#he's gone so far into this idea that imps are deserving of as much respect as higher ranked demons that showing ANY weakness is

[sidestriker]

hc + 😨 !! ( might have gotten the wrong emoji but it’s the fear based one )

hc + 😨 for a fear-themed headcanon

striker doesn't have a lot of outward indications of fear. that's not to say he never feels it---but if you were to ask whether he had a fight, flight, or freeze response, it'd be fight. that is to say, a lot of what manifests as anger or aggression is also partly fear.

here are some telltale signs, actually, that striker is being cautious or feeling fear!

rattling of the tail - this is a big one. he rattles as a warning, but that warning can come both as a response to anger and frustration AND a response to fear. it's his universal "you'd better back off" sign. because it's an involuntary reaction most of the time, he tends to always outwardly portray it as anger so he's not seen through.

hands on his weapons - it doesn't have to necessarily even be an outright instinctive "hand flies to gun" sort of thing. if striker is talking to someone and has his gun or his knife out casually, he's being cautious and IS somewhat afraid.

more volatile trigger finger - the more aggressive and violent he gets, the more scared he is of losing. in some situations he can come off as downright animalistic with his fervor, but this is more a desperate survival instinct than a show of rage or unfounded aggression. he tends to miss a lot more and get sloppier when he's caught unawares by fear, but most of the time a desperate situation will sharpen his senses.

cursing - he curses often anyway, but he'll get notably more vulgar when he's on edge.

themed headcanons. / accepting.

[scarlettlawyer]

A little something that I’ve already put up on AO3, and I’ll also post here.

Gen Words: 1451 Summary: An AU where something, or - someone important is missing. Title: $38

---

“My life is over…”

“Mr Butz, I don’t understand. All charges have been dropped. You’re free to go.”

“But… But my Cindy is gone, man! Gone forever!” Larry exclaimed miserably.

“I won you your innocence; your freedom. I would think that is at least something worthy of celebration,” the other man said wearily, raising his hand to his head which was covered in soft red hair.

“I s’pose, I guess. Thanks for that. That probably means… you’re my hero now or something, doesn’t it?” Larry wondered, misery clearing up abruptly. No doubt he was ready to go back to said misery in an instant if so inclined, though.

“…Let’s not get carried away. As your court-appointed lawyer, I was only doing my job,” the other man pointed out, giving a vague shrug.

“Well, anyway, it was really something. I don’t know how you managed to pull it off!” Larry said, putting on his most convincing grin. Then again, if Larry was being honest with himself, he hadn’t been paying attention for most of the trial and barely knew what had actually happened anyway. It was not only due to being distracted by his gloom over Cindy’s death and his own predicament; the trial had just been so very boring, as anything involving lawyers and courtrooms and what have you always were.

“The case was pretty easy to solve, so it’s not all that impressive. It doesn’t take an ace attorney to see all the things that were suspicious about it. All I did was point out the obvious, and that was enough,” the other man told him, voice much quieter and less enthusiastic than Larry’s own.

That was the other thing: the trial had been so hard to listen to, it was a wonder to Larry how anyone managed to focus on what was being said by his lawyer. He was so very soft-spoken as it was - he just didn’t have any flair at all. Not that the prosecutor had been especially exciting either (what had his name been? Pan?), but at least the guy knew how to make himself heard when it mattered. Then again, he’d received a Not Guilty verdict, so he couldn’t exactly complain too much, right?

“Thanks anyway though, you wanna get some food or something? I could use a friend right now.” Larry’s voice had started to tremble towards the end of saying that. How was it so easy for him to have had so many girlfriends but no real friends? There was no one he’d been able to turn to upon being arrested; it wasn’t like he knew anyone who would be able to offer him any sort of legal advice anyway. Or…

Except…

A vague memory tugged at him.

There had been someone, once. A real friend AND someone who could give great legal advice.

But that had been so long ago. It felt like he hadn’t even thought about that guy in years now. It took his brain a moment to dust off some old memories and conjure up a name – sharp, like an edge… Edgey! That kid he knew back in grade school, when he was a kid too.

But who knew where that guy was these days? At least one thing was for certain: he was surely out there somewhere being the amazing defense attorney he’d always wanted to be. Larry wished him all the best, wherever he was.

