two have been spending some time together.  Am I correct in that understanding?"

Lexa nodded again, her pulse racing as she worried about the direction in which their conversation seemed to be headed.  "That's correct, Sir."

He furrowed his brow, his expression grave.  "Miss Woods, given your respective positions on opposing teams, you understand that the two of you spending time together could be construed as…” Kane searched carefully for the right word.  “Inappropriate?”

“Yes.”

Kane purses his lips for a moment, analyzing her answer skeptically.  Finally, his expression softened.  “Luckily, I considered Miss Griffin's integrity to be unimpeachable.  However, should the two of you choose to continue to see each other socially, I would advise you to proceed with the utmost discretion.”

Lexa nodded vigorously.  "I understand, Sir."

"Good then." Appearing satisfied, Kane patted the armrest absentmindedly. "In that case, Miss Woods, I only need to ask one more thing of you."

Lexa swallowed, dreading his next question.

"What's that, Sir?"

"I need to tell me whether or not my team Captain is hiding an injury from me."

Lexa's heart nearly jumped out of her chest.  It pounded like a bass drum, thumping in her ears and drowning out the hum of the lobby around them.

"I... I don't."

"The truth, Miss Woods."

At that moment Lexa's conscience was entirely at war with itself.  Lie, and she put Clarke at risk.  Tell the truth and she would betray her trust.  Neither one was an attractive option, and she shifted nervously in her seat, unwilling to choose either.

"Lexa..."

She sighed, resigning herself to the lesser of two evil.  Surely, Clarke couldn't fault her for being concerned.

"She says it's fine but, it looks pretty bad.  She can walk on it a little but.…” She bit her lip nervously.  "I think she's probably fine," she back peddled, attempted to reassure him. “Maybe she should have a doctor look at it though, just to be safe."

Kane smiled at her, smoothing out the wrinkles in his pant legs as he rose.  "Thank you for your honesty, Miss Woods."

With that, he started towards the elevators, leaving Lexa to dread her decision.

[poisonmurderthot]

BatFlash Week: Death

Hey guys I wrote another thing for my favorite rare pair! I hope everyone enjoys this!

The casket was too small. In his many years doing this he never saw a small casket before. It shook him to his core. Faces flitted in and out of his vision as he stared at the small casket. Jason was only 15. Bruce nodded as people offered him condolences, patting him on the shoulder as they left the funeral, hurrying away from the incoming rain. He was supposed to be putting dirt on the casket but… he couldn’t. The dirt was clenched in his hand, but his fist was shaking. Clark was the last one to linger as the rain began to fall. A few drops at first, but it didn’t matter. Alfred was ever his dutiful self and had brought an umbrella, opening it up at the first sounds of rain. Clark squeezed Bruce’s shoulder, making the man glare. How dare he treat him like a child? Clark opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Alfred shook his head at him. Clark sighed and wrapped an arm around Lois, listening for once and heading to his car. Dick and Barbara were behind Alfred, but frankly Bruce wished they would leave too.

“Alfred?” He rasped out, making the man startle.

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“May I have some time alone?”

Alfred frowned but nodded anyways, “only if you take this umbrella.” Bruce gave a weak smile and nodded, taking the umbrella from him as the rain poured down even harder. Jason loved the rain. It was… had been an excuse to stay inside with Alfred all day to cook and read. The quiet splashing of his family retreating disappeared quickly in the sounds of the rain as the dirt fell from his hand. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to apologize to this broken coffin, it was wrong. He should be hugging Jason, holding him and telling him he was sorry. He should have gotten Jason the help he needed, taught him coping mechanisms, just… something.

“Bats?”

The familiarity of the nickname and the sudden voice made him jump, though of course he didn’t show it. Bruce turned around to face the speaker, finding Wally West standing there, soaked to the bone. His red curly hair was plastered to his forehead and was dripping water into his eyes even as he shook it out. “Wally? I didn’t know you were here…”

Wally smiled sadly and shrugged, “I’ve been taking more of a wallflower persona lately. It was something Jason taught me.”

“Why are you still here?”

Wally frowned and reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out something in a ziplock bag. “I’m glad I had the idea to put this in plastic before I left today. I wanted to give you this. I… uh well… I made it when I heard the news. I loved Jason; he was like a little brother to me. You probably never noticed but we hung out a lot.” He handed the small book to Bruce and rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a bunch of pictures from those times and thought you would want them. So, and I know this is silly okay? But I made you a small photo album with them. I hope it helps.” Bruce looked at the book with wide eyes then back up at Wally. Wally’s eyes were red, and his pale skin was flushed from the tears he had been trying to hide.

“I knew you two were close. I was so happy Jason had someone other than me or Alfred to talk to.” Bruce squeezed the album close and did the unthinkable. He dropped the umbrella and pulled Wally into a hug. “Thank you, Wally. For this and for being his friend.”

Wally chuckled thickly, the tears finally catching up to him. “Don’t thank me Bats, I’m just glad I get to share the memories with you. I’m sorry by the way. We were supposed to hang out the night it happened, I just thought something came up. You know how it is.”

Bruce let go of Wally and pushed him back, holding him so they were an arms length apart. “Don’t apologize, just think of the good, for me please.”

Wally sniffled, “okay I will.” He smiled and laughed, “hey. It’s not traditional funeral food, but do you think Alfred could help us whip up some chili dogs? Or is it bad that after all this talk of Jason is making me crave them?”

Bruce laughed with the redhead and shook his head, “I think chili dogs for today sound amazing”

$$

Wally’s hand shook as he adjusted his grip on his uncle’s (empty) casket. He was at the front, Hal Jordon was next to him, tears streaming his face. Wally kept his eyes trained on the doors ahead of him, he couldn’t stand to look at the people whose eyes were full of pity and shook their heads at him. Someone cleared their throat as he passed, making him turn. Alfred was there. He was sitting next to Dick and the ‘new’ Robin. Wally didn’t learn his name yet. Alfred smiled at him and he found himself offering a small smile in return. Alfred was the grandfather he never had. Wally turned his attention back to the front, his knees shaking with relief when he saw he was a few steps away from finishing this spectacle. He couldn’t handle the stares anymore. Poor little Wally West wasn’t wanted by his own parents, and then his uncle took him in and now he’s gone! What a sad life! They could suck it. He slid the casket into the hearse and stepped back, reaching out for his Aunt Iris’s hand which she grabbed gratefully. She gave it a squeeze as people began filtering out of the church. Barry had never been a religious man, but he did believe in God. Wally thought that was dumb. With everything they saw, and knowing the Greek gods were real, how could you still believe in religion?

“Wally? Are you ready?”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

Wally turned to his aunt who smiled softly, “it’s time for the luncheon, no Allen-West funeral would be complete without food.”

“Oh right.” He wasn’t hungry. Even though he ran around the world three times today and hadn’t ate since yesterday. He guided Iris towards the little side door where the dining hall of the church was, then stood by the door and nodded at people as they walked in.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I made you food.”

After then tenth ‘I’m sorry’ Wally became deaf. He just nodded to get through the line. He felt like he was going to explode. Iris looked at him sympathetically. She knew what was on his mind, they had been planning it ever since he became and adult. The public didn’t know the truth of what happened a week ago. They thought Kid Flash died, not the Flash. Wally wasn’t ready to take on the mantel but… he had to. Iris reached out between the crowd and grabbed his arm. He looked down at her in surprise as she squeezed his wrist and mouthed exactly what he needed. ‘Go. Run away, just come back to me when you’re done.’ His body sagged in relief when she let go and all it took was him to lower his head and walk away. No one stopped him as he went between the buildings and no one flinched when a black blue suddenly went by them. Within a second he was hopping in his aunt’s backyard, trying to stomp out the fire from his shoes.

“Shit!” He threw the shoes off quickly and placed them on the concrete where they smoldered. He walked in through the he back door into the kitchen and froze when he saw Alfred Pennyworth standing there. Alfred’s eyes grew wide as they stared at each other. “Uh… how did you get in here?”

“I have my ways. Why are you home so early?”

“Iris sent me home. What are you doing?”

Alfred looked down at the pots and pans and narrowed his eyes at him, “making you comfort food. Iris asked me for help because you haven’t been home in a few days. When was the last time you ate?”

Wally sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh…”

“That’s what I thought! Go get changed!”

“Okay! Geez!” Wally went to go upstairs but stopped when he saw Bruce Wayne standing in the hallway, looking at the pictures on the wall. “You’re here too huh, Bats?”

“Wally! You’re back early.” Bruce looked at him sheepishly and rubbed his shoulder, looking comical for a second as he struggled to find what he wanted to say. “I wanted to…”

“If you apologize or say something stupid, I’m leaving! Without eating! I’m so sick of people treating me like I’m broken! He’s gone! Just like Jason! There’s nothing we can do! HES GONE AND I… I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” Wally screamed as tears fell down his face. “God dammit! Dammit!” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the flow of tears, but it made it worse. “Fuck the universe Bruce! Fuck you and fuck everyone!” Wally fell to his knees as his legs gave out, “I’m not ready!”

Bruce frowned and got down on his knees as well, surprising himself as he wrapped his arms around Wally and let him sob into his shoulder. Wally grabbed onto him like a lifeline. “I know.”

“This is wrong!”

“I know Wally. You have every right to be mad. You have every right to cry. What do you need right now? I could leave if you want to be alone.”

Wally cling tighter, “n-no… just let me cry and maybe beat you up later okay? I’m still mad but if you leave right now, you’re gonna see a really ugly crying face and I’m not ready for that.”

Bruce chuckled despite himself, “okay. You can cry now, and later come to the bat cave and you can take some of your anger out on me in the sparring ring okay?”

“Okay.”

Wally buried his face in Bruce’s jacket, the wetness already sleeping through to his skin. “What is Alfred making?”

“I don’t know, would you like anything specific?”

Wally pulled away and wiped his nose, a small smile on his face. “Would it be bad to say chili dogs sound amazing right now?”

Bruce chuckled sadly and shook his head, “not at all.” He stood up and offered Wally his hand, who took it and clasped it gratefully as they headed into the kitchen.

$$

Beep……….. Beep………… Beep…………

Wally hated hospitals. The harsh lights gave him a headache and showed everyone’s ages in stark reality. Bruce’s gray hair was bright and glittering around his temples and the light showed he was now more salt than pepper at this point. It was time for another dye job. The oxygen mask hid some of his smile lines, but the wrinkles around the eyes and on the forehead looked deeper than they were in this light.

They had been married for ten glorious years. Bruce was pushing fifty, Wally was pushing forty. Nine years didn’t seem as big of a gap now as it did back then. He spun the ring on his finger as he stared at his husband lying on the bed. He had been out for five weeks. Wally visited every day. At first the whole family visited every day, but Mari and John were scared that Grandpa wasn’t waking up, Jason had a new baby, Tim and Barbara were having a baby, and Damian… well he was dealing with his grief. Some people had died, but no one who deserved to live in either of their opinions. Wally shifted on the hard chair, his hand reaching out and grasping Bruce’s cold one. There was a knock on the door before it creaked open. Wally glances up quickly before turning his attention back to Bruce with narrowed eyes.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here now. It’s been five fucking weeks.”

Clark cleared his throat nervously, “Wally I’m sorry, but- “

“No! You don’t get to be the good guy here!” Wally stood up so fast his chair was knocked over with a clatter. “He took a fucking bullet for you and what happened!? He gets attacked by Doomsday while you’re off doing who knows what!”

“I was saving civilians!”

Wally glared at him, “that’s not your job during those missions, and you know that. We’re the civilian team, you and Wonder Woman are the horrific monster beating team! Bruce knew what had to be done!”

“That’s not fair! I have a family Wally! I’m allowed to feel scared!”

Wally turned his glare to Clark. “When you’re wearing that symbol, you don’t have the right to be scared. And don’t you dare use the family argument! We have five kids and three grandkids! Plus, one on the way!” Wally set his chair upright again and sat down, grabbing Bruce’s hand. “Clark… you’re still my friend but I’m starting to see why Bruce always kept a close eye on you. You’re old now, you can’t do everything anymore. It’s time you stop acting like you can be in multiple places at once. If you had… maybe I wouldn’t be in this room right now, wondering if I’m going to have to pull the plug on my husband…”

Clark sighed, “I’m sorry Wally. You’re right I wasn’t thinking. We’re all getting so old now… it’s hard to realize that I can’t do some of the things I used to.”

“Clark. I don’t want to hear it. I’m so mad at you right now and I won’t be okay until Bruce wakes up.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Wally fell silent before sighing and rubbing his eyes, “this will be the last you see of me in person. I won’t be able to handle being around you knowing you inadvertently killed him. I’m sorry Clark, but we have a family together and they will need me more than the League does.”

“So, you’re quitting?”

Wally sighed and nodded, “my ear-piece hasn’t been in in weeks. Just take me off the roster. I’ll come back if he does.” He lifted Bruce’s hand and gave it a kiss as he turned his back on Clark.

“Alright then. I’ll tell the League.” Clark set something down and reached for the door again. “For the record I am so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“He’s almost fifty Clark. He’s only human.”

“Goodbye Wally.”

“Goodbye Clark.”

The door swung shut behind Clark and Wally felt tears drop from his eyes. They landed on the covers lightly, causing several wet circles to dot Bruce’s bed. Bruce didn’t move. Wally sighed and wiped his tears before standing up, it was time for him to go home. He walked to the head of the bed and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s forehead. “I love you Bruce. Hope you have an amazing night.” Wally squeezed Bruce’s hand one last time before heading back home to the manor where he could fight the urge to eat a giant plate of chili dogs.

[randomly-random-jen]

Wash Away the Pain

Clarke has too much blood on her hands, but Bellamy is there to help wash it away. 1272 words | [PG-13]

Clarke staggers through the trees towards the rush of water she hears in the distance. Her right hand presses against a growing pain in her side. Her left hangs limply, knife dangling from her fingertips. The noise of the river drowns out the echoing screams of death in her head.

She falls to her knees on the bank, retching until the bile erases the bitter taste of copper that stings the back of her throat.

So much blood.

It’s everywhere—staining her clothes, caking her hair, dripping from her eyelashes. She stares at her hands—sticky with red—until they blur behind a curtain of tears. She thrusts her hands into the freezing water, scrubbing her skin raw, but the red isn’t going away. Her chest seizes up as another sob wracks her.

It’s not my blood.

“Clarke?”

She’s not sure if she’s relieved or terrified that it’s Bellamy that followed her. She goes back to scrubbing the blood from her hands. Bellamy squats next to her, pulling her hands from the water to hold between his. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and wipes a line of blood trickling from her temple.

“What do I do?” she whispers. “I can’t get it off.”

He looks down at her hands. “They’re clean, Clarke.”

She doesn’t believe him, but she’s afraid to look again. He watches her a moment longer then stands up, pulling her up with him. “Come on.”

He unties his boots, kicking them to the side. He tosses his jacket to the side and peels out of his t-shirt. Clarke swallows, squeezing her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to think about how perfect he looks without a shirt on or how he does have a smattering of freckles across his shoulders. It’s both adorable and sexy. And completely inappropriate.

Bellamy leans over and dips his shirt in the water then starts wiping her face. He’s gentle, starting at the top and working his way down. Despite the cold, she feels the heat rolling off of his bare skin.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

With my life, she wants to tell him, but the words catch in her throat. Instead, she nods. Without saying another word, he carefully pulls off her shoes and socks. The rocks dig into her blistered feet, but she doesn’t complain.

He bites his lip—his eyes catching hers. He holds her gaze as he carefully removes her jacket. His fingers trail down her arms, sending a shiver up her spine.

He grips the hem of her shirt. “Still with me?”

She nods again, closing her eyes as he lifts the shirt off of her. She’s not sure she can look at him now. He casually undoes her pants, and she steps out of them, shivering. But he’s not done. She hears the zipper of his pants—the fabric pooling at his feet. He grips her hand tightly and guides her into the river.

The water is like a thousand tiny daggers hitting her all at once. She gasps and nearly sucks in a lungful of water. Bellamy wraps his arms around her waist—their chests pressed together—to keep her from sinking.

Bellamy carefully leans her head back and washes her hair, threading his fingers through the knots. Then he wipes her cheeks with his thumbs. His hands glide down her arms, pulling her hands between them. He rubs at her fingernails until the dark stains are gone.

When she looks up at him, his face is blurred behind tears. She blinks them away. He gives her that shy, sad smile he reserves just for her. She knows the emotions behind it. The way she keeps breaking his heart. The way he just accepts it. Because that’s who he is. She loves him for that.

She swallows down the lump. She might be in love with him.

Before she can think better of it, she reaches up and wipes a smudge of dirt from his temple. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her as she returns his favor—cleaning his face and hair. Even when she’s done, she can’t stop running her fingers through his curls. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer until their bodies are completely flush. His nose brushes hers, and she lets out a little sigh.

“Clarke,” he says, voice rough. He pushes her hair from her face, letting his fingers skim her chilled cheeks. Everywhere he touches heats up. He leans in closer until their lips are barely touching. But something stops him. He pulls back ever so slightly, and she thinks she might die from the anticipation. He clears his throat. “Clarke, we-”

“Please,” she whispers. “Can we just forget about everything else. Just this once. Can it be just you and me? No Ark, no Earth, no grounders, no war.”