“Ah, I do make a note of not befriending my clients, or… former clients,” the defense attorney standing before Larry had told him apologetically, but by that point Larry was far beyond listening, lost in his own little world, reflecting on childhood memories.

The redhead stood there awkwardly, awaiting some kind of reply or acknowledgement that wasn’t forthcoming. “Well… I will leave you to it then, Mr Butz. I believe you have my card, and I will contact you if anything further is required. Have a good day.”

And with that, the man strode off, and Larry only snapped out of his thoughts just in time to see him walking away.

***

He and Edgey, now they’d been quite the unlikely pair. Whoever thought that the smartest kid in class with the best grades and the kid with the lowest grades would forge their own unique and distinctive friendship? It was always just the two of them. They’d never been particularly close, but they’d been close enough. Edgeworth had always had a bit of trouble fitting in and socialising with the others, and Larry, well, Larry was the odd one out too. The two of them got along with the other kids at times, but more often than not Larry always felt like he got shunned as the “loser” of the class. When looked at this way, it made sense that they should hang out with each other, if the rest of the class wasn’t so receptive.

Although, Edgey hadn’t been so interested in hanging out with anyone initially. He’d just warmed up over time, is all.

Larry still remembered stealing Edgey’s lunch money. Some people in class had grown a little suspicious, as Larry had been the only one to take that day off, but no one had ever been able to prove anything. Proof. That was something old Edgey had always droned on about.

“Even if someone seems incredibly guilty… you can’t convict them without any concrete evidence. You can’t just say they’re guilty just because you think they’re guilty. You need to prove it with evidence. That’s why defense attorneys like my dad are so important. Everyone deserves the right to a fair and just trial.”

Larry scratched the bridge of his nose. “So… If you thought I was guilty of something, but there was no proof I did it, would you defend me?”

And then Edgeworth, in all his youth, had smiled ever-so-slightly. “A lawyer is supposed to remain impartial when it comes to his client. His own feelings don’t matter. It’s still his job to defend his client, no matter what he thinks.”

“Imp-arshal? Do you even know what any of those kinda fancy words mean, or do you just remember by heart the stuff you read in those thick boring books of yours to repeat to others?”

But after that fateful day when Edgeworth’s money was stolen, something had become increasingly clear, but always left unspoken: Edgeworth knew. Or, at the very least, he suspected. He knew that Larry had taken the money meant for his lunches, and yet he had never confronted him about it, not once. If anything, he would insist that anyone else who would wish to cast aspersions on Larry required evidence to do so and that until such evidence came to light, further discussion on the matter was useless.

And after that, Larry couldn’t help but respect him.

It was clear that Edgeworth wasn’t happy about being robbed; he’d been far from pleased about the situation, so Larry just couldn’t understand it. Edgey had just been so steadfast in his principles – the idea that absolutely everyone should be held to the same standard, and could not be “convicted” without something concrete to back it up.

Larry had wronged this boy, and then he’d wanted to spend more time with him. Edgey had been so very cold and distant towards him at first. He kinda seemed a little bit like that with everyone, though, but Larry kept making an effort and it paid off in the end. Both boys were overall glad to have a real friend to call their own, someone who was not just a mere classmate. And he never did own up to stealing the money… But ultimately he probably didn’t need to. It would have only been confirming what Edgey already thought.

He felt bad, but something always held him back. What if the other students or the teacher found out? A bunch of little things like that nagged at him, and the matter was able to be mostly forgotten to everyone.

Their friendship had always been so very dysfunctional, too. It worked well enough, but it always felt like something was missing. Just the two of them.

They had a great few months, and then Edgey seemed to vanish just like that. He moved away. Larry didn’t know why. There was no way of knowing where he’d gone and no way of contacting him.

He was such a unique person that always stood out to him, however briefly he’d been in Larry’s life. He never could quite forget about him. He didn’t want to.

…If he ever did run into Edgey again, he’d have to finally return that stolen money, Larry decided.

He never did see Edgeworth again.

[ponyregrets]

requesting Alt-POV for Bellamy 'The First Time I Felt My Heart' :D

Original fic here, and alt-POV on AO3!

Given how much time Bellamy spends rethinking his proposal to Clarke Griffin, he wishes he'd put a little more thought into it to begin with. Not that he thinks it would have helped, exactly. Clarke didn't want to marry him, and still doesn't. And he still doesn't think she's the kind of woman who wants sweeping off her feet.

But he hadn't even quite realized, the first time he proposed, that he was going to do it. He'd liked her, right from the start, and he'd been aware that she was lovely and spirited and he liked talking to her. He'd even been aware he might bring up marriage, someday, if they both seemed amenable.

And then he'd seen her out riding, scowling and muttering as if she was rehearsing a fight she'd like to have later, and he'd been overcome with a sudden certainty. He wanted to marry her. He wanted it so much he could taste it.

And he'd decided the best way to deal with that was to make it seem as if he didn't want it at all.

He's not even convinced he was wrong, not exactly. If she'd wanted to marry him in the first place, he thinks she probably would have said yes to the proposal, so it doesn't matter in that sense. He doesn't think there's a way he could have asked that she would have agreed to, which is the most important thing.

But he thinks if she realized how he felt about her, she'd be a little more cautious with his heart.

Not, of course, that he expects her to never marry for his sake, or to place his feelings before hers. But he knows Clarke well enough to be sure that if she realized he loved her, she would be--considerate. But she doesn't seem to have any idea, and he has no interest in making things more awkward by telling her. And it would be an overall increase in awkwardness, if she knew. Of that, he is sure.

Still, there's plenty of awkwardness to go around already, which is probably why Monty comes to him and says, "I need your help with something."

He looks nervous, which is uncommon for him, and Bellamy cocks his head. "If you want my blessing before you propose to Miller, you know you have it."

He smiles, relaxes a little. "I do know that, so I'm not asking for it." But then the tension returns, almost at once. "It's actually Raven."

Since Finn came home and decided he was done with her, they've all been worried about Raven. She's stayed quiet about it, only telling Monty and Bellamy about what happened, and only the two of them because they happened to be around at the time. The word has been spreading slowly, carefully, her friends' desire to respect her wishes and keep it from erupting into a scandal at war with their desire to make sure everyone knows how awful Finn had been to her.

So he straightens himself, losing the teasing tone. "What happened?"

"Nothing, not like you're thinking. But--I heard a rumor that Finn has been sniffing around Clarke. I wasn't going to believe it, but I saw them the other day, and it does seem like he's trying to court her. I don't think she knows about him and Raven."

"No, I don't think so either." He rubs his face. "Did you talk to Raven?"

"Not yet. Honestly, I wanted to make you do it."

Bellamy snorts. "Thanks."

"You know Clarke better than I do," he says. "So--you should handle this."

"Again, thanks." He had known that Clarke was talking to Finn, but, as always, he hopes everyone he likes has better taste that to be interested in Finn Collins. Bellamy's never been terribly impressed with him, and he doesn't see why anyone else is either.

And he can admit that if Clarke wants to marry Finn Collins and not him, he'll be pretty upset about it. But he doubts she will, once she hears about Raven. Even if she likes him, Clarke doesn't seem like the type to ignore something like that.

"So--you'll talk to her?" Monty prompts.

"I'll talk to her," he says. "Thanks for letting me know." He offers a wry grin. "Why do intelligent women insist on thinking they should marry Finn Collins?"

"Better them than me," he says, and Bellamy laughs.

"If you ever leave Miller for Finn, we're going to have words."

"If I ever leave Miller for Finn, I'm going to deserve them. Thanks for handling this for me," he adds, and Bellamy shakes his head.

"You owe me one."

"Worth it," says Monty, and Bellamy has to agree. He's not looking forward to this one.

*

He finds Raven first. He knows she doesn't want to talk about it, but he doesn't know how to approach Clarke himself, not without feeling self-serving. Although he's sure Clarke will want to know about Raven and Finn's history, if he's the one who tells her, he feels as if the information is tainted.

If it comes from Raven, it's probably better.

She's at the smithy, working as usual when he arrives, and sometimes he can't help wishing the two of them wanted to marry. It would be nice, if things were so neat and tidy. But they'd tried a relationship, once, and found friendship was better for them.

And now he's in love with someone else, so it doesn't matter. It wouldn't be fair to her, even if she was interested.

"What," she says, flat.