“No Lexa?”

She shakes her head. “Lexa’s gone.”

“Clarke, I don’t want you to forget her.”

“I’m not. But-” She runs her fingers over his lips. They’re chapped but soft. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my chance.”

He chuckles softly. “With me?” He waits for her to look up. “Never, Clarke. I’ll be here when you’re ready. Whenever that is.” He slips his fingers into her hair and pulls her face closer, planting soft kisses on her forehead. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I love you, Clarke.”

Every molecule in her body hums alive at his words. She wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He doesn’t question her breakdown; he just holds her tighter. When she finally gets control, she pulls back just far enough to see his face. The sun is setting behind him, casting him in shadows, but his eyes are wide, tracking her movements. She places a hand on either side of his face. The blood is finally gone—her skin shining white in the waning sun.

Slowly she leans forward, letting their lips touch softly. He doesn’t react at first, but she presses, knowing he just needs a sure confirmation. And then he groans. His arms tighten in a bear hug as he deepens the kiss. It’s like he can’t get enough. And damn, Clarke doesn’t want this to end. Some small part of her mind starts to compare this with her first kiss with Lexa, but she shoves it away—surprised at how easily she boxes up the memories. It’s been over a year; she has to move on eventually. And Bellamy’s been waiting this whole time.

When she pulls away again, his eyes are slightly unfocused but with a hint of fear like he thinks maybe she changed her mind. “Bellamy.”

He tenses, obviously waiting for it all to fall apart. Her heart aches for him. She did this to him. She left him over and over. Chose someone else at every turn. And he’s still here. At her side every day without question. Her lip trembles. And not from the cold. “I love you,” she whispers. And to erase any questions he might have, she adds, “I’m in love with you, Bellamy, and I have been for a long time.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his body completely still. She meets his gaze as tears gather in the corners of his eyes. She tilts his face closer, kissing each tear away before returning to his lips.

“God, Clarke,” he moans into her mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out what I wanted.”

He kisses her softly. “You’re worth the wait.”

She smiles against his lips. “So are you.”

originally posted at my blog on 7.10.17

[obsessedauthorchan-blog]

Shakespearean - Chapter 22

Title: Frozen

Jason had ran the whole way back to his dorm. He couldn't really believe the encounter he'd just had, and he spent the journey back thinking over his decision and the wisdom of it. He knew it was right not to betray Tim and his family, but he did wonder if it wouldn't have been more intelligent to pretend to accept Ra's' offer in order to get more information about Ra's' intentions or something. As he reached the door of his apartment, he shrugged. His decision had been made, and there was no going back or undoing it.

Jason unlocked the door and entered his dorm. When he looked up from the doorknob, he stopped in his tracks, unable to walk any farther into the room due to the absolute mess on the floor. Jason's belongings had been strewn all over the floor, and both his bed and his desk where stripped bare. The door swung closed behind him as he surveyed his room in shock.

He practically choked on air when he saw his laptop smashed on the floor in the corner. His essay for Journalism was on that laptop. The outline, the rough draft, notes and research - thousands of words... just gone. He slid to the floor, his back against the door, unable to look away in his horror.

He sat there for probably an hour, grieving the loss of all those hours and hours of work and collaboration with Professor Kent. He'd have to start over from scratch, though he wasn't sure how it would all work. The deadline for the contest was coming up, and Jason didn't know if he would really have enough time to get it all done. If only there was a way to save it-

Tim. IT-genius Tim. The computer science major, Timothy Jackson Love-of-Jason's-Life-and-Most-Amazing-Person-Ever Drake.

Swallowing down every negative emotion and fear inside of him, Jason collected every ounce of hope inside him as he collected every piece of his laptop off the floor. He didn't know what Tim would need and what he wouldn't, but he wanted to be sure. He put the pieces in his bag, collected anything else that looked salvageable, and wrote a note for Roy that he didn't know who had destroyed the room (but had thankfully left Roy's stuff alone), but that he would talk to the police and the university and do what he could to clean it up later. He went to the door but hesitated to open it. He looked over his shoulder at the dorm room that had been his home for months now. He didn't know how Ra's had managed it so fast, but he did know something.

There was no way Ra's was getting away with it. And there was no way Jason was going to let that psychotic sociopath hurt Tim's family. Hell no.

With renewed determination, Jason opened his door, only to notice the piece of paper taped to the front of it - the piece of paper he missed on his way in because he was too preoccupied by his thoughts. He only managed to read the heading before he dropped his bag and ran to the bathroom to empty the meager contents of his stomach.

Eviction Notice.

*****

Once Jason cleaned himself up, he retrieved his bag and began the walk to Wayne Manor. Tim had a class that day, but it was almost over, so by the time Jason got there on foot, Tim should have made it back in his car. They might even get there at the same time.

During his walk, he made sure to think as little as possible. Jason wasn't the panicking type. He wasn't the kind of person to freak out or lose his footing when something went wrong or just didn't go the way he expected. Jason had always been the go-with-the-flow type of guy, so the way that the day's events were affecting him didn't sit well. It was a sign, one he was reading crystal clear. He'd obviously come to depend on his surroundings. His education, his job, his boyfriend, his life in general - he had begun to care far more than he was supposed to. The life he had lead up until his acceptance at GCU had taught him the importance of not getting attached, of not valuing anything you have that exceeds yourself, and of not depending on anyone or anything else. You have to be enough for yourself, because everything else comes and goes, and nothing can be counted on. Nothing but yourself.

So, knowing this, how could Jason have let himself get to this point?

He knew the answer. It was complacency. He had felt secure. Between working a decent job, getting good grades in all his classes, having a steady relationship, and not having to worry about where he was going to sleep that night or when he'd get to eat again, Jason had relaxed. He had gotten settled in to a life that probably was never really his to have, and reality had come to wake Goldie Locks from her sleep.

Still, Jason wasn't so sure he regretted any of it. He sure as hell didn't regret Tim. He loved Tim, he knew that, had known it for a little while, and he knew there was no way what Ra's said about him was right. Tim wouldn't up and leave him because of a difficult past. He was a better person than that, and Jason liked to think that Tim loved him back.

Confidence regained and hope alive, Jason arrived at Wayne Manor to find that Tim's car was already in the garage. He rang the doorbell and Alfred opened up to let him in. "Good afternoon, Master Todd. How are you doing today?"

Jason wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question, but he knew Alfred's ninja skills would make sure the butler knew if Jason was lying. "I've had better days," he confessed. "Is Tim home?"

Alfred nodded. "He's in his room. He only arrived a few minutes ago himself."

"Awesome, thanks, Alfred." He turned to head up to the second floor when he realized he should probably tell Bruce that Ra's had an... invested interest in Damian. "Alfred, is Mr. Bruce home?"

Shaking his head, Alfred said, "No, Master Todd. Master Bruce is out to lunch with Master Kent. They should return within the hour, though, and I can let you know when they arrive, if you'd like."

Jason nodded vehemently. "Please do. I need to speak with him as soon as he gets here."

Alfred gave Jason a thinly veiled look of concern, but he merely nodded his understanding. "If that will be all, I have some things to attend to."

"Of course. Thanks again, Alfred." Jason ran up the stairs, unaware of the phone call Alfred urgently went to make.

Jason took the stairs two at a time. Ra's' words were starting to get to him in spite of himself, and he half wondered if he would get to Tim's room and not find him. What if Ra's had kidnapped him or killed him or trashed his room or told him some horrible lie or blackmailed him into braking up with Jason or-

All of these thoughts rushed through his head at warp speed and by the time he got to Tim's room he didn't even bother to knock, so worried that something unimaginably terrible had happened. He threw the door open and it banged against the wall. Tim jumped at the noise and turned to face him, half out of his chair. "Jason?" he asked, startled and surprised to see his normally calm boyfriend looking scared and pale. "Jason, what's-"

He couldn't finish his sentence before Jason had sprinted across the room and pulled him into his arms. The taller man buried his head in Tim's shoulder and breathed deeply. He had read in a lot of books about people falling in love with the way someone smelled and how their smell permeated everything they wore and whatnot. Jason had never bought it, had always said, "Bullshit," in his head as he read it, but in that moment he swore that he noticed Tim's smell. He smelled like home. He smelled safe.

"Jay," Tim whispered, returning the hug and holding his boyfriend close. "What happened?"

Jason shook his head, unsure of where to start and what to say. In that moment he couldn't even quite remember what had actually happened, overwhelmed with the feeling of calm he got from Tim's room and Tim's arms and Tim's smell.

In that moment, all Jason could think to say was, "I love you."

Tim had gasped loudly, and his whole body froze. For a moment, Jason wondered if that was the wrong thing to say, if it was too soon, or if Tim just really wasn't as in to him as Jason had thought and hoped. But then Tim hugged him tighter and Jason relaxed again into the embrace. Tim pulled away slightly, trying to see Jason's face, but he was reluctant to loosen his grip or remove his face from where it was resting in the crook of Tim's neck.

He managed to pull himself away and was glad he did when he saw the joyful smile on Tim's face. He mentally berated himself for not being able to return it when the smile dimmed and was replaced by concern. "Jay, what's wrong?" Jason hesitated to answer and Tim sighed. "Jay, I love you too, but I know something's up and if you don't tell me then I'm just going to have to stand here wondering who died."

Jason managed to crack a small smile at that, mostly because Tim said he loved him too. He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. "I don't know where to start, Timmers."

Tim rose an eyebrow, not unkindly. "People always say start at the beginning, but that’s bull. Give a basic summary, then give the details people ask for."

Jason hesitated, trying to figure out how to summarize his crazy life. “Okay. I- Tim, you might not even want that much information. I don’t know if-“

“Jason Todd, I just told you I love you. And I’m worried about you. Don’t you dare minimize my concern by sugar coating the truth.” Tim looked very stern, more stern than Jason had ever seen him. He hadn’t even looked that stern when he’d ranted for over an hour on why Star Trek was the superior member of the Star Trifecta. It was actually just a little bit scary.

“Fine, then.” Jason swallowed past a lump in his throat. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to face the possible reactions Tim might have. This wasn’t like telling Clark. If Clark had reacted badly, then it would hurt yeah, but he was just a teacher. Tim was different. Jason loved Tim. If Tim didn’t- What if Tim couldn’t even look at him? What if Tim treated him like some broken, fragile human? What if Tim thought he had too much baggage or was afraid of hurting him or-

No. Tim wasn’t like that. Tim loved him back. Tim wouldn’t leave him or hate him or treat him like a wounded bird. Tim wasn’t weakness and selfishness and fear. Tim had fire in his veins and courage in his heart. When Tim found out he lived on the streets, he was impressed. When he discovered that Jason had basically been deprived of culture in general since before he hit double digits, he simply introduced him to all the culture he’d missed. Every turn, when Tim understood more of what Jason’s life was like growing up, he just pushed forward and worked with Jason through all of it.

Jason could trust Tim. Tim was worthy of that trust.

He took a deep breath. Then everything came out in a single exhale. “When I was eleven I got kidnapped by human traffickers and was sold as a sex slave until I escaped when I was 16, then Ra’s Al Ghul, Damian’s asshole of a grandfather, tricked and manipulated me into letting him be my ‘mentor’, and then today he tried to blackmail me, and, I mean, of course I turned him down and when I got back to my dorm, I found my room trashed, my laptop,” he held up the bag with the pieces of his PC, the fragments clinking together audibly, “smashed to bits, and an eviction notice on my door, so I was wondering if there was any way you could get my documents off my computer because I have an important essay due in a couple weeks that is worth most of my grade, and also I need to tell Bruce about Ra’s and that Damian might be in danger, and actually all of you might be in danger, because this is fucking Ra’s we’re talking about and he doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants, which I’m pretty sure is Damian.”

Tim didn't say anything. He simply stood there, a crazy mix of emotions flashing across his face faster than Jason could register them. For probably a whole minute, Tim thought and processed and said nothing, and Jason spent the whole time panicking. He knew he shouldn't have said all that. He knew it was too much at once, and he knew he should have talked about it slower, had a longer conversation about it so that they could both take their time and he could properly answer any questions Tim had. He had meant to do just that, had planned to do that while he was going back to his dorm after his visit at Ra's'. He knew he had to tell Tim before Ra's could, that way it would come from him, and from the look of shock slowly appearing on Tim's face, Jason was absolutely sure he had managed to beat Ra's to the punch.

But at what cost?

"What did he want?"

Jason was startled at the question. "What?"

Tim cleared his throat. "You said he tried to blackmail you. What did he want?"

Jason still couldn't read Tim's expression, and it worried him greatly. "Information."

"About?"

He hesitated.

"Information about what, Jay?" Tim's voice was both soft and wary, and it scared Jason more than anything ever had.

"Your family. Damian, mostly, and Bruce. Anything I knew, anything I saw, anything any of you said. He wanted anything I had. He told me it was because he was concerned about Damian, but I knew that wasn't the whole truth."

Tim swallowed. "You said no."

"Yes." Jason quirked his head to the side, confused by Tim’s expression.

"I already told you, Timmy. I love you." Jason took a half step forward but hesitated to come closer. Tim looked impassive, solid as a stone. He had no expression, not even in those blue, expressive eyes that Jason loved so much. "I love your family. I would never do anything that could possibly hurt or endanger any of you. I don't know what Ra's wanted but it couldn't have been good. ‘No’ was the only real option for me."

Jason sighed when Tim didn't respond, fearing that Ra's had been right in his threat that he would lose Tim. He was going to say something, anything, but he didn't have the chance. Just then, Alfred appeared in the doorway. "Master Todd, Master Bruce has returned, as well as Master Kent. They are waiting in the library for you."

Jason nodded and told the butler he would be there in a minute. He was still hoping Tim would say something. He waited a few moments, but after all that silence he gave up. With another sigh he sat down the bag with the laptop pieces and turned to go, and he was passing through the doorway when Tim's voice stopped him. 

"What did he threaten you with? What did he think was important enough to you that you would betray us like that? That you would betray me?"

Jason looked over his shoulder at Tim to finally see an expression on his face: vulnerability. Jason gave him a sad smile. "He told me I'd lose you." Tim's eyebrows shot up. "Apparently he greatly overestimated my selfishness, because I'd much rather lose you than hurt you." 

At those words, Tim's face became stone, impassive and expressionless. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He barely breathed.

Jason walked away, leaving the love of his life as frozen as he'd been when he'd said, "I love you."

[iphoenixrising]

No Home for Dead Birds: What’s in a Name?

Shout-out to Arkaedia and @poison-basil for helping with the naming conventions. Seriously. The struggle was REAL. I don’t want to kill the surprise, but @yangmallow was the one that gave me the last name ;)

**

**Rachel**

She very easily puts the mug down and lifts a hand to the back of Tim’s neck, her skin cool and smooth, her smile the ghost of fond.

“Muninn?” He asks, muffled where his head is buried on his arms because damn the island is just the perfect height for him to plop down on a stool and maybe take a nap. But, he wants the answer. He wants the answer from them all.

Why that name?

(Maybe so he can finally pick another?)

And turns his head enough for a fresh breath of air and to sleepily regard her as she slides on the stool next to him with her own caffeine and the smallest of smiles he can’t remember ever seeing on her face before.

“Because I am accustomed to being Raven,” she sighs a little sadly without losing that smile, and Tim makes a mental note to do some digging, find out where she was during his time out. “And Odin kept ravens Huguinn and Muninn as his Memory. I like this idea perhaps. To be the keeper of memory.”

She sips at her tea, watching him with calm, cool, and collected.

“I like it for you,” he leans up enough to grip the mug in front of him with both hands. “I like the idea, so we’re def going to go with it.”

She hums a little, “I am glad. This...choice is freeing in a way, Tim. More so than I anticipated when he informed the Justice League of our parting.”

She has his full attention and uses it strategically, “it had been coming for some time, I think. Everyone, all of us, had been growing out of their control for quite some time. Gar and I, well, we have been operating on our own outside the team for years. You are aware of this.”

He nods gently back at her, one foot idly swinging off the rung of the stool, and yes, he knew. All of them had their own baddies, their own pet projects, their own ghosts and demons.

Just like him.

What kept them together? They all knew when it was time to come back.

(And that’s what he’s doing now, isn’t he?)

Raven… Muninn gives him a sharper edge to that smile like she knows exactly what he’s thinking— and couldn’t agree more.

“It’s good,” she sips at her mug, eyes soft while he’s still bleary and unfocused, “that you have decided to join back with us.”

With a yawn, he scrubs the grit out of his eyes, “I know...I wasn’t okay for a while, but I was still moving, you know? I was getting to the part where it was all fine.”

She hums lightly, reading into his bullshit without a hitch, “like all Robins, Tim, you could have continued alone. However, unlike the others, I believe you have a potential for more,” and her graceful hand gestures around the comfortable commons room, her dark gaze coming back to rest on him pointedly.

And if he laughs a little at her blatant humanity showing through, shoving a hand through his hair with eyes only slightly wet, well, that’s just going to be a little secret between them.

**Conner**

“Belenus?”