"Have you told Clarke about Finn?" he asks, without preamble. From the hard set of her shoulders, he assumes she knows exactly why he's here already.

"Why would I?"

"If someone led me on for a year and then told me he wasn't interested anymore and moved on to someone else, I'd want to tell the other person about it," he says.

"You think so? Because I'm the one it happened to, and I don't want to tell anyone."

"Raven--"

"I don't want to talk about it," she snaps. "If you think Clarke needs to know, you can tell her your own damn self. It's none of my business what either of them does. He's not mine."

"I'm sorry," he finally says. "You're right. I have no idea how you're feeling or how bad it is for you. I just--I don't want him to get away with it. He doesn't get to do this to you and turn around and get Clarke. Not after that."

"You know she might not care, right?"

He has trouble believing it, but--maybe she'll want to hear Finn's side. Maybe a romantic enough declaration from him will win her over. "I know," he says.

"You ever ask her yourself?" she asks, her gaze calculating as she watches him.

For a second, he's tempted to pretend he doesn't know what she means. But he does, of course. "I did. She said no."

"Huh. Sorry," she adds. "I didn't know that."

He shrugs it off, hoping his unconcern seems genuine. "It was a while ago."

To his surprise, she smiles. "It was?"

"Six months or so, now."

"You ever try asking again?"

"She already said no once, Raven. If I keep asking, all I do is make things awkward." He swallows hard. "If she ever changes her mind, she can let me know."

"Does she know you didn't change your mind?" Raven shoots back, and it's a valid question, one he doesn't want to answer.

"Why would I have changed my mind?" he asks instead, and reaches over to give her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'm sorry Finn is a bastard," he adds.

"Me too," she says. "Sorry about Clarke."

"Like I said, long time ago." He makes himself smile. "I don't mind."

And it's mostly true, except for that his next step is still talking to Clarke, and that he's not looking forward to at all. He does believe, for the most part, that she won't be happy to learn this about Finn, but he also doesn't know what her reaction will be, if she'll be heartbroken or upset or betrayed. He doesn't want to know how much she cares.

He wishes it was Raven telling her, but he understands why she won't, and it still needs to happen. So it's his responsibility.

When he gets back to the Griffin farm, Clarke is at the table, working on the accounts, and he sits down across from her. It's a common enough occurrence that she doesn't even look up, just says, "Bellamy."

"Finn Collins," he says.

"Finn Collins," she agrees, putting the pen down and looking expectantly at him. "I assume you know him. He knew you."

It feels like a trap. "Of course I know him."

"And?"

He decided the best plan was to be direct and honest; if the facts don't change her mind, he doubts anything else will. "When he left, he was engaged to Raven," he says. "And as far as any of us knew, he was planning to still be engaged to Raven when he got back."

He watches her carefully, and while it's hard to read her emotions, it's obvious she's not pleased by the information.

Still, her voice is cool when she asks, "What happened?"

"He thought it would be impolite to break it off in a letter. So he kept writing to her for the year he was gone. The last letter she got, he said he couldn't wait to see her and he loved her, and then he came back and told her he thought they were different people who needed different things. And apparently what he thinks he needs is you. It's your decision, obviously," he adds, feeling just a little too bitter for his own comfort and wanting to rein it in. "The engagement is over and he's unattached. There's nothing improper about--"

She's shaking her head. "Bellamy, stop. I had no idea."

He exhales. "I know.I tried to get Raven to tell you, but--she said it wasn't her business what he does now." For once, her reaction is obvious, discomfort written all over her face, and he nearly reaches out. "You didn't know. I would have told you sooner, but--I didn't know you were spending time with him until recently."

There's a smile playing around her lips, fond, and at least she's not upset with him. "I was waiting for your commentary. What would you have told me if he hadn't been engaged to Raven?"

"The same thing I told Raven when she agreed to marry him. If he makes you happy, I'm happy for you, but--I think you could do better, Clarke."

It's not really true, of course. If not for Raven, he probably would have kept his mouth shut unless she asked, worried about sabotaging her for his own selfish reasons. He wouldn't have wanted her to think that he had any other motives.

But she smiles, so it was the right answer. "He doesn't sound like an improvement on being alone. Thank you," she adds. "For telling me."

"That's it?" he can't help asking. After all the stress this has caused him, it seems as if there should be more too it.

Clarke just looks amused. "What do you mean?"

"You're just going to break it off?"

"There isn't really much to break off," she says, with a shrug. "I'd been seeing him sometimes. I'll probably still see him sometimes. But--he hurt Raven, and I like Raven. And he treated her poorly, and I wouldn't want to be with a man who treated me poorly. So, yes. I'm not going to encourage him. I did tell you I'm not desperate for a marriage, Bellamy," she teases. "I'm still not desperate."

"Oh." It's the kind of thing he'd like to press her on, but he doesn't know how. She's so casual talking about it, it feel as if she should just be able to ask. To find out exactly what she wants, and if he could ever be that. But he doesn't really want to hear that she'd have to be desperate to marry him. And he doesn't really want her to stop feeling so easy around him. "Well, I should--" He rubs the back of his neck, not sure what to say. "I should go check on the sheep," he settles on.

At least Clarke smiles, instead of pressing him. "You should. And if you find out I'm associating with anyone else you dislike, you should tell me that too."

"I think you can always trust me to give you my honest opinions," he says, dry, and she laughs.

"I certainly can." She turns back to the accounts, deliberate. "Say hello to the sheep for me."

Outside, he leans against the wall, letting out a long breath. It doesn't even make sense, that his heart his racing, that he's still so nervous about it. It went well, and Clarke isn't getting married.

Not yet, anyway.

"Don't be an idiot," he tells himself, firm.

And then he goes to check on the sheep.

*

Roan Winters has been a source of mild stress for him since Clarke came to Arcadia, since before he even proposed himself. In fact, it was an unfamiliar jealousy of Roan that made him realize his first interest in her, a bristling at the two of them walking together that he never felt when Roan spoke with Raven or Harper or any of the other women of the town. And it's never quite improved, not in all these months, because Clarke and Roan have persisted in being friends, and he can't convince himself it doesn't mean anything.

When he's trying to feel optimistic, he tells himself Roan could have proposed and been turned down, the same as he was. Which then makes him feel like an awful person, because he should want Clarke to be happy. He should want her to marry Roan and start a family. He shouldn't be praying she's turned down every prospect she has.

"I should probably just move to California," he tells Miller.

Miller thinks it over. "You don't think maybe she changed her mind? About marrying you."

"If she changed her mind, she'd tell me, wouldn't she?"

"I don't know. This is you we're talking about."

He scowls. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Miller considers. "It means you don't like showing you're hurt. I get it, don't get me wrong, but I never got the impression Clarke thought you cared much that she wasn't marrying you."

"I don't," he says, petulant, and Miller rolls his eyes.

"This is what I'm talking about. She broke your heart."

"Not that much. Really," he adds. "It's not her turning me down that's the problem. But I'm going to have trouble watching Roan Winters court and marry her. Which--that's not her fault. So I should just leave."

"You shouldn't leave before you talk to her," says Miller, and it's probably true. There's no reason to be so sure she'll marry Roan, anyway. He can ask, but she might not say yes. "I know you love being stupidly dramatic, but--"

"You'd miss me," Bellamy says. "It's fine. I get it. I'd miss me too."

"I'm just saying, you talk to her, maybe she'll say she feels the same way, and you could actually be happy. Instead of just a pain in my ass."

"Love you too," he says. But Miller does look worried, so he tries out a smile. "I'll talk to her."

*

"Roan?" he asks her, the next day. It was sufficient for Finn, so he assumes it will do for Roan as well.

His heart plummets at the face she makes. "What's wrong with Roan? And keep in mind, he's one person I grew up with, not you," she adds, like a warning. "So I'm the expert."

"And you like him," he says.

"I do. He's a good man. A bit stubborn and arrogant and pigheaded sometimes, but I could say the same of you. Or myself. Most people I like. And I do like him," she says, her voice edged with steel. He doesn't really have anything bad to say about Roan, not like he did Finn, but apparently she's not interested in hearing it anyway.

She's the expert, and her mind is made up.

"All right," he says.

She frowns. "Really?"

"Sorry, did you want me to argue?"

"A little bit," she says, smiling. "I'm used to arguing with you."

He shrugs. "I like him fine. I was just--asking."