The clone smiles at him, hands dangling between the knees of his torn jeans. It’s just them in this new reality, and those blue, blue eyes have picked up a new trick, trying to look past the surface to find something…

(The truth)

Once upon a time, his bullshit tech could throw the clone off when needed. Anymore, it doesn’t look like that’s going to be the case.

At the top of their HQ, Conner isn’t floating above the lip of the roof, stays firmly rooted beside Tim, so close their thighs could almost be touching.

“It’s—”

“Yeah. Sun God reference, but—” he shrugs, but the leftovers still Superboy are there in the tightness of his forearms (“Robin, why does Superman seem to...hate me? Have I done something against regulations?” “That’s...that’s not it, Superboy, really.” But at the time, he’d already seen how disappointing and degrading it was to the clone, to know he wasn’t wanted by his biological donor. Some things? He gets.)

“You know Clark is an asshole, Con. Don’t feel like you need to do anything.” Like give Superman the fucking satisfaction.

“When we left the Tower for good, after we found out with the Justice League did, what they’ve been doing for a while, I spent some time out in the world, like I never have before. I…” and Conner sighs, his expression changes, smooths out like the days when he’d first come alive. The blank, expressionless face was a default when he didn't’ understand something or when he felt he needed to hide.

And before his best friend says a word, tries to spit out some acceptable explanation he might have already crafted for the rest of the team rather than the truth, Tim’s hand on his wrist stops it.

(Because he’s known Conner from Day 1, and there’s no need for him to get defensive about his choice. There’s no need for him to explain one of the turning points in his life was the time he’d been badly injured and Superman had snagged his clone up in the blink of an eye and flown them both directly to the sun in hopes it would have the same healing effect. It was the first time Clark showed concern and care, it was the first time Conner had felt like he wasn’t just some abomination. The name Kon-El, the addition in the Book of the House of El came not long after it, but still. By the time they’d met him in Ma’s house on his way out, it was so far too little, too late that all he could do was this, this name.)

And Tim gets it. Really, he does. The second Bruce handed him the tunic with the R, it was the same intense rush. The first time Batman called him Robin. “Believe it or not, I understand, man. I’m completely on board. Belenus it is.”

And those eyes come back to him, absolutely familiar in every way that he has to consciously catch himself from putting a hand to the back of Con’s neck to give a familiar squeeze, from a familiar pull for the clone to let himself list into Tim’s body..

“Heh. Thanks, T. You don’t know how much that means.”

And well, considering Con is holding on to the flash drive with all the files on Project 13 from CADMUS, of which he brought out after Clark snubbed him time and time again, thumb rubbing across the thing like a security blanket, Tim can absolutely guess.

He doesn’t put that hand on the back of Conner’s neck, but he does grip the wrist tighter to just hold on.

**Garfield**

Usually it’s him hanging upside down playing electrician. Nice to see Gar pulling it out like a boss.

“Saturn?”

“Titan of time, man,” the older superhero replies from half-inside the ceiling tiles. “Do you even know how long I’ve been at this game, T?”

He laughs a little and goes back to the motherboard in his lap, getting it ready for Gar to install. “I might have heard once or twice." He doesn’t need to say the only other of them in the game since he was eight was... (Dick) that guy; both of them are already aware of the metaphorical elephant in the room. Still, Tim appreciates the consideration since, well, Gar used to worship the ground Dick walked on. It’s nice to know the shape-shifter still welcomed him back regardless.

"Rach told me it was, um, you that lead the charge against the Justice League.”

There’s a shift, a random surge of energy, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end (because, you know, meta powers), and the low pop is just a random chimpanzee hanging upside down from the ceiling tiles by the tail. He grins because seeing a monkey smirk is never not going to be entertaining.

But Gar can work better and have this little convo, Timbo, because, man, why not just talk about it.

“So, look, T,” and Gar’s deeper baritone coming out of the monkey gets his attention, “I’m in my late twenties no matter how bangin’ I look. Rach is in her, I don’t know, hundreds or something, Cassie is nineteen, Bart is who knows how old, and Con is like six or something. Anyway, the point is— we don’t need someone to task us. Especially with whatevs is their deal. B-man’s little assignments? The League’s second-hitters? Nah, thanks for not lookin’ out. Then, for the JL to tell us who we can fight with? Who we can trust? The days when they could do that are long over. I was pretty sure we had that understanding when Dick had to lay it out that we?” the monkey pauses to wave his hands in emphasis, “are autonomous. Sure, we wanna take on that fight, why not? But that was supposed to be our call, dude. We got to make the team decisions, so the crap they pulled with you? Nah, bro, not happening anymore.”

Tim goes back to the motherboard in his hands, staring down at it, taking in the justifications.

“But the fact they did it to you?” Gar goes on with a sneer as he splices two wires together, using his feet to tape and hands to connect, “that’s total bullshit. Like, straw that broke the camel’s back, ‘kay?”

Tim blinks at the monkey owlishly because, well, he really didn’t think he was Gar’s fave Robin.

“Okay,” he replies softly, looking up at the green-eyed monkey.

“Don’t get it twisted, dude. All the mentors screw up. Ollie and Roy, Clark and Con, Diana and Donna, hell, Bats and Dick. We’re human,” and Gar wags a brow as his hairy arms give a helpless motion, “or some form of it. People fuck up. But ousting you without even talking to us first? Just letting us think it was your call all along? Nope, not schway. Not schway At. All.”

With his throat oddly clogged, he zaps the motherboard one last time with his own brand of tech magic and stands to hand it up.

“I...I could understand why Dick wanted Dami to step up with the Titans,” and even saying that makes his chest go cold. “Robin has always had a place on the team. I mean...it fucking sucked, but I still got it, Gar. The way of things, you know? Robin is part of the team.”

A green brow arches, “oh? You mean all those years of Discowing leading the call was any different than you as Red Robin?”

And that moment in front of the Justice League when he’d made the same damn argument passes by, making him avert his gaze as the monkey slides the motherboard home. The connects are super easy, man. Not even any trouble.

In a swift, smooth move, the monkey jumps and twists, turning into the human as he lands it, and faces the former Robin with brows drawn and a frown marring his features.

“T-man. Dude. You know how close I am with Dick. None of that is a newsflash. He’s always going to be one of my closest bros. Years of being on a team and just being in this life together takes bonding to a whole new level. But, I’m not blind to the fact the guy can be super impulsive and seriously dramatic. All you Bats are, inherit it from the Big Guy,” Gar makes both pointer fingers cowl ears behind his head in reference. “But that time? He was wrong, Tim. I don’t know the down an’ dirty, and you don’t need to lay it out for me, but I know he seriously messed up with you all the way around.”

But it hits Tim in a belated wave, makes him stare at Gar and blink. Of all the people he thought would side with Dick (because he was strong enough to win the cowl, so of course it was his opinion on who should wear the tunic that really fucking mattered, right? Not the goddamned kid that was already in it), he was sure Gar would be right on that side of the equation.

(And he is very, very carefully not going to think about the straight-out end of their relationship—no word and no warning. Because that? Had no place in the here and now.)

The shape shifter is easy when he wraps an arm around Tim’s shoulders, subtly steering them to the main doors. He ignored the furious wiping of the face and only vaguely acknowledges the husky, watery, “thanks, man. Seriously,” without being offended.

Instead, Gar just gives a little, “de nada. We’re going to do what we do best, and that, my friend, is kick ass and take names.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees with a small grin, “we do have a knack for kicking ass, right?”

“Totes,” and Gar leads him back to the Communal Floor where at least someone would be lounging around after a rigorous morning testing the lower floors. Something tells Gar a board game night will most def be on the roster.

**Cassie**

She’s cozied up in the window seat, watching the rain. The sweatshirt is an old one of Con's, big enough that her hands barely peep through the end of the sleeves, but the healing scabs on her bruised and battered knuckles make him duck his head with a smile. It's an easy thing to put the kettle on by muscle memory and hunt around in cabinets until he finds the right one.

(It's a simple, fat glass jar she'd found in one of the markets in the French Quarter. Terribly perfect for the purpose.)

It smells like spices when he opens it, the teas all neatly arranged.

The jasmine is light at it steeps, and for once he foregoes coffee to have a mug himself.

He's still in the new CEO skin, and the proposal today went far better than he could have imagined. His new line of products were going to start in R&D, then out for testing. The possibilities of growth in the next five years alone could put them higher in the Fortune 500 ratings.

Too bad for Bruce. He might have made a half-way decent CEO for Wayne Enterprises.

Crazy thing that.

But Cassie starts gently from her thoughts when he holds the mug down and fits himself across from her in the window seat, room for them both to look out at the rain and the throngs of people dancing in it.

"Ceres. I like it."

The comment is mild and unassuming, but she lays her forehead against the glass and rolls her eyes at what's becoming his usual, careful intrusions. It’s still just so…strange, seeing him like this, so subdued and grown-up from the Robin she knew, from the Tim she briefly dated when their lives were crumbling under their feet…and there was really nowhere else to go but down.

"I do too," she admits candidly, holding the mug in both palms, "I needed...something different. Wonder Girl was like a noose around my neck sometimes, you know? I'm not like Diana or even Donna."

With a quirk of his mouth, he sips at his own mug because they’ve had this conversation before. Third Robin. You know, the one not chosen, so yeah, Cassie, he gets it.

“Their powers were innate things, Tim. A part of them. When I asked Zeus for his blessing and he gave me these abilities, I thought I would feel different, be different, and… I’m not. I can’t keep doing the same thing over and over without thinking about something better. It’s not enough for me to keep fighting the same engineered plots, to put the bad guys in jail, and wake-up to do the same thing over and over and over again. There...there has to be a better way. There has to be something more than just…this.”

He smiles, reaches out and wraps one hand around his dainty ankle, his thumb moving absently over the bone while he listens.

She sighs, staring out into the mid-day, sinking deeper in the seat, “I always thought I’d be Wonder Girl until I needed to take a break from the life. But, I don’t want to stop. There’s so much more to do. Just not…in their way.”

Ceres is such a fitting name he thinks absently while he sips and rubs.

“You weren’t using all your potential,” he leads gently, laying his head back. “You had to adhere to Amazonian standards. It’s not who you are.”

“Exactly! I mean, I was wearing the uniform for long enough, Tim. I’d taken my ass-chewings, fought the good fight, I put in my time, and where did it get me? No where. And you’re right. I’m not Amazonian, so they were never really going to trust me anyway.”

His fingers sink into her ankle, grounding her from old regrets.

But Cassie sighs and sips on her tea, “it’s hilarious how we’re all like that a little, isn’t it?”

He hums and uses a thumb to rub into the arch of her foot like how he used to when it was weekends and sometimes other bad guy gatherings, making her sigh when the muscles and tendons are worked out under firm circles.

“I was the Robin that wasn’t chosen,” he starts out slowly, setting his tea aside to work with both hands. “Con was the clone in a family of last survivors of Krypton, Bart is the speedster out of line with the rest of the current Flash family, Rach is literally the only good guy in a family full of bad guys, Gar can’t go anwhere because his meta powers were the result of an accident, and you,” he glances up at her, rubbing a tender spot, “are not an Amazon. You don’t want to fight because of war. You want to fight for people.”

She huffs against the window in relief and her other foot wiggles into his lap for similar attention, “that sums it up, I think. But, it’s one of the things that keeps us together.”

“Agreed,” both thumbs work out her instep, strained from a day of wearing heels, “as much as working alone is kind of my thing at times, even considering current circumstances, I...missed you guys. It’s great to come back in a way.”

Cassie turns from the window finally and a grin slides across her face, lighting up her eyes with mirth. “Ah! Did we finally get you, Mister Detective?”

“I said I was going to stay weeks ago!”

“When you stop planning contingencies, then I’ll believe that,” and sticks her tongue out at him.

When he laughs back at her, it’s something genuine. “I’m only planning contingencies to get the team out of the building if it gets compromised, thank-you very much.”

And a few intentional strokes against the bottom of her foot has Cassie howling with laughter and beginning to helplessly flail, but Tim is completely unrepentant.

“Tim, you suck!”

The black eye he’s going to be sporting for the next few days is unequivocally worth it.

**Bart Allen**

“Vakaris. That? Sounds totally bad ass.”

Bart Allen shifts, braces his feet to pull himself out from under the husk of their old Super-Cycle and grin up at the suited CEO with motor oil still on his face.

“God of the Wind, dude. How mode is that shit?”

And even if it’s strange to be standing here, looking down a little at his former lover and still bestie, the old affections are still there, right under his skin in the muscles and sinew.

“I’d say you’ve got it about right,” Tim replies, letting his suit jacket fall down his arms. He’s already unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves to take a look at the remains of their old bike. The alien AI long gone, they’re left with the usual human tech to work with.

He takes the side across from B and starts pulling out bolts and burnt-out parts, letting the movement be soothing and automatic, something he doesn’t even really have to think about.

“I know what you want to ask, T,” Bart starts softly from around the bike, “you can. Ask, I mean.”

But the question is if he really wants those answers.

“You’ve made sure the future is on a better course, what you set out to do when you came here in the beginning,” and the words get husky, Tim clearing his throat so he can be as neutral as possible. “Are you planning to... go back?”

Where he can’t see around the bike, Bart slowly lowers the wrench, braces it on his prosthetic knee. There was so much there, everything about Max and Jay and Barry and Wally. The twins and the potential disaster if he did go back to the future to stay.

(And one day, when he could talk about it without breaking down, without wanting to gnaw himself into pieces. Eventually...he’d give them the deets. All the whys behind his reasons for staying in the past. Not the Flashpoint, but all the fucking backlash Barry forgot to mention.)

“I’m not going anywhere, dude. Not back to the future anyway. It’s...better if I stay here.”

And, well, it’s Tim. He can venture a guess on the possibilities behind that statements. Really, meeting their former future selves was an eye-opening experience on what kind of bad shit could go down in the next ten years. Maybe choosing a different path was the only way to divert it, but who really knew how much of that changed? And how much had Bart seen on his journey back to the past again?

(Never using a gun again. Never.)

“Call me an asshole here, but I’m glad.” Is what comes out of his mouth instead, something stupidly soft in his old come here and let me hold you kind of way.

The pause across the bike from him, the lack of noise or movement makes his heart beat just a little faster, just a hitch—

And Bart is leaning around the tire on his hands and knees, coming far enough around to put their faces a foot apart, his eyes are dark amber, warm and inviting.

Uh-oh. (That looks makes him a little breathless, makes his heart skip just once)

“Ditto, former Boy Wonder,” and for a moment Tim just blinks and stares because if he didn’t know better (he does), by the way those eyes flicker down to his mouth, he would think Bart might—

But a slow, knowing grin just slides over the mouth he can’t help but stare at before Bart pulls back slowly and disappears back around the other side.

“Hand me the 3/18th while you’re there.”

“...yeah, here.”

“Ah! Don’t throw it! What’s wrong with you?”

“You have super speed. Are you really telling me you couldn’t have caught that?”

“…you’re an asshole, T.”

“I also answer to wise ass, in case you were wondering.”

“Filing it away as we speak, Fearless Leader.”

The light-hearted bickering eases down the pressure in his belly from that almost-could-have-been, and Tim gives the status update on the office he’s established in the Business District and temp back office hideout for just in case. Luckily, they’re in a city with enough random bolt holes for safe houses that he’s pretty much got the city and perspective surrounding area mapped out. And if they head up to the Communal Floor later, covered in grease smears and standing closer while the elevator moves, it’s just another indication how close to normal things are becoming.

How close to ready they are to finally move again.

**

The Team

“So this is an all-or-nothing kind of session?”

Tim leans back against the console in their newly completed Control Room, crosses his ankles, and regards his waiting team. “I’m saying it would probably be smart to test the system at seventy percent. Make sure it can take what we dish out.”

Bart perks up because statements like that mean playtime and everyone usually gets right on board that train. He and Cassie exchange a grin while she cracks her knuckles with enthusiasm.

"I've put it through the standard paces already," and nope, he can't help the smile cutting across his face, "but a real world battering will help in making adjustments."

Con’s arms are crossed over his chest, blue eyes bright with anticipation, “We’re down. Let’s try to break some stuff.”

“It’s sooo about time,” Gar fills in with a righteous fist pump.

“Well, why not split into two teams. Belenus and Saturn,” and each perk at the (new) names rolling off his tongue like it had been a part of them since the beginning, “team one. Vakaris and Muninn, team two. Ceres plays air support.”

Then he gets a few raised eyebrows, “join us and it can be three and three,” Con points out.

“I need to monitor the system. Besides, I can see what kind of kick-ass new moves everyone is bringing to the table.”

And it’s a good enough argument because the rest of them can’t find a flaw in his logic. “But,” he placates with a hand in the air, “I’m going out every night this week to patrol the city. All of you get to go so we can do some research on the hidey-holes and bust some criminal heads.”

Bart’s mouth doesn’t drop open, but it’s an almost thing. “You are going to let us patrol with you?” Because they’d never gotten that from Robin—any of them. The big fights, the team gatherings, never a step into the realm of the Bat. For Tim, especially; patrolling the streets is his own cathartic need to do the down-and-dirty work (where he’d been for the last year since the original Batman had come back).