"Your concern is appreciated," she says. "But as I said, he's one person I actually do know better than you do. We've been friends for a long time."

He nods. "So, I won't argue."

And he won't. But he doesn't think he can stay, either.

*

Echo's the one who tells him about the impending engagement, in a casual, easy way that suggests she doesn't think he'll care. They're both at the general store, picking up supplies, and she says, "Roan finally bought a ring."

His whole body goes cold. "An engagement ring?"

She rolls her eyes. "What other kind of ring would he be buying? When's the big day?" she adds, and Bellamy turns to see Roan behind them, smirking a little. Bellamy's not sure he's ever seen Roan not smirking a little.

"The day after tomorrow," he says. "I'd been meaning to invite you, Bellamy."

"That's awfully soon for a wedding," he says, keeping his voice even. "And I assume Clarke would have mentioned it."

Echo frowns, but Roan's smile only widens. "Not to the wedding. Not yet. I'm having a ball, I'm planning to propose there. You're of course welcome to join us."

Punching him would be inappropriate; it's not his fault. If Clarke prefers him, that's just how it is.

Still, he doesn't have to go to the party where the proposal will happen. There are limits to the amount of pain he's interested in experiencing in his life, and that is probably a hard limit.

"I appreciate the invitation," he says. "I'm not much for parties."

"I understand," Roan agrees. "But I'll still hope to see you there."

His plan for that evening is, in all honesty, packing up his things to move to California. Which does, as Miller said, feel a little dramatic, but--he's wanted to move for a long time. And he doesn't have to stay forever. He just has to stay long enough to forget his feelings for Clarke. He'll make sure his sister is doing well, see California, and then come back and not care at all how many children Clarke and Roan have had.

That's what he's telling himself when Clarke says, "You're coming tonight, aren't you?"

He looks up from the lamb he's inspecting, frowning at her. The wind is tangling the loose strands of her hair, and her smile is clear and uncomplicated.

He can't stay for this. He wishes he could, but he can't.

"To Roan's?" he asks. "No."

"Really? Why not?"

It's tempting to tell her the truth now, before the proposal. To lay out exactly how he feels, exactly how much he wants her. He loved her then, and he loves her now, and he thought it would stop, but every day he just loves her more. He can't help it.

"You didn't really think I liked parties, did you?" he asks instead. "I thought that was obvious."

"You don't have to like parties to come to a party."

"Oh, well. When you put it like that, it makes perfect sense," he says, and she shakes her head.

"You know what I mean."

"Honestly, I don't."

"You don't have anything else to do tonight, do you? You're just going to be at home alone if you don't come."

"You make that sound like a bad thing. That sounds like a huge improvement to me."

"You work too hard. You need a break."

"Being at home alone is a break." But she's watching him with something like concern in her eyes, as if she really thinks that going to a ball will improve his life. As if she's spends a great deal of time fretting about the quality of his life. "You really want me there?" he finally asks.

"Of course I do," she says, without hesitation.

It probably won't be that much worse to witness it. He's going to find out anyway. Roan won't do it in front of all of them. If he doesn't go tonight, he'll just have to deal with Clarke showing off her ring in the morning. At least at the party, he'll be part of the crowd.

And she looks so hopeful.

He crosses his arms. "Fine. But I'm not going to stay long."

Her smile is like the sun, and he has to look away. "I wasn't expecting you to, no," she says, and at least there's that.

*

Clarke's cheerful as they walk over, but if she has any idea that Roan is planning to propose, she shows no sign of it. She talks about helping Raven find a dress and how she's going to make Monty dance with her.

"And you, of course."

"I'll be happy to dance with Monty," he says, and she grins.

"That's exactly what I meant, obviously."

"Obviously. I don't dance, Clarke. But you'll have better partners to chose from, don't worry."

"I'd like to dance with you," she says, and this is really the problem, he thinks. Even if she doesn't marry Roan, she's always going to be like this. She's always going to like Bellamy just enough to rip his heart out, and that's just bad luck, for him. So even if she's not getting married, he can't stay here. Even if she turns Roan down, he's going to leave.

It is a nice party, aside from the lump that feels like lead in the pit of his stomach. Clarke is a better dancer than he expected, and she seems to enjoy it too. She doesn't limit herself to Roan either; she makes Monty dance with her, as promised, and Jasper, and when she offers her hand to him, he lets himself take it.