Tim nods, his expression amused, “if we’re serious about doing it...differently this time, then it’s a good idea to get different techniques laid out. You know, like stealth. Not every fight is going to be super-powered bad guys, so sometimes we’re going to need to be on the down-low rather than destroying buildings. Sometimes it’s going to be in places where you can’t expose yourself, and nothing is going to teach you stealth like staying in the shadows of one of the busiest cities in the US.”

Now Con is wondering if he should go with a mask this time instead of bare face. Just another thing to figure out before their night on the town.

“All the more reason to set the machine to record the session and join us,” Rachel points out while subtly adjusting her winged cape, a little something old and something new. “So we may begin working with you, and you may observe our...kick-ass new moves up close.”

The grins and guffaws from all around make him laugh out loud and give in, “all right, all right, I’m in.” A few keystrokes and the system is set.

Even if they’re all mostly in workout clothes, pieces of suits that might someday be, it still feels like a triangle of power when he’s standing with them, staring down a hell of a lot of guns and holograms of baddies, bo right behind his left ankle, ready for the right moment to move. It’s like he never really left.

“All right, dude.” Bart is working out his hammies, holding one leg behind him, “before we get this shit started, give up the name.”

Gar’s eyes light up, “so true, V. Fearless Leader has the roster. So what’s it gonna be?”

He grins a little, pulls the bo up to stretch his shoulders out just a bit for this little sitch. The anticipation is right on his bare heels, the power breathing down his neck from the metas at his back.

“For the time being,” he watches the laser cannons minutely adjust, the room powering on, “I’m going by Erebus,” the God of Darkness. “Maybe I’ll try something else for the other side.”

“That? Is pretty kick ass.” Con muses, eyeing the line of guns and probable owfuck around them.

“Glad you’re with it,” is his reply as the bo slides down his shoulders, goes right back behind his ankle, and he straight-arms it, eyes narrowing when the machinery begins to rotate.

That familiar stance echoes, reverberates, and the metas behind him take point, facing out for whatever might come their way.

It’s the new one that replaces the old name still on the back of his tongue; it’s a new call out to gather and defend, the new name that makes them tense with time to fight. When the red of the laser sites blips over the lot of them, he sinks just a little to balance on the balls of his feet, “Varangians. Strike!”

They’re off and moving before the first shot erupts.

And it's better than the first time because back then they hadn't worked with each other, known one another, trusted. So many integral things weren't there yet. So, this?

Is everything rolled up and hand-fucking-delivered.

Because they do break the system.

And it's the best power-down he's ever been in.

**

The Child

“Ah, there, there, precious one,” the deep voice coos.

The child in the bassinette calms, her eyes a stunning blue-violet just like her other father, picks out the silhouette in the shadows. Her whimpers ease into happy, gurgling sounds.

“My sweet is ready to play,” and he reaches down to lift her with unerring care, to pull her against the green robes she will one day inherit.

His beautiful, perfect heir.

Her noises follow them down the fire-lit corridors, past training rooms, through a busily working command center coordinating efforts around the globe.

“And one day,” he continues to her as they enter the throne room where her caretakers wait and his seconds have updates on their progression, “all of this will be at your disposal. And no one will be able to stop you, yes, my little Robin? One day, you shall rule the world.”

[kinetic-elaboration]

November 20: You First

Bellarke, Ark AU, ~600 words

For anon, for the prompt, “Congratulations! One of your dreams has finally come true. Let me give you a big hug and wow, you’re warm. ” from this list of “right to the good part” scenarios.

And so ends the series. Here is the rest.

*

Bellamy sends her a text that is just her name, all caps—CLARKE—and does not answer any of her requests for clarification for a full ten minutes. Then he is knocking at her door. She meets him on the front porch, where he still won't talk, not until he's pulled a stack of papers from a tall, official-looking envelope and held them right up to her face.

She has never seen him this buoyant, this absolutely giddy. It's not like him at all, but when she manages to take the papers from him and skim over the first page, she understands.

"Bellamy," she breathes, and looks up at him, wide eyed and open-mouthed, too shocked even to be able to smile. "Bellamy, that's—"

"NYU," he finishes. "A scholarship, to NYU, Clarke—I can go. I can actually go."

She throws the papers to the floor and flings herself at him, her arms around his neck and her face buried in the curve of his shoulder, and hugs him so tightly she doubts he can even breathe. His arms wrap around her too, holding her just as fiercely.

He got the acceptance letter two weeks ago, and in that time she's heard him psyche himself out of happiness dozens of times. Saying stuff like I should be proud of myself just for getting in. And I'll learn just as much somewhere less expensive, it's fine. Trying to convince himself he really meant it, that his great achievement wasn't clouded over by disappointment, that his consolation prize, knowing he was good enough to be let in, at least, was all he needed.

But this. Bellamy all but bouncing his way up her front steps and grinning wide to show his teeth and practically buzzing with pure and unadultered joy. Oh, this. She feels his happiness right through her as if her skin were leeching it right up from his, feels his happiness because it's her happiness too.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispers, and doesn't let go. "I'm so happy for you, Bellamy."

He squeezes her a little tighter.

Probably, one of them should step away, soon. But Clarke can't bring herself to let go. Bellamy is warm and his shirt is soft beneath her fingertips. His body is solid and real and close. His arms are so strong, and she can feel him nuzzling against her neck.

And if she's become that cliché, a girl with a crush on her best friend, at least she can admit it to herself, and pull every last perfect second from moments like this.

When Bellamy finally pulls away, a hesitation in his movements and expression to match the reluctance, the disappointment, that Clarke herself feels, he looks at her with a softened version of that radiant grin and says, with (she's sure) an unintended softness, "I could kiss you."

She laughs, but it comes out much too quiet. A feet-shuffling beat of awkwardness follows, as she looks down at the floorboards and their shoes. Then back up again, and—an absolute impulse, not letting herself think��meets his gaze, takes a breath, and grabs him by the front of his shirt. Kisses him. He's surprised for just a second, then kisses back, hands gripping her hips this time and walking her back until they run right up against her front door.

"Not if I kiss you first," she murmurs, as they part.

This time when Bellamy laughs, it's genuine, breathless but genuine, like a great sigh of relief as he bends to rest his forehead on her shoulder, and wraps his arms around her once again.

[blyedeeks]

Let me say these words (before the world burns)

Read also on: AO3 , FF

Rating: T

Pairing: Bellamy/Clarke (The 100)

Title: Based on @the-ships-to-rule-them-all poetry: link

Summary: “We’ll survive this,” he said

.Her forehead wrinkled. From all his fidgeting, she reckoned he wanted to say something else entirely. When he didn’t, her stomach turned to led. The world’s end was nigh,and Bellamy could act brave all he wanted for her benefit, but she didn’t want it.

None of it changed the fact they had 10 minutes on the clock.

Something goes wrong with their plan. 4x13 Speculation (that won’t happen but hey i brought all the angst to ya. )

Clarke sat on the bed, staring down at her shoes in the half-lit office inside Becca’s lab. Bellamy saw her through the glass walls from afar , understanding full well what prompted such reaction. He approached the room and opened its door, strolling towards her until she looked up. When she did, her eyes were wide and glossy and her chin quivered.

For an instant, he just stopped in front of her, letting his hands drop to his sides as he waited.

“We won’t be able to make it,” She croaked, grimacing at the admission.

He sighed, then lifted up his eyebrows. “We don’t know that.”

She tightened her lips. “There are many things wrong with our plan, things we don't know if will go wrong. But this one we do.”

He took one step closer, a sharp crease appearing between his eyebrows, “Raven says we have a 30% chance of openning the hatch remotely”

Clarke shook her head and looked away . She propped her elbows on her knees, then stood up. The young woman walked toward the glass walls, peeping down at the lab as she gulped. “And if we’re the other 70%? And the rocket is stuck down here because we couldn't get it open?” she muttered

“Then we die.”

Clarke whipped around and Bellamy stood there in the middle of the room, shoulders dropped and dark circles under his eyes, shrugging. He walked closer, narrowing the distance enough he had to lower his head to face her.

“There’s nothing more for us to do, we have no time. We did everything we could, you did everything you could.” He paused and his eyes trailed around her face. “We have to make our peace with that.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “ There are things not even Clarke Griffin can beat.”

At his half smile, her stomach fluttered in response. Whenever he did that, she forgot about all the ugly and wrong in that cruel, cruel world. Too bad they wouldn't have time to see how that looked like when they weren't running for their lives.

And he was right, they should finally… rest. Still on their young years, they had given every single drop of sweat they had, but it still wasn’t enough. And maybe it was okay, some things just weren’t meant to be. Like surviving on earth and having peace, like living. Her heart constricted as she looked at Bellamy and everything he wouldn’t get to see or feel anymore.

Yeah, she would be able to accept that. If only her life was at risk, but not anyone else’s.

“Clarke.”

She blinked twice. Even when her vision was watering, she tried to keep the smile her lips have formed without her realizing. But the lamps inside the office reflected on the unshed tears, forming kaleidoscopes of light in her sight.

Bellamy clenched his jawbone, took a deep breath and opened his mouth but ended up shaking his head. He inhaled through his nose, puffed his chest, then exhaled loudly. He gazed at her again and Clarke’s pulse picked up.

“We’ll survive this,” he said.

Her forehead wrinkled. From all his fidgeting, she reckoned he wanted to say something else entirely. When he didn’t, her stomach turned to led. The world’s end was nigh,and Bellamy could act brave all he wanted for her benefit, but she didn’t want it. None of it changed the fact they had 10 minutes on the clock.

Two arms around her broke her train of thought. She saw everything in orange-red when Bellamy hugged her, and she got choked up . She held him back, his cheek brushed against hers. Her head rested against his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. That was probably the last time they would ever do that; the last time Bellamy would be with her. She clinged to the material of the radiation suit on his back, grasping its fabric between her fingers. Bellamy dipped his head further to side until his nose was buried in her hair and his chin grazed behind her head. With faces closer, Clarke gripped him tighter, and he responded in kind. Bellamy heaved a sigh against her skin and she pressed her lips together, watching as one of her tears splashed on his clothes.

They were aware their embrace lasted longer than the appropriate time for two friends to be hugging; Still, they wouldn’t move.

Clarke pulled away slowly, catching her breath as their noses touched. Inches apart, and not knowing what to do with their hands anymore, they stood still. She craned her neck to look at him, his irises were dark and shadowed by his hair, a sad smile on his lips. Clarke furrowed her eyebrows and lifted her chin. Bellamy, puzzled at her motion, flinched his head back slightly.

But she leaned in, clutched the front of his suit and crashed her lips to his. All his muscles stiffened and he gasped against her mouth. Unfazed, she rose to her tiptoes and pulled him closer. His palms cupped her cheeks, deepening the kiss, drawing a whimper out of her.

Before she knew it, their feet were moved and he was throwing them against the wall. He spread his right arm so his hand would hit the structure first, preventing her from hitting the back of her head. As her back hit the glass and Bellamy towered over her, she flung her arms around his neck. He circled her waist with such force she was lifted from the ground. She tugged on his hair and bit his bottom lip, his breath was hoarse as he pushed them further against the wall. He tilted his head and opened his mouth, and everything on her body tingled.

When she had no more air left to spare, she drawn her mouth away and rested her forehead on his. Her eyes were closed and she breathed through parted lips, which were still close enough they grazed against his. He loosened his grip on her and her feet got back on the floor.

She still grasped his clothing and his hands were wrapped around her upper arms. They swayed slightly backwards, shaking as their chests rose and fell. She looked up at him, unable to focus on anything but the glint on his eyes.

“I thought you weren’t ready.” His voice cracked.

Her heart pounded even harder against her chest and she almost laughed. Because, of course Bellamy knew.

She never once told him about her feelings, or what she needed. But he didn’t need her to.

Her eyes welled up, “I’m not-” she whispered “-but we have no time.”

He scrunched his forehead. “Clarke- “

She dropped her head down and fidgeted with the fabric on his suit, “No, listen- “she sniffed and swallowed hard, “If you feel… the way you do about me- “

“No,” his tone raised, not in answer but predicting her too well. His throat closed and fear clawed at him.

She stared at him and pulled him nearer, tears prickled the corner of her eyes. “If you feel the way you do about me-” her eyes roamed over his face “- you’ll let me do what I need to do. I’m the only one that can”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “You can’t ask me that.”

She grimaced, tears trailing down her face, “I’ll do what I have to do to save the people I love, you know that, Bellamy. Don't ask me to stay here when I could have saved you.” She let go of him and took a step back, his eyes widened and his nose flared.

He scowled, his hands closed in fists. “You can’t seriously believe I’m gonna to let you die!” he yelled.

She chewed on her bottom lip until there was blood in her tongue, she took a couple more steps back, “Just…. remember what I asked you.” She turned around and marched towards the door.

Bellamy followed her closely, calling her name. But Clarke walked through the door and shut it behind her. He barely registered the moment she took out a key from her pocket and locked it, staring back at him for one second before going away completely. He banged and banged on the glass doors, screaming her name.

Some of their friends turned their heads at the commotion from where they stood down at the lab. They couldn’t to see Bellamy at the door or understand why Clarke was suddenly running, but Monty charged after her, anyway.

A few moments later, Bellamy realized he wouldn’t get out of the room in time. He grabbed one of the nearest chairs and threw it against the door, giving himself one second to wait for the cascade of broken glass falling and clashing against the ground before running after her.

When he reached the lab’s entrance, everything inside him turned cold. Monty was leaning against the door, breathing heavily and when he looked back at Bellamy, he didn’t need to explain anything.

Clarke had trapped them inside the lab.

“Why would she do that?” Monty asked, realizing Bellamy figured out what she did.

Bellamy passed a hand over his face, his mind had gone blank. He realized there were few times he had truly felt panic in his life. Because this? This was his world turning black and white, his limbs turning into ice and a scream stuck on his vocal chords. He wanted to punch the lab’s entrance until his knuckles bled and all he understood was pain.

His knees sagged and he leaned against the nearest wall, wishing he’d wake up and realize none of that had happened. But Monty was still there, waiting for him with raised eyebrows. And Raven’s braces metal creaking echoed as she approached them. His vision blurred and he commanded his body from sabotaging him but he was already gasping for air.

“What is going on?!” Raven’s voice resounded somewhere behind them. “Bellamy what are you doing-?”

“What do you mean?” Monty furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding what she was asking.

“He smashed Becca’s office door- “

Bellamy closed his eyes, their voices going distant and mute under the white noise on his eardrums.

Helpless.

It didn’t matter what he did, she was gone. They had minutes left and if he spent every one of them trying to break out of the lab and find her, she’d still be gone as praimfaya arrived. Unless the nightblood miraculously saved her, something he was sure she didn’t believe or the last 5 minutes of his life wouldn’t have happened.

He was back at the cliff where he kneeled and saw Charlotte’s figure disappearing after the jump, or at Camp Arkadia where he stood by the gates as Finn died, with nothing to do to change their story, with no one to fight to make it right.

Except this time, he didn’t have Clarke with him anymore to share the same burden. He’d never have Clarke with him ever again.

He snapped his eyes open, willing the bile to stop raising in his throat “Let’s get going.” He moved away from the wall and walked back into the lab.

Raven and Monty stared at his back for a beat before following him.

“What are you talking about?” Raven asked.

“Clarke’s out there.” Monty said.

“I know.” Bellamy clasped and relaxed his fists, feet moving faster towards their rocket, “She’s gonna open the hatch manually so we can take off.”

“What?” Raven exclaimed.

Monty came to a stop, but the other two continued walking.

“Bellamy, she’s going to die. Nightblood won’t survive Praimfaya’s blast.” Raven said.

They both stopped in the center of the lab, all the others around them as they finished packing for the next 5 years in space.

Bellamy grabbed his space suit, refusing to look at her or anyone else at that matter.

“Of course.” Murphy groaned, rolling his eyes. All that tumult had to mean Clarke was up and about being the sacrificial lamb.

“Who is she talking about?” Harper asked.

“Clarke,” Emori explained, connecting the dots as fast as everyone else, just not as emotionally attached to deny them.

Bellamy was zipping down his radiation suit, his back to everyone and his head on the mission. Raven loomed over him, eyes sharp and narrowed, pointing at the lab entrance direction.

“She’s going to open the hatch manually, and there’s no way she’s going back here in time,” she yelled.

“He knows,” Monty whispered and they turned to him. He looked around at his friends, stopping at Bellamy’s gaze. “He already knows that.”

Harper averted her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand, Murphy raised his eyebrows and crossed his arm in front of his chest. Emori glanced around them as Echo rolled her eyes and turned around to grab her space suit. Raven gritted her teeth and glared at Bellamy.

“How are you okay with this?”

“Because I love her,” he spat, jaw so tight that the pain cut through all the numbness.

Raven’s shoulders slumped and everyone grew quiet.

“There’s nothing we can do to stop her, believe me, I tried.” His voice cracked and he motioned towards the office he had previously torn apart, “And if we stay, we all die. That’s the last thing Clarke would want. And I’m not gonna let her die for nothing.”

They stared at him in silence, and before anyone could try to reply, their countdown reverberated. Becca's lab was filled with red flashing lights and sharp noise, reminding how they were supposed to be fighting for their lives once again. They retreated in silence despite the chaos, each one grabbing their space suits and getting ready to launch. Bellamy stood behind the group as they approached the rocket, staring back at the one space suit that wouldn’t be worn.

He froze in place and time stopped, Clarke's lone empty suit propagating melancholy in his bones. But then his friends were yelling at him to run and before he realized it, he was sat down and their feet were light from losing contact with the ground. He shut his eyes tight, a pain spreading through his chest.

Some promises were not worth keeping.

[bellsblake-archive]

bellarke, 8

sorry this took so long, anon!! school and homework absolutely kicked my ass this weekend and then i had a major case of writer’s block, so thanks for your patience darling

bellarke + 8. oh my god, i thought you were going to die. please don’t ever scare me like that again.

Clarke is perfectly relaxed until her radio crackles to life.

She hears Bellamy’s voice coming from it - garbled, but clear enough that she can distinctly make out the words, “Come in, Clarke.” Panic seizes her, because Bellamy wouldn’t be trying to contact her unless something was wrong.

She fumbles for the radio, fingers trembling so much that she has a hard time unhooking it from her belt. “Come in, Clarke,” Bellamy says again, and the urgency in his voice terrifies her.

“Bellamy, what’s wrong?” she says into the radio. He doesn’t answer right away, but she hears a harsh sound in the background, a dull roar. “What the hell is that noise?”

A crackle, and then: “Black rain.”

“It’s here?” she asks in disbelief, eyes scanning the horizon for threatening clouds. When she sees none, she asks him, “Is everyone safe? Do you need me to come back and help?”

“Hell no. Stay away from here until it passes. And yeah, almost everyone is safe.”

“Almost everyone?”

“One of our men fell and couldn’t get inside in time. Last I saw him, his entire body was covered in burns. And… Octavia’s out here. She ran away from Arkadia before the black rain hit, and no one knows where she is.”

The realization dawns on Clarke suddenly. “You’re out looking for her.”

It’s not even a question, but regardless, Bellamy’s silence answers it.

“Bellamy, how the hell could you be so reckless?”

“Have you met me?” he quips, and she can almost see the sideways smirk on his face.

“Well, are you okay? Are you safe?” Clarke is surprised at the way her voice catches - she’s more worried for Bellamy than she’d realized.

“That’s the thing, Clarke. That’s why I had to contact you.”

“Because you’re safe, or because you’re not?”

A moment of silence and then, quietly, “Because I’m not.” Clarke closes her eyes and inwardly curses him for being so magnificently stupid, so self-sacrificing, such a good brother to a sister who doesn’t give a damn about him anymore.

“What happened?” she asks him, trying to keep her voice calm.

“I’ve been out in the Rover searching for her, and the rain made it hard to see… I crashed the Rover, Clarke. I drove the damn thing down the side of a hill and crashed it into a bunch of trees. I can’t move my right leg without it hurting like hell, so I think it might be broken. And something in here, a piece of glass or metal or something… something stabbed me in the fucking stomach. And you know, obviously there’s the black rain. Even if I do have a suit on, I’m sure the corrosion will get to me eventually.”

Clarke takes a deep breath, trying to analyze everything he’s said rationally, like she would if he was just another medical patient she needed to help. But she can’t, because it’s Bellamy, and she’s already out of her mind with worry.

“There’s not much you can do about the leg,” she finally says. “Bellamy, how bad is the wound in your stomach? How much blood is there?”

He’s silent for a moment, and then he says, “A whole fucking lot.”

It takes all of Clarke’s willpower to suppress a groan of frustration, because she’s completely and utterly helpless.

“Why didn’t you call Arkadia? Why’d you call me when I-” her voice breaks, and her eyes are stinging with hot tears that won’t fall. “I can’t do anything, Bellamy. I can’t come find you in time, but Arkadia can.”

“They won’t know where I am, Clarke. All of their equipment is down because of the rain. It’s a miracle this piece of shit radio even worked well enough for me to talk to you.”

She starts to cry then, because the possibility of him dying out there, alone somewhere in the wreckage of the Rover, is ridiculously high. 

“Clarke, hey,” he says gently. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“I cannot believe you’re literally fucking dying and you’re still trying to comfort me,” she cries. “I can’t save you, not this time. I’m too far away.”

“I didn’t call you so you could save me, Clarke. I called you so I could tell you something.”

“No,” she says, and she finds herself shaking her head vehemently even though she knows he can’t see her. “No, you’re going to live. And then you’re going to tell me whatever it is to my face, so help me god.”

“I’m not sure I can do that, Princess. I’m sorry. Will you let me tell you now, just in case?”

Clarke can hear him slipping away - his voice growing shakier, weaker. He’s probably close to unconsciousness from the blood loss and the pain in his broken leg. 

You’re going to lose him, just like the rest of them.

“Tell me,” she says, because there’s nothing else to say.

He’s silent for a few seconds and she grips the radio tighter, terrified that he’s already fallen unconscious or worse. But then he says, “I love you, Clarke,” and something deep in her chest collapses. “I’ve loved you for a while, but the time was never right. And then when it was, I was too scared of fucking things up to tell you. Now I have to, because I’m not going to get another chance. If you were here right now I’d probably kiss you, but if you were here right now you’d probably be coming up with some brilliant way to save my life and I wouldn’t have to say all this in a rush, so.”

She laughs at that, but it sounds like she’s choking. Feels like it, too.

“I just… wanted… you to know…” he says, trailing off at the end. 

It’s the last thing he says.

“Bellamy?” Clarke shouts into the radio. “Bellamy, are you there? Bellamy?” She can still hear the steady pounding of the black rain through the radio, but the sound she wants to hear, the sound of Bellamy’s labored breathing, is no longer audible. After a few seconds the connection descends into static; Bellamy probably dropped the radio. Clarke gasps, tears spilling from her eyes in a flood. She falls to her knees in the dirt.

She didn’t say it back.

(She should have.)

Her chest feels painfully hollow. Bellamy held a larger piece of her heart than she ever realized.

Raven finds her twenty minutes later. Her tears still haven’t dried, and all she can say, over and over, is, “He’s gone, he’s gone.”

When it’s time for Clarke to return to camp a week later, she almost doesn’t want to. Not seeing Bellamy around camp will hurt, but leading her people without him by her side is unfathomable to her.

Raven leaves her at Arkadia’s gate with a hug and a gentle squeeze of the shoulder before heading back to Becca’s lab. Clarke trudges through the gates, and that hollow in her chest starts to ache again.

She’s not even sure what she’s going to do with herself - maybe head to Medical and see if she’s needed, or find Monty and ask if he needs help with anything - at this point, she just needs a distraction. Anything to keep her mind off of all the places in camp where Bellamy used to be, places where he’ll never be again.

And then she sees him.

At first she thinks she’s hallucinating, like the way she used to see Finn’s ghost, but then she realizes it’s actually Bellamy. He looks like he’s been through war - cuts on his face, bandages around his abdomen, one leg wrapped in a makeshift cast that forces him to lean heavily on a crutch as he hobbles toward her - but he’s alive.

Before she can even think, she runs to him and tackles him in a hug. He catches her around the waist and stumbles back a little, the top end of his crutch digging into her back as he regains his balance. “Watch it, Clarke, I’m crippled,” he laughs into her hair as she pulls him closer.

“How are you here?” she asks.“A miracle, honestly. Kane and a small search party went out looking for me and found me before I was totally done for this world.”

“Oh my god,” she breathes, burying her head in the crook of his neck and breathing him in, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I thought you were dead.” She pulls away and looks at him; his eyes are as deep and vast as the cosmos, and she feels like he���s staring into her soul. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again,” she whispers.

“Never again,” he says quietly, earnestly, and then she kisses him.

It’s messy at first. It’s rushed passion and all of the rough edges between them rising to the surface - her missing him more than she’s ever missed anything, his confession and her reaction to it still undefined between them, months of dancing around each other finally coming to fruition. He pulls back a little - Clarke imagines he’s probably surprised - and their noses bump against each other. In an unspoken moment, they realize they’re kissing in front of the entire camp.

Then Bellamy laughs, and so does she, and when he kisses her again he’s smiling against her lips, and this time it works.

“You asshole,” she says afterward, her hands still knotted in his hair. “Making me think you were dead.”

He laughs again - it’s the most she’s ever heard him laugh in one day, and she decides she likes it. “I love you,” he says. “Here I am, telling you straight to your face, so help me god.”

She kisses him again, and this time it’s deep and slow and sweet. “By the way,” she adds, giving him another quick peck on the lips, “I love you too, if you were wondering.”

“God, I was hoping so,” he says, poking her playfully in the ribs with the tip of his crutch, and she can’t wipe the smile off her face as they walk inside together.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Banished (Part 9)

*Not my Gif*

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been in lock up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when se gets banished...

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader, The 100 x Reader

Post Date: 7-15-19

Word Count: 3K

~Prompt List~

~Master List

Requests are Closed

Banished Master List

Based off episode 1x09 "Unity Day" of the 100

WARNING: Death, Blood, Fights

How the hell did you end up here, running through the forest in the light of the morning avoiding any indication of Grounders nearby. Your back pressed up against a tree as you took a moment to take in your surrounds, catching your breathing as you collapse to the ground.

"We banish her."

Your jaw snapped open as the room stayed silent. Clarke's eyes never left yours as Bellamy turned to face her.

"You want to banish her?" He asks as Clarke finally looks at him. Octavia was quick to grab your hand before you shook it out of her hand, stepping closer to Clarke.

"You can't. Clarke. You can't banish me."

"Y/N, you said it yourself, you kill someone and you get banished. We don't have any other choice." you scoff at her, quickly noticing no one arguing with her.

"Any other choice? You have about a million other choices. Pick one of them." you snapped at her as Bellamy held your arm, eyes softening as he looked down at you. "Bellamy. You can't seriously-"

"You killed him Y/N. You killed him and it wasn't the first time. You can't promise this won't be the last." He regretted his words the second your eyes widened, confused glances being given by everyone around you both as you rip your arm from Bellamy.

He tried to pull you back as you left the dropship. Heading straight to your tent as you grabbed all the things you needed. A bag, jacket, and a few knives. Not much but you were screwed out there anyways. You tent opened as Bellamy stepped through, ignoring the anger in your eyes as he put his hands on his hips. "I didn't mean to say-"

"Screw you Bellamy. You're right. I can't promise that it won't be the last so its probably best that I did leave. oh I'm sorry, I mean, it's probably best that you banish me. Maybe I'll find Murphy, tell him he was right. I am crazy." And with that, you pushed him aside, heading straight for the gate where Clarke, Octavia, Jasper, and Monty were waiting.

Jasper was quick to throw his arms around you, you returning the gesture before he pulls back. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Don't be sorry." he nodded his head before hugging you once again. Monty was next, even though you hadn't gotten as close with him as you hoped you would still miss the hell out of him. He gave you a quick hug before separating, nodding for you to go taalk to the the raven haired girl next to him who was trying to hold back tears.

You bit your lip as Octavia pulled you into her, hugging her tighter than you've ever hugged her. "I'll be fine. I promise." She nodded her head before whispering in your ear.

"I know. You're strong. Try to find Lincoln, he might be able to help you." you pulled apart as you smiled, nodding your head before facing Bellamy. You could tell he hated this, seeing you leaving, but he didn't have a choice. He kept telling himself you were a danger to the camp, but he didn't know what happened, no one did and no one will. You made no move to say goodbye to him, letting his eyes met yours as they linger for a second to long before you squeeze Octavia's hand, heading straight out of the camp. Straight out of all the friendships you've spent the last few days of your life making. Leaving you alone, again.

You pushed yourself up as the ground around you rustled, your stomach dropping as you scan your surroundings seeing a man running as you you turn to run the other way, only to smack into someone. You fell to the ground, grabbing your knife for protection as you met the grounders eyes. He tilted his eyes as he stared down at you. Neither of you made any movement until another grounder appeared in your sight. Within a second you were on your feet, a knife in each hand as the grounders look at each other then back to you.

"I won't hurt you, if you let me go now." You said, beginning to bargin for your life as they both lifted their spears, each taking a swing at you as you jumped out of the way, rolling past them both as you tightened the grip on your knives. "Wrong choice." the next few second went by fast, the grounder that was closer to you swung his spear towards your legs as you jumped out of the way, right towards the other who pulled out a knife. the knife hit the skin on your arm, slightly slicing through it as you hissed. Smirking at him, you let out a dry chuckle as they glanced between each other, not noticing you picking up your fallen blade and turning to the one who nicked you. You sliced his face as he stubbled back, one hand moving up to the slice from to the top of his chin to the bottom of his right eye. You kicked out his knee as he fell to the ground, groaning from the pain. You turned your attention towards the other as stuck his spear out, almost hitting you before you reached out a grabbed it midswing. He looked surprised before you spun around, kicking him in the stomach as he dropped his weapon, hitting his back into the tree. You had forgot about one on the ground as you landed on your ass, groaning as he got to his feet you soon following after.

"Ok, boys. I'm tired of this." Your hands started to shake as blood dripped down your arm and your breathing increased. You didn't know what happened inside of you as slashed towards the first grounder who knocked you down. He jumped back, flipping towards the spear on the ground as he landed on his knees. You took the opportunity to come up behind him, knife to his throat as you pulled it against his skin, his body falling to the ground as the remaining grounder pulled you back, you knife hitting against his stomach as blood seeped out of the wound. You fell to the ground as he got on top of you, your body freezing at the familiarity of the postion. You tried to push him off, kicking him any way you could as his blood coated your shirt, not making you feel any better about the situation. His spear was a foot away from you as you stretch your arm out, fingers gracing the wood before you grabbed it smacking it over his head, pushing him off you. He sat up, much like the other grounder as you came up behind him, this time without a knife. You gripped his head, one hand on either side as he shot his hand up towards your face, knocking you back as you held your nose, blood coating it before you resume your position, hands on his neck as you snapped it, his hands falling from when he tried to remove yours as his limp body hit the ground.

Your breathing slowed as you looked at the scene, two bodies on the ground in front of you bent down to pick your knifes, wiping the blood on your clothes as you realized how ruined they were. Closing your eyes, you fell against the tree again, pulling your knees up to your chest as you buried your head in them. You knew you couldn't just stay here, if any more grounders found you sitting next to them they wouldn't be happy. So instead you ran, grabbing their spears as you dashed into the forest.

The next few days were extruciating. You slept in any caves you found, careful not to let yourself be seen by many grounders. Unfortuntely, some had found you, each one thinking they could kill you yet here you are covered in their blood as well as some of yours, body and face littered with scars and cuts as you treked across the woods. You were tired, you needed more than anything to sleep and right now you had on idea how much longer you could go. The sounds of clopping cauhgt your attention as you followed it, hiding in between the trees as you saw some of the most amazing creatures you'd seen yet.

"Horses." you breathed out, voice stressed from lack of use. You didn't talk to all the grounders you killed. Only the first 2, not the other 6. You became someone you'd never wanted to be, a killer. You shook out all the thoughts in your head as you followed the horses and grounders, not being seen as they approached a bridge. Your eyes widened at the sight, there on the bridge were horses, grounders, Lincoln, who you were happy was safe, Octavia, Finn, and Clarke. You couldn't help the anger in you when you saw Clarke, you shouldn't have been angry at her, she banished you because it was right for the camp, you killed people and Clarke had every right to protect them. Your were interrupted from your thoughts as a fight broke out, the noises causing you to stumble back as you fell, rolling down a ravine as your head hit the ground, multiple times. When you finally stopped rolling you stayed still, not being able to move as blackness crept up your vision followed by a figure, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as you blacked out.

You weren't sure how long you were out, your head bouncing against the grounders back finally woke you up as your eyes fluttered open. Catching sight of bright object soaring the sky and hit the ground, a cloud explosion lighting up the sky.

The exodous ship.

Kane.

You felt your heart sink, knowing that you never got to say goodbye. Just like your parents. You should’ve tried to talk to him on the radio. You held back tears as you finally paid attention to where the grounder was taking you. The place contained a few cages, all open and empty but one. He threw you off his shoulder into the non-empty cage, closing the door as you pick your head up, looking through the bars at a woman you recognized from the bridge, the one who was talking to Clarke. She met your eyes before turning around leaving you in the cage as you sit up, coughing at the movement. A loud snicker sounded as your eyes snapped to the source.

"Oh you got to be kidding me..." you mumbled as you closed your eyes, resting onto the wall next to you as you try to ignore the person next to you. Murphy. He stood up, limping closer to you before falling to the ground across from you.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little miss crazy. The king and princess finally banish you too." You could hear his smirk, the one that caused your insides to boil as you move to look at him. The same boy who cause Charlotte to jump to heer death. You rolled your eyes as you frowned at the mention of Bellamy.

"Yup." you deadpanned as his jaw dropped. Holding back a snicker of your own you let he watch you eyes travelling across your body as his brows furrowed. "Don't look so surprised, you call me little miss crazy. I'm to crazy to be allowed in camp."

"You're covered in blood."

"Yeah. It ain't all mine." Your voice was harsh as you began coughing again, trying to make your breathing normal again.

"How many people have you killed?" he asked as you grew silent. a few moments passed before you figured out how to answer.