"This is the only time I'm doing this," he tells her, settling one hand on her shoulder and the other on her waist.

"Thank you for doing it once, then." She smiles as he starts to lead. "You're not bad at it or anything."

"I can be good at things I don't like."

"You're good at everything."

He shakes his head. "That's definitely not true."

"Everything I've ever seen you do," she says, and he bites back on pointing out how awful he was at proposing to her.

It's a nice dance, after all; he doesn't want to ruin it.

Roan takes her after he lets her go, and she says she'll grab him for another one, later.

"Definitely not," he tells her, and goes to sulk by the refreshments with Miller.

When he realizes he has to go, Roan and Clarke are dancing again. It's nothing special, nothing earth-shattering, nothing worse than Roan leaning in to speak with Clarke, low, and the problem is really the same thing it's been this whole time, which is that this is about as well as things could realistically go for him, and it's still too much for him to deal with.

"I've got to go," he tells Miller, low, and Miller looks him up and down.

"Home or to California?"

"Both," he admits, and Miller nods.

"Let me know if you need help."

He smiles. "Will do."

It's a nice enough night, warm and clear, the moon nearly full and the sky full of stars. He picks out constellations as he walks, and tries to decide if he's really doing the right thing.

Maybe if she doesn't accept Roan's proposal, he can ask her what would make her marry. If there's any way she might ever want to marry someone like him. And then, if there isn't--that's when he leaves.

It's about the best he can do. And if he's being too dramatic about it, he thinks he's earned it. He's spent months trying to pretend he's fine, and now it's all going to explode in a horrible mess.

He's just not expecting it to happen until tomorrow.

The sound of the door startles him out of his suitcase. He's expecting Miller, maybe Raven, possibly Echo. Not Clarke. Clarke's busy getting engaged, so there's no reason at all for her to be in his doorway, frowning at him in utter confusion.

Still, there she is.

"Are you packing?" she demands.

It's too late and he's too raw to really do anything but have the fight. He doesn't know why she's here, but it was coming one way or another, so--tonight it is.

He doesn't look up when he says, "You and Roan can handle the farm. So I can go to California and--"

Her voice is oddly gentle, and that's what gets his attention. "Bellamy. Roan is proposing to Raven."

For a second, he has no idea what to think. His mind rearranges itself, remembers seeing Clarke with Roan, remembers that Raven was with them. He'd thought it was a little, odd, but he'd thought maybe the Finn thing had brought her and Clarke closer together. That they were better friends now. It made sense to him.

"Raven," he breathes.

"I thought you knew," she says, and she sounds genuinely guilty, for all she didn't do anything. She never said a word about being interested in Roan. "I didn't know you--"

"It doesn't matter," he tells her, because it doesn't. He still can't do this. He still has to leave, because Clarke doesn't love him. She's going to marry someone else, someday. And he's going to be happy for her. He'll just be happy from a distance. "You can hire Miller for a foreman," he goes on, not looking at her. "He'll do just as well as I do, and probably be less trouble."

Clarke huffs. "I don't want Miller."

And that's the whole fucking problem, right there. "I'm getting tired of living my life based on what you want, Clarke," he snaps.

If she feels bad, she doesn't show it. Her eyes flash, and she sounds just as frustrated as he feels when she shouts, "You never told me what you wanted!"

"You're right," he snarls. It's not like he hasn't been kicking himself about it for months, not like he doesn't know that he could have been clearer. That he let her misunderstand him, and he's been too stubborn and too scared to just ask her. "I fucking wish I had, okay?" he tells her, advancing with no clear plan except that he needs to tell her, that he wants her to understand. "I wish I'd gotten down on one knee and--"

And suddenly, she's kissing him.

It makes sense to him in fragments: first, the feel of her hands in the front of his jacket, pulling the material taut, then the smell of her, familiar, but overwhelming this close, the feel of her pressed up against him, and then, at last, the feel of her lips, the firm press of her mouth, neither hesitant nor inexperienced and so sure.

It's another second after that before he can make himself move, before the shock wears off, but as soon as he does he can feel her smile, for just a second, before she opens for him, before she slides her arms around him and pulls him close and throws herself into the kiss, just as hungry and desperate as he is.