"In total, on the ground, or since I've been banished?" The cage was dark but the light passing through a small window told you he was frowning, not at all expecting that answer. He said nothing more as you shrugged, telling him you didn't know at this point. But you knew.

12 people.

Atom, James, 2 guards, and 8 grounders.

12 people.

You were silent, Murphy was silent and noises of the grounders outside the cage was teh only thing letting you knew you were dying yet. That is until the cage door swung open and a burly man came thorugh, eyes set on you as you laughed. Murphy just stared at you astounded at your reaction as the man threw you over his shoulder. He was bigger than any of the grounders you'd killed, but if you needed to you told yourself you'd find a way to save yourself, that is if you wanted to be saved.

Your body hit the ground as he dropped you, having brought you to another room away from Murphy. You hadn't stopped laughing as looked down at you a knife in his hand as you were left weaponless. You didn't know if you were going to get out of it this time.

His eyes pierced through his armor as they narrowed, causing your laughs to die down leaving a smirk on your face. “I could kill you, Sky girl.”

You found your solution. He could kill you. "But you won't."

“And what makes you think that.”

“Well, for starters, if you were going to kill me, you would’ve just done it, instead of saying you were. And second of all, you need me to learn about our camp. So no I don’t think you’ll kill me, Grounder.” You had gotten to your feet during your speech, knowing you were completely on point. One second you stood tall and proud at your revelation before a smack resounded in the air and you were on the ground, clutching your cheek as you started to laugh again.

"You laugh now, but soon you won't be able to." His voice chilled you as you pushed yourself up, stopping his hand as went for another slap, pushing your fist into his face.

"We'll see about that." You were cut off as another man came up behind you, hitting you in the head as you fell, groaning. You tried to push yourself up again, only to fall back in exuastion. Your head was bleeding as they picked you up, tossing you back into the cage as you rolled onto your side. Murphy was quick to help you, leaning you against the wall as you pushed him away.

"Don't touch me." you seethed as his hands flew off you. You wiped off some blood on your face as you eyed him, watching him check you over as if he actually cared.

"I was just trying to help."

You shook your head as you laid down, telling him that you were going to try and get some sleep as he agreed.

"Y/N! Y/N! You need to wake up." Murphy whispered, shaking you from your slumber. You mumbled a response, slapping him as you opened your eyes. It's been 3 days of you locked up with Murphy and at this point it's actually been better than it was when you were alone. They tortured you, sure, but you didn't have to fight for your life, they werent going to kill you. You didn't have to worry about acid fog or someone trying to kill you in your sleep. But now here you were Murphy waking you up in the middle of the night as you stared at the open cage door. You met Murphy's eyes as you both decided what you were going to do.

"Run." you said as you both surried out the both, checking for grounders around you before dashing out the forest. You were a few miles away when you finally stopped to catch your breath. You finally got a good look at Murphy, dark bags surrounding his eyes as blood coated his face, traveling up into his hair. You didn't look much better, at least he was covered in only his own blood. At this point you didn't know how much of the blood on you was actually yours.

"So what now?" You shook your head, huffing from your recent marathon as he thinks out loud. "We have to keep moving. I don't know how many grounders there are around us. We- we could go back to camp." You didn't say anything, still shaking your head as you both start moving again, heading in any way you could. "We could go back to camp." he said one more time, determined to get you to put your input in. "Y/N."

"No. I'm not going back there." He stopped as you kept moving, not caring if he was with you or not.

"Y/N. You'll die out here if you don’t."

You scoffed as you turned your head to him. "Made it this long haven't I?" You heard him mumble something as you slowed down. "Look, Murphy. Camp's about a day that way." You pointed to your left, knowing exactly where you were, you've been by here to many times to not know this area. "If you want to go back. Go. But I'm not going with you. and I would appreicate it if you didn't let them know I'm alive."

He licked his lips, placing his hands onto his hips showing he wasn't going to argue with you. "Just stay safe ok." You couldn't help but chuckle at him.

"Why do care if I'm safe." You sassed before you saw his face soften at you. You didn't know what to say. Murphy being... well like this was something you'd never thought you'd see. "I'll be fine Murphy. Try not die, too. And please don't tell them I was with you." He nodded before walking the way you pointed, leaving you standing there trying to figure out where to go. You didn't have any weapons. No protection, no new clothes, nothing. Your feet hurt from running but you needed to move. The light of morning caused your head to pound from not being used to brightness. You watched your back for grounders, making sure no one was sneaking up on you. You were about to rest before movement caught your eye, ducking behind a tree waiting for him to pass before he decided to speak.

"Y/N?" He whispered as you froze, slowly glancing around the tree as your jaw dropped.

"Lincoln?"

Part 10

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[insideabunker]

The Games: Chapter 12

The dream was the same as always, darkness and the sound of glass shattering followed by silence and the terrible sting of the cold night air.  The wind bit at her nose and cheeks and something pressed down on her shoulder, crushing her tiny body with its weight.

Lexa woke with a start, her senses slowly returning as she peered around the dark space.  The shades were down, but sunlight slipped in through the cracks, casting eerie shadows across the room and illuminating the blurry figure hovering over her.  She rubbed her eyes, her vision finally focusing on the frowning face of Raven Reyes, who knelt over the bed, clutching twin paper cups of dining hall coffee.  She placed one of the cups on the bedside table and tilted her head toward the door of the room, which she disappeared through without a word.

Lexa untangled herself from the sheets, taking great care not to wake Clarke, who remained tucked into the brunette's chest, fast asleep.  She groped in the semi-dark for her shoes, slipping them on as she grabbed the coffee and snuck out of the room. The door had barely closed behind her before Raven pounced.

"You're sleeping over now?  Is there a U-Haul parked outside somewhere?"

Lexa gripped her coffee cup a little tighter, rattled by the girl's intensity and nowhere near awake enough to handle the third degree.

"What time is it?"

"Five AM, now answer my question."

"Clarke asked me to stay."

The corners of Raven's mouth rounded downward into a scowl, her eyes narrowing in disapproval.  "Did you manage to convince Clarke to get her leg looked at?"

Lexa sipped the coffee guiltily, trying to buy enough time to come up with a good excuse.

"No."

Raven rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the answer.  "Damn it, Woods, I was counting on you!" 

"I'm sorry."  Lexa fidgeted with her coffee cup, nervously wondering why she hadn't tried harder to talk sense into Clarke.  Then again, she thought, why hadn't Raven if it was so important?

"What about you? You could have stayed and helped me instead of just disappearing."

Raven scowled.  "I did not just disappear.  I went to find our coach, who was off screaming to the IOC about that sad-ass excuse for a referee.  Kane left right after the game ended; otherwise, he would have insisted on Clarke getting examined."  She glanced at the door, lowering her voice.  "Did you at least get a look at it?"

Lexa nodded.

"And?"

"Honestly?"  The goalie shuffled in place, rubbing her neck nervously.  "I mean, I'm not a doctor," she skirted the question, swallowing the guilt that welled up as she thought about the angry, purple bruising along Clarke's thigh.  "She said that if it didn't feel better this morning, she'd have it checked out by your trainers."

Frustrated, Raven ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the roots as she clenched her jaw tightly.  Lexa watched the muscles in her cheeks flex as she ground her teeth together, her irritation evident.  After a few moments of tense silence, Lexa cleared her throat, attempting to change the subject.

"Look, I don't know Clarke that well but..."

"That's right." The statement seemed to call Raven back from whatever had been on her mind. Her attention snapped to Lexa, completely focused on the goalie's features as she stared her down.  "You don't know her that well, but I do."  She let out a sharp breath, sipping more of her coffee as she surveyed the hallways to make sure they were still alone.

"Woods, listen to me.  I've known that girl since she was seventeen.  Clarke is my best friend."  

Raven ran a  hand over her tired face, massaging the slightly purple bags that had formed under her dark eyes.  "She's more than stubborn; she's downright unreasonable.  Winning gold means everything to her. She's not going to let anything get in the way of that, even if it means risking a permanent injury."

Raven's face softened.  "Do you know why it took Clarke more than a year to rehabilitate her knee?"

Lexa shook her head, waiting for the American goalie to illuminate her.

"It took her so long because she nearly re-injured it halfway through rehab.  She was pushing too hard, and she put a micro tear in the cadaver ligament she'd received."  Raven stared at her seriously.  "Look, if you're going to be sticking around, you've got to understand how intense Clarke is.  She doesn't know when to quit.  She'll work herself into her grave if you let her."

Lexa's face fell, her guilt growing as she realized how little she'd done to convince Clarke to get her leg appropriately treated.

"So," the American goaltender stared at her Canadian counterpart skeptically. "Are you?"

Lexa looked up, confused by Raven's question.  "Am I what?"

"Are you sticking around?"

Lexa bit her lip apprehensively, unsure how much she wanted to admit to Clarke's closest friend.

"I'd like to," she paused.  "If she'll let me."

Raven bowed her head, staring at her toes thoughtfully.  "Maybe she will,"  she looked up, her expression deadly serious.  "But, if you care about her you'll help her make the right decision, especially when she refuses to make it for herself."

"Is it just me or is it cold in here?"

Clarke rolled her eyes at her father, smiling at his telltale smirk as he beamed down at her.  Warm yellow light from the afternoon sun spilled through the windows of the old rink, making Jake's face glow.

"Very funny, Dad."

"I'm just saying."  His eyes sparkle with mischief. "I remember this place being warmer when you were a kid."

He shoved his daughter with his elbow, smiling at her reverentially as he gave her the once-over.  "How ya been, Kid?"

Clarke shrugged.  "Tired."

"Of the game?"

"No," she shook her head.  "That's the one thing I never get tired of."

Clarke sighed and leaned into her father's side, burrowing herself into the old, flannel lined corduroy jacket that he was never without.  She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of old spice, bay rum, and stale tobacco that always seemed to cling to him.

"Still smoking?"

"I'll quit when I'm dead."

"Not funny." She frowned, surprised to find that a lump was forming at the back of her throat.  "I miss you," Clarke barely managed to eke out as she forced back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I miss you too, Kid."  Jake wrapped one of his strong arms around her shoulders and pulled her tighter to him, gazing back at the rink as the shotgun crack of a slap shot broke the silence of the arena.

They stared down at the ice, watching as the puck sailed into the outstretched glove of a goalie.  Clarke watched at the goaltender curiously, recognizing the curly tendrils that peaked out from underneath her helmet.

"Who's the sieve?"

"I, um..."  Clarke fumbled for a way to explain Lexa's odd appearance in her dreamscape.  "Dad, what's she doing here?"

"You tell me, Kid." Jake smiled as he watched the masked figure discard the puck from her glove and crouch lower, readying herself for another shot.  "Never knew you had a thing for goalies."

Clarke felt the blood rush to her face, the blush spreading all the way across her cheeks to the tip of her ears.  "Dad!"

"What?"  He flashed a grin at her.  "You old man can't ask about your love life?"

Clarke blushed even harder, sure that by now, she had turned beet red.  "It's just," she paused thinking of all the conversations they'd never been able to have.  "I never got a chance to tell you..."

"That you're into brunettes?"

"Dad..." Clarke narrowed her eyes, imploring him to solemnity.  "Please, be serious."

Jake's face softened as he pulled her closer.  He stared down at her with a look the reflected nothing but pure, unconditional adoration.  "Kid, why didn't you just tell me?"

"I hadn't really figured it out yet."  Clarke sighed, burying herself farther into her father's side, thoroughly embarrassed.

Jake patted his daughter's shoulder reassuringly, thinking for a moment. "I always wondered why you never went through that boy-crazy phase your mother kept warning me was coming."

 "I thought I was just focused," she shrugged.  "Are you mad?"

There was a pause, and then to Clarke's surprise, a giant roar burst from Jake's lips.  "Kid..." His sides shook as deep belly laughter doubled him over, making his eyes water.  "My one dream in life was that I’d never lose you to some boy."  He wiped tears from his eyes, taking a moment to let his chuckling subside.  "I couldn't be happier."

It took a moment, but Jake finally managed regained his composure.  He winked at his daughter.  "So you like this girl?"

"I do," she nodded.

"Like, or like?"  He emphasized the last word, cocking one eyebrow.

Clarke avoided his gaze, feeling suddenly awkward.  She shuffled her feet nervously.  "I haven't known her very long.  I'm not sure yet.”

Jake's expression became wistful.  "You know," he paused, pondering something for a moment.  "I knew how I felt about your mother five seconds after I met her."  He nudged his daughter in the ribs, playfully.  "Some things, Clarke, you just know."

Clarke continued to stare at her shoes.  "You should see her play; she's so good."

"As good as you?"

Clarke's shoulders slumped, her face falling at the question.  "I'm not so sure about that these days."

"Hey..." She felt her father's fingers under her chin as he tiled her head up to look him in the eyes.  "Don't ever say that."

Clarke tried to look away, but her father held her gaze.  "I didn't teach you hockey because I loved the game.  I taught you hockey because from the moment you first put on skates I couldn't keep you off the ice.  You love to play, and you're great at it; the best."

Clarke finally looked up, acknowledging the honesty in her father's words.  She reached out a hand, squeezing her bad knee as it began to ache. "I'm not sure how long I've got left, Dad."

Jake nodded, his face solemn.  "None of us do, but you know what I always say."

"Find what you love and let it kill you."  They spoke the words at the same time, both smiling at the well-worn expression.

"Can you stay for a bit?"

Jake sighed, his eyes turning glassy.  "'Fraid not."

Clarke clenched her jaw tightly, refusing to let their last moment be a sad one.  She burrowed back into her father's side, wrapping her arms around his wiry frame as his arms encircled her one last time.

"I love you, Kid."

"I love you too, Dad."  Suddenly, the rink was dark.  The pressure of her father's strong, sturdy arms disappeared, and all Clarke could feel was a rush of cold air.  Then her eyes flickered, and she was awake, suddenly aware of a new set of arms wrapping themselves around her waist.

Lexa shifted behind her, pulling the blonde closer as she slid under the covers of the bed.  Clarke stretched a bit, turning herself so that they were facing one another.

"Hey."

"Hey," Lexa smiled apprehensively, clumsily rubbing at the back of her neck.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's ok."  Too tired to be concerned with the intimacy of the gesture, Clarke tucked herself closer into Lexa, leaning her head into the crook of the larger girl's arm.  "Where did you go?"  She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of deodorant and soap.

The goalie kissed the top of Clarke's head and ran a  hand through her disheveled locks, pushing stray blonde strands out of her face.  It was a tender gesture that, ordinarily, would have made Clarke anxious.  To the blonde's surprised, however, she found herself closing her eyes in contentment.

"That feels nice."

Lexa chuckled.  "Speaking of how things feel," she cringed, knowing that her attempt at a smooth transition had been clumsy at best. "How's the leg?"

Cautiously, Clarke began to move her ailing limb.  She stretched the leg, extending it nearly all the way before she winced at the tenderness.  "Well, I can move it at least.  She wiggled her toes, thankful to feel that she had full motion in all of them.  "No numbness or tingling in my foot."

The Canadian bit her lip, nervous to inquire any further.  "And the pain?"

Clarke attempted to bend the limb in the opposite direction, finding that it was much stiffer and more sore upon flexion.  "Well, it doesn't feel great."  She grimaced, "but, then again, it's felt worse."

"Can I take a look?"  Lexa tensed, bracing for Clarke to become defensive.  For a moment the smaller woman stiffened, but the tension in her small frame eased a second later, and Lexa felt her nod into her chest.

The brunette pushed her body upright, pulling back the covers just enough to expose Clarke's legs.  Slowly, she pushed the leg of Clarke's sweatpants up, careful not to jostle her limb as she moved.  Lexa recoiled at the sight of the angry purple bruising that seemed to have grown darker overnight.  

"Clarke," she hesitated, not wanting to upset the fierce girl tucked into her side.  "The bruising looks worse than it did last night."

Clarke nodded, surprisingly calm.  "That's normal.  She raised herself on her hands, chancing a glance at the leg.  Clarke frowned, growling in frustration as observed that the damage had not magically disappeared.  "That's just the blood losing oxygen as it raises to the surface of the injury."

"Wow," Lexa sounded genuinely impressed by her companion's savvy.  "Check you out, Dr. Griffin."

Clarke rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, right."  She collapsed back against the pillows, groaning in discouragement.

"Clarke," Lexa hesitant, afraid to push the issue any further.  "You said you'd have your trainer look at your leg if it was still bothering you today."

"I know but..."  Clarke rolled closer, settling her weight against Lexa's body.  "Can we just lay here for a while? Please?"  She cuddled up against Lexa's side, sliding a hand underneath her t-shirt and trailing her fingers along sinew and rib.

Lexa shivered at Clarke's touch, her better judgment melting away as goosebumps formed along her skin.  "Yeah, sure.  We can lie here for a little longer."

Lexa shuffled down into the covers and slipped an arm over Clarke's waist, desperately trying not to grin like a fool.  She knew she should feel guilty for giving in so easily, but something about Clarke's touch, something about the way she said "please," tore at Lexa's resolve.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

Clarke shook her head.  "I'm not sure I can sleep right now."  She continued to gently stroke Lexa's side with the blades of her fingers.  "Can you talk to me for a while?  Just until I fall back asleep?"

Lexa let her hand dip below Clark's sweatshirt.  She ran a flat palm over her spine and began to rub slow circles over the tense muscles of her back.  She felt almost giddy at the way Clarke' hummed into her chest, clearly enjoying herself.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Clarke breathed contentedly, thinking for a moment.  "I was pretty awful to you last night.  Why did you take care of me?"

Lexa considered how to answer the question, ultimately deciding that honestly was her best option.  She allowed herself a moment to gather the right words, and when the moment was over, stated simply, "Because, you matter to me."

"We just met though,"  Clarke peered up at her, her fingers stilling as she stared up inquisitively.  "How..." she hesitated, trying to understand how Lexa could be so sure about something in so little time.  "I mean, why?"

Unable to articulate her answer, Lexa shrugged.  "Some things you just know, I guess."

Clarke nearly froze at the brunette's words, the sound of them ringing in her ears as she remembered her dream.  Determined that it must be a coincidence, Clarke relaxed again, burying her face back into the crook of Lexa's arm.

"Well, thank you for staying."

"Of course."  Lexa leaned in, allowing her chin to rest on the top of the blonde's head.  She closed her eyes and continued to rub soothing circles up and down Clarke's back.  "What else do you want to talk about?"

Clarke thought for a moment, contemplating her options.  "Tell me about where you grew up."

Lexa laughed.  "It was called Rat Portage until 1905."

"Dare I ask why?"  Clarke laughed softly into the worn fabric of Lexa's t-shirt.

"I'm sure you can guess.  The goalie shifted her long frame, allowing Clarke to rest more of her weight on her.

"It's small, not as small as your hometown, but small enough.  In the summer, it's full of tourists and mosquitoes.  In the winter the only things to do are hole up in a bar and drink, or play hockey."

Lexa fought a grin, giggling to herself.  "Actually, there was one other thing to do in the winter."

She pinched Clarke's side playfully and earned a finger jab in return. "Very funny," Clarke murmured.  "I suppose that means you broke lots of hearts."

Lexa scoffed.  "Hardly.  There wasn't exactly a plethora of sapphically inclined girls at Beaver Brae Secondary School."

Clarke choked on a laugh. "That wasn't the name of your high school, was it?"

"It was, indeed.  Our mascot, somewhat incredibly, was the Bronco."

"Wait," Clarke raised one eyebrow.  "Your high school was named Beaver Brae, but your mascot was a horse?"

Lexa shrugged.  "It's Canada. We try to avoid redundancy by not doubling down on beaver themed everything."

"Anyway," the brunette smirked, tracing the edge of the dimple that appeared in Clarke's cheek each time she smiled.  "There were a few curious girls at a handful of parties, but I was hardly breaking anyone's heart.  Most people didn't come out until after high school."

Clarke raised her eyebrows inquisitively.  "Was it hard being out where you grew up?"

Lexa's brow furrowed in thought, her mouth puckering to side as she considered the question.  "Maybe a little," she shrugged.  "I mean, Canadians don't care that much about gay stuff.  Mostly, Kenora was just small.  There weren't that many of us.  Not much point in being out if there isn't anyone to date."  Lexa ran the tip of her finger over the helix of Clarke's ear, eliciting a soft moan from the blonde. "People knew though.  Nobody gave me too hard a time."

Clarke continued to savor the feeling of Lexa's touch as the brunette's fingers moved from the top of her ear to the soft skin of her neck.  She closed her eyes, relishing the way it made her spine tingle.

"What about you?"

Clarke's eyelids fluttered open.  She stared at the olive-skinned girl whose fingers were now tracing the lines of her ribs. "What about me?"

"What were you like in high school?"

"Focused." Clarke rolled her eyes, thinking back to life in her tiny Minnesotan town.  "I had a boyfriend for about six months during my sophomore year, but he took too much time away from hockey.  "Plus," Clarke made a face remembering the hardships of making out when two sets of braces were involved.  "He wasn't a very good kisser, so I ended things."

Lexa tried not to laugh.  "Poor guy.  He must have been devastated."

"Perhaps, but I'm sure Brock Larson managed to move on."  

Lexa bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "You high school boyfriend's name was Brock?"

"Yes, it was." Clarke laughed at the memory fo her first boyfriend, a tall, skinny young man with sandy blonde hair who had been the object of every sixteen-year-old girl's affection.  "My friends thought I was crazy to break up with him," she smiled.  "He made boy's varsity as a freshman and was related to Dave Christian on his mother's side."

"Dave who?"  Lexa cocked her head to the side, lost as to about who Clarke was talking.

"Dave Christian?"  Clarke waited for Lexa to recognize the name. "The Lake Placid Olympics? Miracle on Ice?  NHL player?"

Lexa shrugged.

"He is one of the eight Olympic hockey players who've come from my town."

"Damn!" Lexa's eyes went wide "Are you guys running a breeding program?"

"We have an algorithm," Clarke deadpanned.  "Anyway, dad got sick right after I broke up with Brock.  After he died, I kept to myself and concentrated on hockey. I had to focus on getting a scholarship.  I didn't exactly have time for romance."

"So not much has changed?"  Lexa grinned mischievously, squeezing Clarke's hip.

"Very funny."  Clarke shifted her weight, settling into Lexa's chest. She laced her fingers into the brunette's hair and began running her hand through the mess of wavy curls.  "I almost had a girlfriend in college, but it didn't work out."

Lexa savored the feeling of Clarke's fingers as they massaged her scalp. "Why not?"  

"It's complicated."  Clarke continued to work her fingers through the tangles in Lexa's hair.  "People knew I was bisexual at college, but not at home.  She wanted to date openly, and that was more than I could handle at the time."

"And now? "

Clarke sighed.  "I think people back home suspect, but they've stopped asking.  Besides, I've been so focused on the game for the last ten years that I've barely had time for myself, let alone anyone else."

"That sounds familiar."  Lexa pulled Clarke closer. She enjoyed the feeling of the warm body pressed against her and thought of the many long nights she’d spent on the road, curled up in bed alone in a dingy hotel room.  "It would be nice though."

"Hmm?"  Clarke's hand stilled.

"To have someone."  The goalie stroked the small of Clarke's back with the blade of her thumb, leaving goosebumps along her skin.

Clarke closed her eyes, imagining for a brief moment a life where obligations didn't bind her to team and county.  "It would be," she smiled sadly, "but I owe too much to my team to lose focus right now."

Lexa nodded, trying not to feel disappointed at Clarke's response.  "Well..."  She leaned in, kissing the top of Clarke's head absentmindedly.  "Maybe, one day, you and I will owe nothing more to our teams."

The blonde buried her face in the crook of Lexa's neck, inhaling the scent of her.  "I hope so."

For a while longer they lay there, bodies enmeshed, minds close to sleep but never quite there.  Finally, Clarke groaned, the ache in her leg getting the better of her.  She pushed herself up on her elbows wincing as she pulled back the covers.  "I think I better try to stretch this thing if I want to play on it again."

Lexa bolted upright at the statement, utterly confused.  "I thought you said you were going to get it looked at?”

Clarke swung her legs over the far side of the bed, cautiously testing the amount of weight the injured limb could support.  She stood up, wincing a little as she transferred a bit of her balance onto it.  "I said I'd get it looked at if it didn’t feel better by today.  It feels better."

"It looks worse."

"It always looks worse when it's healing,” Clarke said, brushing off the Canadian’s concern. She began hobbling towards the bathroom, and Lexa jumped up behind her, ready to catch her the moment the leg buckled.  Remarkably the blonde managed to bear weight on it, limping into the bathroom on her own to retrieve the bottle of Motrin.  She shuffled back towards the bed slowly and lowered herself onto the mattress with great effort.

"Lexa, it's a bad bruise.  I'll be fine after some rest and ice.  Besides, we don't have a game for two more days."

"Clarke..."

"Lexa, I'm fine."  She swallowed several pills and scooted back on the bed, stretching the leg out in front of her as she reached for her toes.  Carefully she bent forward, tensing her jaw as she began stretching the tender muscles.

"But..."

"I'm fine!"  The words came out through clenched teeth, though Clarke managed to smile through the pain.  "I promise."

Unsure of how to proceed, Lexa hung stiffly in front of the bed.  She stared down awkwardly at the frustratingly determined captain, racking her brain for a solution.  Thankfully, Clarke offered her one.

"Look, if you're that worried, we can meet up tonight.  That way you can check on me."

"Meet up?"

"Yes, for drinks, maybe food,”  Clarke smirked, as though Lexa had just missed the most obvious implication in the world. 

"Food?"  Lexa's eyebrows nearly shot up to the top of her head when she realized what Clarke was suggesting.  "Like, in front of other people?'

"Unless you'd like to meet in secret."  Clarke grimaced, continuing to stretch her stiff and bruised leg.  "Or do you not want to meet at all?"

"No!"  Lexa bit her lip, blushing at her outburst.  "I mean, yes, I do. I'd like that."

Clarke rolled her eyes at the sudden ineptitude of the usually cocky girl, relishing the effect her invitation was having on her.  "Ok, but let's meet off campus. " Clarke massaged her thigh, trying to work out the stiffness in the muscles.  "Some of the girls went out into the city the other night.  They said the Budnamu Brewery was great.  Would 7 pm be alright?"

"I... Yeah, of course."

“Good, then it's a date."

"A date?"

"Yes, a date." Clarke deadpanned. "I mean, it's been a while, but I'm pretty sure the kids still call it that."

"It's a date," Lexa nodded dumbly, stunned that Clarke was asking her out, and in public no less.

"I should shower." Clarke struggled to her feet and cast a furtive glance at the bathroom door.

"You should shower."  Lexa's head wagged up and down, too dumbfounded to pay much attention to what Clarke was saying.

"Lexa...?"

The goalie looked up, snapping back to reality.  "Oh, Right!"  She cleared her throat, trying not to turn red.  "You shower.  I should go."  Lexa grabbed her sweatshirt from the chair in the corner, hurriedly pulling it on over her head as she mussed out her wild mane and shoved her feet into the boots that lay haphazardly by the bed.

"7 pm at Budnamu Brewery?

Clarke nodded.

"And you promise to get your leg look at if it starts bothering you?"

Clarke nodded.

“Ok.  I’ll see you at seven."

Lexa turned to leave but was stopped by a small hand grabbing her elbow.

"Wait."  Clarke bit her lip nervously, hesitating.  Slowly, she leaned up on the tiptoes of her uninjured leg and pressed her lips to the corner of Lexa's mouth, delivering a soft kiss.

"Thank you for staying."

Lexa was in a daze as she drifted down the hallway and boarded the waiting elevator, nearly forgetting to press the button for the first floor.  Clarke had asked her on a date.  It felt almost too good to be true, and yet it had happened.  Lexa had the text confirming the details on her phone.  She could barely contain the smile on her face as she floated through the elevator doors and into the cavernous lobby of the dormitory.  Nothing in the world could bring her down at the moment. 

"Lexa Woods?”

Nothing, except for the sound of her name coming from the stern looking man in the dark grey suit.  He approached her from the cafeteria, and out of the corner of her eye Lexa watched as Raven slipped away, apparently having just finished a conversation with him.  The man held his hand out for her.   "Marcus Kane.  I'm the head coach of Team USA Women's hockey."

Lexa took his hand and shook it firmly.  "Nice to meet you, Sir."

He smiled politely, his appearance losing some of its gruffness.  "May I speak with you a moment?" He gestured to a small lounge just off the entrance to the main lobby.

Reluctantly, she agreed, following him to a suite of armchairs tucked in the back.  The goalie took a seat across from him, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded in her ears as he watched her.

"So," he began earnestly. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude.  I hear you cared for an injured player of mine last night, Clarke Griffin."

Lexa nodded apprehensively.  “I did."

Kane looked solemn as he contemplated the young women across from him.  "I understand that you two have been spending some time together.  Am I correct in that understanding?"

Lexa nodded again, her pulse racing as she worried about the direction in which their conversation seemed to be headed.  "That's correct, Sir."

He furrowed his brow, his expression grave.  "Miss Woods, given your respective positions on opposing teams, you understand that the two of you spending time together could be construed as…” Kane searched carefully for the right word.  “Inappropriate?”

“Yes.”

Kane purses his lips for a moment, analyzing her answer skeptically.  Finally, his expression softened.  "Luckily I considered Miss Griffin's integrity to be unimpeachable.  However, should the two of you choose to continue to see each other socially, I would advise you to proceed with the utmost discretion.”

Lexa nodded vigorously.  "I understand, Sir."

"Good then." Appearing satisfied, Kane patted the armrest absentmindedly. "In that case, Miss Woods, I only need to ask one more thing of you."

Lexa swallowed, dreading his next question.

"What's that, Sir?"

"I need to tell me whether or not my team Captain is hiding an injury from me."

Lexa's heart nearly jumped out of her chest.  It sounded like a bass drum, thumping in her ears and drowning out the hum of the lobby around them.

"I... I don't."

"The truth, Miss Woods."

At that moment Lexa's conscience was entirely at war with itself.  Lie, and she put Clarke at risk, or tell the truth and betray her trust.  Neither one was an attractive option, and she shifted nervously in her seat, unwilling to choose either.

"Lexa..."

She sighed, resigning herself to the lesser of two evil.  Surely, Clarke couldn't fault her for being concerned.

"She says it's fine but, it looks pretty bad.  She can walk on it a little but.…” She bit her lip nervously.  "I think she's probably fine," she back peddled, attempted to reassure him. “Maybe she should have a doctor look at it though, just to be safe."

Kane smiled at her, smoothing out the wrinkles in his pant legs as he rose.  "Thank you for your honesty, Miss Woods."

With that, he started towards the elevators, leaving Lexa to dread her decision.

Next Chapter ->

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[100vampdragons]

Tell me what you want

Hey guys! First Bellarke fanfic on tumblr! Here goes Caution: smut Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than Clarke. He can't seem to shake his thoughts of her these days. Not that she's making it very easy for him. She's been giving him subtle touches lately. Hand touching, shoulder patting, and a damn kiss on the cheek. Clarke Griffin will be his undoing. "Bellamy?" Is he hallucinating her voice now? God Bellamy! Get a grip! He squeezes his eyes tighter, trying to force himself to sleep. "Bellamy..." Well that was definitely real. Bellamy opens his eyes to see Clarke at the opening of his tent. Just her head popped in, timid and unsure. "Were you sleeping?" Bellamy snaps out of his daze. This isn't a dream. Clarke is standing in his tent. Well almost. "No. Not at all. What's up?" His voice is gruff. Clarke walks into his tent and his face turns red with blush. Not to mention what's going on in his pants. She has only a t-shirt and underwear on. "I couldn't really sleep." She mutters. Bellamy clears his threat and rubs his hand on the front of his pants, trying to adjust himself. "Oh." Voice thick. "Um, come on in. " She smiles wide and skips over to his side, her ass bouncing as she goes. He tries to swallow, but can feel himself grow harder under his pants. "Mind if I get in with you?" Does he mind? It's all he could think about. He stares at her face, trying to read what she's implying. Her eyes are playful and she has a devilish smile on her face. Or maybe that's his turned on mind playing tricks on him. "Sure, sure." He scoots over to give her space. She slowly climbs in beside him, her hand grazing his thigh. Bellamy clenches his jaw and tries to maintain his breathing. But Clarke is looking for some fun, she scooches closer to Bellamy, her bare leg coming to rest against his. "You must be uncomfortable in all these clothes Bell." Her small nimble finger gently run over the length of his now hard cock, and his eyes flutter closed. "Let me help." Her fingers move over to the button of his pants and she works at it, pulling them off. "That better?" Now his hard on is very much visible, in just his boxers. Her eyes glance down and her cheeks redden. "Oh" she mutters in amazement. Bellamy's heart races. "Clarke, what're you doing?" He wants nothing more than to be able to touch her right now. "Nothing Bell. Why?" She asks innocently. But there is nothing innocent about the look she's giving him. Without being able to hold out any longer, Bellamy takes Clarke's face between his big hands and presses his lips against hers. She whimpers, causing him to grow impossibly harder. His tongue explores her mouth, hot and wet. Everything he's ever dreamed it would be. And he has dreamed. He pushed her down onto his makeshift bed, climbing on top of her. His cock practically throbbing. Clarke's arms go around him, pulling him flush against her, bucking her hips against his. He groans, eyes rolling at the feel of her rubbing against him. His mouth moves down to her jaw, trailing down to her neck. "Bellamy" she moans. He smirks, kissing and sucking her neck, nibbling when he saw fit. "Is this what you wanted, Princess?" "Oh" she moans again when he pushes himself against her again. "Shirt. Off" she commands. Bellamy glances at her perfectly flushed face. "Mine or yours?" He asks playfully. "Both" Clarke whines. Bellamy sits up, yanking his shirt off. And he's pleasantly rewarded with her awed stare. Her hand moves to touch his toned tanned abdomen. When she realizes her actions, she looks down, pulling her own shirt up. Bellamy is just as awe struck as she was. Her perfectly pale skin, smooth as butter. Immediately his mouth latches on to her nipple, licking and suckling. Raising moans from her. She arches her back, trying to give him more access. But Bellamy isn't done. No, far from it. While his mouth is adorning one nipple, his hand is palming the other. And then he switches off. Giving them both the attention she craves. "Bellamy. Touch me" Clarke moans, and Bellamy is more than happy to oblige. His hand, very slowly, trails down her body. Playing with the hem of her panties, she whimpers again. Begging. He slips his hand down and she gasps at his touch. "You're so wet for me, Princess" he groans when he feels her slick folds. He moves his fingers over her lips and she lets out a moan. Bellamy takes two fingers and starts his rhythmic torture against her clit. Reveling in her moans and gasps. Waiting for her to beg for more. "Bellamy please" she gasps. He smirks and slips those same two finger inside of her, her hips buck. His thumb continuing to circle her clit. He sets the pace and she matches his every pump. He watches her reactions, bringing her to the brink, then pulling away. Again and again. Until he feels she's had enough. He brings her to the edge, pumping his fingers into her, hard and fast, working his thumb against her clit. He feels her walls tighten against his fingers. Her hands claw at his back as she calls his name, over and over again. Clarke comes undone. Bellamy pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth to taste her. Clarke blushes at this, but smiles. But his other hand is rubbing against his cock. She quickly pushes his boxers down, while he yanks off her panties, practically ripping them apart. He puts his hand between them, positioning himself at her entrance. Teasing her pussy with the head of his cock. "Come on Bell!" Agonizingly slow, he pushes himself into her. "Fuck" he moans. He doesn't love for a moment, allowing her to adjust around him. But when her hips start pushing against his, he pulls back out, almost all the way, and pushes himself again. "Fuck Clarke. You're so tight" She gasps. He sets his pace. Pumping in and out of her. His mouth kissing her hotly. Clarke wraps her legs around his waist. "Faster!" She moans. He complies. He feels her walls clenching around him, helping him come with her. She pants and takes her hands down his body. They become sloppy, Bellamy buries his face in her neck, as she bites his shoulder, both of them riding out their orgasm. Bellamy falls limp against Clarke. She runs her fingers through his hair, still feeling her high. He rolls over, pulling her against his chest. "Wow..." she mumbles. He smirks. "Yea. Wow." And he plants a kiss on her head, before he starts slipping into sleep. As blissful as he could be.