It's not all he's been thinking about for months; he's been thinking about so much more than this, about the rest of his life, but--its a good start. He thinks he could kiss her forever.

She's the one who's impatient, apparently, undoing the tie on her dress herself, and it's honestly so ridiculous he has to laugh. He was ready to pick up his entire life and move to California to get over her, and she's kissing him like all she wants to do is drag him to his bed and never leave it.

"Clarke," he says helplessly. He can't stop staring at her, flushed and gorgeous, mouth red, in his arms. She fits so perfectly against him.

"I thought you wanted a wife." She sounds as if she knows how absurd the sentiment is, but he does understand. He's at the age where it's expected that he'll find a wife, and he acted as if she'd do as well as anyone.

He didn't want her to think it was personal, and it's about time for him to clear it up.

"I did," he tells her, leaning in close. "I do, more every day. I want you."

Her smile is wry. "You could have just said that."

Part of him wants to point out that he proposed, but she knows that. And he does understand what she means. "I told you I wouldn't ask you to marry me again," he points out instead, and from the way her face softens, he knows she understands too.

"Bellamy," she says, like she's reminding herself he's there.

"Clarke," he agrees, kissing her jaw, her neck. He wants to find every spot she likes to be touched. He can't wait to know every inch of her. Because she's his, surely. She feels the same way he does.

"Will you marry me?"

He jerks up to find her smiling, and his own smile is half a laugh. It's just--it's so much better than he thought it could be. He'd been so sure she'd break his heart the rest of the way. He'd been so ready for it.

He brushes a few stray hairs off her forehead. "You're not going to get down on one knee?"

"Is this not romantic enough for you?"

She's grinning, and he can't resist kissing her again. He can't quite get over how easy it is, how she melts into him, how sure he is that she's going to follow him into his bedroom and spend the night with him. It's not just that she's going to marry him--that she proposed--but that she's, well--

She's not desperate for a husband. She's desperate to have him.

"It's perfect," he tells her, when he pulls back. "Besides," he can't help teasing, "I don't think you need any more proposals."

She laughs. "No. This can be the last one." Her fingers find the lapels of his jacket again, tugging gently. "You aren't going to send me home, are you?"

"Hm?"

"Tonight. Please don't tell me you have romantic beliefs about the wedding night."

He laughs. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not very good at sending you away. If you want to stay--"

"I'm never going to want to leave," she tells him. She wets her lips, sobering suddenly. "I am sorry," she admits, soft. "I didn't know--I really thought you didn't care."

He gives her half a smile, feeling embarrassed. "That's what I wanted you to think," he admits. "I thought you'd--it was bad enough when you told me you wouldn't marry me, I didn't need you to know I was in love with you on top of that."

"I would have been nicer if I knew!" she protests.

That makes him laugh. "I didn't need you feeling sorry for me. You said you weren't going to marry me no matter what, so--"

"I was wrong," she says. "I can't wait to marry you." Before he can respond, she steps out of his arms, taking his hand instead. "I don't actually know where your bedroom is. Show me?"

He kisses her temple, squeezes her hand, feels positively stupid with happiness. "Of course," he says. "Right this way."

*

"I think this is one time you're going to have to dance with me. It's expected."

Bellamy laughs, leans over to press his lips against his wife's hair. She got it done in an elaborate crown of braids, and he's looking forward to taking it down when they're home almost as much as he's enjoying looking at her now.

He's not sure his wedding is actually better than the day Clarke asked him to marry her, but he doesn't see any reason to pit his happy memories against each other.

All the memories are happy right now, anyway. They put off the wedding long enough that Octavia could come back, and all his favorite people are here to celebrate his marriage to the woman he loves. They had a small, quiet ceremony, a nice meal, and now the dance floor is ready and the musicians are warming up.

"I don't actually mind dancing with you," he tells her, smiling.

"No?"

"Not if you want to." He leans in to press his mouth to hers. "Not if I get to keep you."

"You do. I'm all yours."

"I know." When he offers his hand, she takes it, and he can feel the ring on her finger. "So I can dance."

"As long as you're not always doing what I want," she teases, and he kisses her again.

"Trust me," he says, warm against her mouth. "This is exactly what I want."