[a-kabby-k-fanfictions]

I missed you (Part II)

Ao3

Summary : Marcus and Abby enjoy their first night together after Marcus’ return.

(Part I)

It was already dark when she walked into the mess. She had spent the last few hours saving the two injured warriors and she was exhausted. Most of the citizens of the Ark were still here and the way they were whispering told her that everybody was now fully aware of Luna’s proposal.  

Abby looked around the room and she finally saw Marcus sitting at a table with Octavia, Sinclair, Indra and some others. They were obviously in a deep conversation and she hesitated for a few seconds to join them. She knew that a decision had to be taken. It was now a matter of life and death but a selfish part of herself wished to just enjoy Marcus and Clarke’s return. She was so tired of being afraid of losing them, of always wondering if she would ever see them again.

She waited a few more seconds and finally walked toward them.

«Are they all right ?», Octavia asked her as she sat on the chair next to Marcus.

Abby nodded and gave her a soft reassuring smile.

«Good. Thank you.», said Indra in a monotonous voice.

«We owe it to your people !» She replied with sincerity before turning lightly towards Marcus.

«How did they handle the news ?» She asked him as her gaze traveled across the room.  

He shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

«They’re scared. I think that some of them haven’t still understood that Pike was wrong. None of them has clearly refused but…Well, we can’t say no to Luna. A no would mean a death sentence for all of us.», He answered with concern.  

«We still have time. I’ll talk to them tomorrow. We will show them the way out of the dark. Together. » She promised him as she laid her hand on his and gave it a soft squeeze.

She saw his eyes flicker to her lips and for a split of second, she wondered if he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to but he didn’t. He squeezed her hand back and nodded, his eyes staring right into hers.

After a few second Octavia started to speak again about Luna and her plans. Marcus broke the eyes contact and turned to the girl.

Abby was about to pull out her hand from his but he stopped her by intertwining her fingers with his own. He didn’t look at her but his thumb was now rubbing the back of her hand and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Even if his touch was becoming familiar she couldn’t help but shiver.  

Suddenly the first note of a song resonated in the room and everyone stopped talking. Abby turned her head lightly and saw Macallan sitting at the piano. The beautiful melody gave her chills immediately. She didn’t know that song but there was a sadness and a softness, which sent shivers throughout the world.

She pressed herself further against the back of her chair and her leg brushed involuntarily against Marcus’s under the table. His hand left hers to lay at the base of her neck. She could feel him hesitate for a few second. It was a light and gentle touch, his fingers barely touching her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned into it.

She let herself be carried away by the sound of the music and by Marcus’s caresses. His fingers were lost in her hair and his thumb was rubbing the back of her neck. At this moment, she couldn’t be happier that he was here, that Clarke was finally at home too. Hearing this music was like hearing her own heart crying for them.

She felt tears springing to her eyes and she suddenly felt the need to touch the man next to her. She put her hand on his knee and tightened her grip on it.

«Are you ok?» He asked her softly after tilting his head, his lips nearly touching her ear.

She turned to him and pressed her forehead against his. She didn’t care about what their people would think anymore, what they could say about them, about the way their two leaders were in love. Loving him wasn’t, couldn’t be, a problem, loosing him was! She cared about how her daughter would feel about this. Seeing her mother with another man, with Marcus Kane but it wasn’t the time to think, to hold back her feelings. The war was coming, it was time to live.

«Yes…It’s just…I have missed you so much…» She said as she reached for his other hand and invited him to put it on her thigh.

«I’m here Abby! I’m not going anywhere…» He reassured her, his thumb stroking her leg.

«I know…but…I…’’She started to say but stopped herself unsure of how to end her sentence.

She swallowed and felt her cheeks starting to turn red. She didn’t know how to tell him what she really wanted, what she really needed, what she was dreaming about every single night since he had escaped. She knew she could tell him everything, even her worst fears and her darker secrets. She had told him about her guilt over Jake’s death, she had told him about Clarke and the missile at Ton DC and she didn’t need to tell him about her worry over Clarke after Mount Weather because he already knew…She trusted him, she loved him but this was something new, something that was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before nuzzling against his jaw then against his neck.

«Take me to bed Marcus…» She whispered in his ear.

She felt him tense and she nearly could hear his heart skip a beat.

«Abby…» He breathed, his fingers tightening around her thigh.

«I don’t want to sleep alone, not anymore…not when I now know what it feels like to be in your arms…» She confessed as her lips brushed against his jawbone.

Marcus put his head back lightly and looked into her eyes. He stayed quiet for a few second as a multitude of emotion passed across his face.

Finally, he nodded lightly and stood up from his chair. She did the same, her heart beating frantically in her chest at the thought of what is coming next. He said something about escorting her to her quarters but no one seemed to care. They were all  transported by the sound of the piano.

His hand never left the small of her back until they arrived in front of her room. They didn’t speak and Abby felt like a teenager again. She felt like this during her first dates with Jake so many years ago, back on the Ark. It was strange to feel like this again, to feel this kind of excitement in the pit of her stomach, to feel her hands becoming clammy, and her breath becoming harder.

As she started to type the security code of her door she realized that her hands were shaking lightly. Marcus probably saw it too because she felt his hand sliding up and down her spine. The door opened and she walked inside.

She didn’t turn toward him as she heard his step behind her. She walked to her desk and stopped a few second. She could feel Marcus’s eyes on her back as she took the ring which laid between her breast. She closed her eyes and expressed silently some loving words for her dead husband.  

«What are you…», He started to say as she took off the chain and put it on her desk.

«The past belongs in the past… I need to move on…», She answered as she turned toward him with a gentle smile on her lips.

«You don’t need to…», He started to say but she cut him off.

«I want to! I want to move on….with you…» She said firmly as she removed her wedding ring.

«I loved Jake. A part of me will always love him but… I love you too and we are here, together. We’re not the same people that we were on the Ark. I don’t want to just start a new chapter, I want to write a new book…»

He stared at her for a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity to her and then he closed the gap between them and kissed her, hard. As hard as their first kiss. One of his hands cupped her face and the other rested against the small of her back, holding her close. She automatically rose to her tiptoes to deepen the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. A pleasurable warmth started to spread throughout her entire body as she felt Marcus’s tongue slide into her mouth. She moaned with pleasure against his lips and returned him the favor. She let her tongue slide along his bottom lip and then sucked on his with a kind of eagerness. He seemed to like that because his hand against the small of her back slid down her ass to press her hips tighter against his.

She repressed a laugh and did it again, harder, with a wicked smile at the corner of her lips. She wanted him wild and hot with desire. She wanted to consummate this entire secret and unavow sexual tension, which haunted them for years. She wanted him and she didn’t want him to hold anything back. Her fingers found their way in his hair and her nails started to scratch gently at his scalp.

This time, his second hand joined the other and before she could realize it, he was lifting her up in the air. She let out a gasp, which quickly turned into a moan as Marcus’s mouth found it’s way to the valley between her breasts. She tilted her head and kissed the top of his head as he carried her to the bed.

He laid her down carefully onto the mattress and took off his jacket before joining her, his eyes filled with desire and lust. This gaze did something inexplicable to her. After all those months alone she had forgotten how it felt to be wanted, to feel desirable, to feel as a woman and not just as a leader, as a doctor or as a mother.

A pulse of arousal took over her and she couldn’t resist reaching for him and pulling him above her. This time it was his turn to smile because of her eagerness. She knew he was about to say something but she didn’t give him the time to open his mouth. She took his face in her hands and captured his lips in another heated kiss. He didn’t complain, quite the contrary. He kissed her back with a passion she didn’t know he was capable of. He was devouring her lips, exploring each part of her mouth with a fervor, which made her brain freeze up. Her hands clenched at his back and her hips started to move subtly against his.

His body responded automatically to hers. He pressed his pelvis harder against hers and a deep and a out of control moan left her throat.

«God Abby…» He breathed as he buried his mouth on her neck, his hand traveling along her ribcage to finally find its way up her shirt.  

A shiver ran through her body, from her tiptoes to the base of her spine at the feeling of his big and hot hand on her skin.

«Take it off!» She begged him more than she ordered him.

She didn’t have to ask twice. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. He started to kiss her neck again but she stopped him.

«Yours too!» She said with an unusually raspy voice.

«If it’s a chancellor’s order…» He said with a grin before complying.

She looked at him as he took off his shirt and she let her hands travel along his hard chest. His skin was almost feverish under her palms and she was suddenly craved to kiss it. She started to stand back up but he grabbed her wrist and forced her to lie down again, her hands above her head.

«You first…» He said as he attacked her neck once more, sucking at her pulse point.

«Can I ask why?» She asked playfully.

«Because I dream about doing this every night…» He told her as his tongue slid slowly along her neck.

«And you think I don’t?»  She retorted with a smirk.

«Do you?» He asked in turn.

She opened her mouth to answer him but the words died on her tongue as she felt one of his hands leaving her wrist to unzip her jeans. In a heartbeat, his fingers found their way under her underwear and she couldn’t help but catch her breath in anticipation.

«Do you?» He insisted again as he pulled his head back to look at her.

«Yes… “ She breathed as she rocked her hips against his hand, eyes half-closed, so overwhelmed by this new, intoxicating sensation that and she didn’t realize that one of her hands was free now to touch him.

«Good to know…» He whispered in her ear in a low voice as his fingers started to move lightly, gently, almost teasingly against her wetness.

She tilted her head back against the pillow, her breath speeding up as she felt her whole body starting to shudder.

«Kiss me…» She pleaded, reaching frantically for the back of his head.

Marcus did as she asked and captured her lips in a sensual, bruised kiss. She felt all of her muscles tense as his thumb flickered over her clit and she had to repress a powerful moan by biting her bottom lip.

«I need to see all of you…» He breathed against her mouth and before she could realize it, her boots, socks, jeans and her underwear were flying in the air.

«Hungry?» She teased, raising a mischievous eyebrow at him as he lay again above her.

«For you, always…» He confessed with an honesty that warmed up her heart.

She reached for his jaw and stroked gently his beard, her eyes focused on his. It felt so good to have him back again. To have him full of desire and love in her arms.  In only six months he had became so important to her. On one side it was strange, she felt like their relationship on the Ark was nothing more than a nightmare. It seemed so unreal to her because this Marcus, this man who was now looking at her, kissing her, loving her, would never hurt her, or do something horrible to her. Now he was the man he was always supposed to be, the man she was destined to love.

«Are you ok?” He asked her, frowning as she realized her eyes were suddenly filled with tears.

She nodded and pulled his forehead against hers.

«Yes…. better than ever…» She said, as her lips brushed lightly against his nose, his jaw, then his mouth.  

«I’ve never been with someone else other than…» She started to confess but he cut her off.

«I’ve never been with someone special. I mean, someone I love…so I guess this is something new for both of us…» He told her, as his hands started to travel across her body again.

She nodded in agreement and she couldn’t help but to smile.

«I owe you so much Abby…» He whispered against her collarbone, his fingers brushing along the curve of her breast.

«You taught me to have hope, you taught me to trust, you taught me to love…I could never…» He continued, one of his hands sliding behind her back to unclasp her bra.

«You taught me that people can change, you taught me that I can love again, you taught me that someone…You…can make me feel this way again…We have learned from each other Marcus and we don’t have to keep score.» She told him, as her hands forced him to look at her again.

«And if you really want to thank me then do it now…Do it with your mouth, do it with your hands, do it with all of your body…» She murmured, her gaze hot with desire.

He stared at her right into her eyes for a second and then swooped on her now free breast.

«I will…» He said before taking her nipple fully into his mouth.

«I swear to God, I will Abby…» He said again in a tone, which sounded like a vow.

«Every single day until our last day on earth…» He added, punctuating each word by a hot open-mouth kiss on her breast.

«Good to know…» She hummed as she arched her back in pleasure.

After that, none of them wanted to speak again, or rather couldn’t speak again. His mouth was traveling, tasting, enjoying every part of her skin, even the most intimate places and the only sound that could get out of her throat was moans. He was licking, suckling, nibbling at her most sensitive area and she was lost. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t reason anymore. All she could do was feel. Feeling his tongue teasing her, feeling his beard tickling her skin, feeling his hot breath warming her up. Feeling him sending her over the edge all over again.

When she was finally wet enough, trembling and panting he allowed himself to remove his own pants and underwear. She immediately reached for his shoulders and pulled him down for a heart-stopping kiss.

She let her hand slide between their bodies and grabbed firmly at his hardness. She started to stroke the tip of his cock and flashes of electricity traveled through her whole body at each of his groans. She liked that, hearing his pleasure, hearing the pleasure she gave him.

«God I want you so much…» He breathed as she felt his body tense above hers.

«Then have me Marcus…. have me…. now…» She whispered, as her hips raised to meet his with eagerness.

He bent his head to kiss her again and in a heartbeat, he was inside her. He was in the place he was supposed to be, in a place she wanted him to be for so long.

«Oh my…Yes…» She moaned, unable to keep quiet at the feeling of him inside her.

It was almost too good to be true. For a second she wondered if all of this was a dream. He had barely started to fill her and she felt already complete. She felt dizzy and ecstatic. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she wrapped her thighs around his hips to take him in completely.

«You’ll be the end of me…» He said before suckling savagely at her pulse-point.

«And you’ll be mine… She answered him in a quick breath as he started to move.

She could feel him smiling against her skin and she had to repress the tears, which came to her eyes again. After all this time she had forgotten how it felt to be happy. Truly happy, just happy. For a second she hated herself for being so laughably highly-sensitive but how couldn’t she not be? He was supposed to be dead and she was supposed to never know how it felt like to be in his arms, to feel him inside her. But now he was there and despite the war going on, they still had the time to enjoy each other, to savor each other’s touch, each other’s kisses.

«Love me Marcus…Love me like if it was our last day…» She begged him as her hands, now on his back, incited him to go deeper, harder.

And then he did. One of his arms slid behind the small of her back as he wrapped his other around her shoulders. They were so pressed against each other than even the air couldn’t pass between their bodies. He thrust into her again and again and again. He thrust into her with all the strength, the love and the craving he had.

He was murmuring things into her ear but her brain was blank and she couldn’t register something else than the fire that was growing in her lower belly. Nothing could be better than that. Nothing better than making love with Marcus Kane. Even the City of Light described by Jaha, with no pain, with no suffering, couldn’t be as good as the feeling of Marcus moving inside her.

Her moans became louder as his body responded to hers. She was in heaven. Her heart was beating so fast that without her ribcage it probably would have jumped out her chest. She could barely breathe but it was so perfect that she didn’t want it to stop. She wanted to feel this, to feel Marcus’ body against hers for the rest of her life.

He continued to slam into her and she met each of his thrust halfway until she came. Hard. Like she never did before. In a heartbeat, he followed her with a low groan and he collapsed into her arms, sweaty and as breathless as her.  

«I want to do this again…» He said against the skin of her shoulder and she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

«Oh we will…» She promised him as she stroked lovingly at his hair and gave him a soft kiss on his temple.