#i laughed when i saw one of my first sentences was just bellamy frowns | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

topazy · 3 years

Text

Silent bloom

Pairings: Bellamy Blake/reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and vomit

Chapter: 2.04

You sat inside the commander's tent shaking, as you stared at the blood on your hands. Raven’s scream echoes in your ears.

Clarke sat down beside you, "Y/N … I don’t know what to say."

You began to frantically wipe the blood off, rubbing your hands against your trousers until Abby and Kane entered. Abby immediately pulled her daughter in for a hug.

Clarke stepped back from her mom and looked at you sympathetically. "They would have tortured him. You did what you thought was right."

"What did I do?" You sobbed.

Before Clarke had a chance to say anything else, Gustus entered. "The commander will talk now."

"Blood has answered blood." Lexa said, stepping forward. "Some on my side say that's not enough; they want the murderer to suffer as our tradition demands. But they do not know that your suffering will be worse. What you did tonight will haunt you until the end of your days. Still, there will be restitution. The body will be given to Tondc. The murdedered and the murderer will be joined by fire. Only then can we have peace."

Kane shook his head, "No, no, we've done enough. The boy should be buried by his own people-"

"Enough? We were owed the pain of 18 deaths, we were owed the righteous kill my village deserves justice." Indra spat.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You kept thinking of the last real conversation you had with Finn. His voice was so clear inside your mind, he could have been standing beside you.

‘I was scared... when you disappeared. I thought I’d never get the chance to say I’m sorry, and I needed you to know that I love you.’

Why didn’t you see the signs then? He was saying goodbye. Thinking back, you knew Finn must have already made his mind up to hand himself in.

It was all too much for you. You jumped up and ran outside the tent to throw up, ignoring the dirty looks you were getting. Nobody could hate you more than you hated yourself at that moment. Once you had composed yourself, you noticed Raven crying over Finn’s body, and slowly made your way over to her.

"Go away."

"Raven," you sobbed. "I'm sorry."

"I said go away!"

The brunette couldn’t even look at you, and you didn’t blame her. "I’m so sorry. They were going to torture him. I couldn’t let him suffer."

"He loved you! He loved you, and this is how you repaid him!" Raven eventually lifted her head to look at you. "He was the only family I have, and he’s dead because of you."

Hearing the words coming from her mouth made your body physically ache.

Clarke placed her hand on your shoulder as she stood beside you. "The commander had now agreed to help us," she said quietly before facing Raven. "I know how hard this must be for you, but I'm leaving with the Grounders and I need you to work on the radio."

The brunette stood up and glared at you. "You agreed to this? Is that why you killed him? For some deal?"

"What? No," you pleaded. "I just … I couldn’t let him suffer."

"We're taking him back to the village where the massacre took place. There's a death ritual." Clarke cleared her throat. "It's the only way to get our people out of Mount Weather."

As the grounders began to move Finn’s body, you jumped back when you saw his eyes open wide. You rubbed at your eyes and then they were closed again. You were going insane.

"Daisy?"

You turned to face Clarke. You knew by the look on her face that whatever she was about to say wasn’t good. But then again, things couldn’t get any worse. "What’s going on?"

"I think you should stay."

"Wait … Have you decided that I'm going to stay here as some kind of punishment?"

The blonde let out a sigh. "No. Look, Daisy, I’d be lying if I said the thought of doing what you did didn’t cross my mind. I understand it, I really do."

"But?"

"I spoke to my mom and she agreed it would be for the best. A lot of the grounders still blame you for what Finn did, and now-"

You finished the sentence for her, "now our own people hate me."

"I can walk you back to camp before I go? I don’t think you should go back alone."

You declined Clarke’s offer. "It’s fine, thanks though."

If anything happened to you, you’d deserve it anyway.

—

"I know why you're hiding."

You glanced up at Murphy as he sat down beside you. You had been hiding out in your room since you thought Finn was sitting across you in the canteen. He was everywhere. Screaming at your dead friend and telling him to leave you alone definitely drew some unwanted attention.

Shrugging, you looked away from him, "I don’t know what you mean."

"When the grounders first took me … no, actually even before that. When I was banished and alone, I used to see her while wandering the forest."

You finally turned to face him. He looked so broken compared to his usual smugness. "Charlotte?"

Murphy nodded.

"I see Finn everywhere I look. A part of me is glad that I’m seeing him; it’s keeping him alive." You stopped talking when you saw the look on Murphy’s face.

After a few moments of silence, you let out a laugh. "Why are you here?"

"Well, the council decided to send a bunch of teenagers to earth-"

You let out a soft laugh. "Don’t be a smartass. I meant in my room, not on earth."

He shrugged. "Like I said, I know how it feels."

You gripped your knees into your chest tighter as you let out a shaky breath. Never in a million years did you think John Murphy would be the only person able to comfort you.

"Why did you come back here? I thought you would have stayed with Finn’s body."

"Clarke and Abby didn’t want me to," Murphy frowned, letting out a scoffing noise. "It would have been more difficult to get the deal to run smoothly with me there, and I think they are right." Raven would have been so consumed by anger towards you that she wouldn’t have been able to focus on the radios. "I just wish I’d gotten to see Octavia before she left."

But not Bellamy. You wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye.

"You know, I actually wish the mountain men took me instead of the grounders," you sighed. "Finn would be alive, and I wouldn’t have destroyed Raven."

"You're wrong," he replies. "Finn would still have needed to pay the price for what he did. We all do eventually. But one thing would have been different."

"What?" You asked.

"Raven might have traded me. You think you destroyed her? I shot her. I’m the reason she almost died."

"Was it an accident?"

Murphy frowned, "Of course it was."

You let your legs go straight because you're feeling them start to cramp. "You shouldn’t punish yourself for it; what’s done is done."

"You're such a hypocrite!"

"No I’m not!" You yelled back. "You didn’t mean to hurt her, I meant to kill Finn. I meant to kill my best friend." Shaking your head, you stood up. "Thanks for the company, but I need some air."

—

His blood on the ground was still surprisingly fresh looking.

I’m so sorry Finn.

The whole area seemed eerily quiet now that all the grounders had packed up and gone. It was as if nothing happened.

Sighing, you placed your hand against your chest, which now felt bare. You’d lost the daisy necklace that Finn made you years ago, and without it you felt naked.

How would you ever move on from this? You would need to eventually. It would be difficult, but Monty and Jasper still need your help. You would need to push your heartache to one side until your friends were safe.

Hearing a rustling sound, you glanced over your shoulder. Shit. You were stupid to think it was safe to leave camp yourself. Quickly, you started to run towards camp Jaha when a cloud of thick smoke appeared around you. It wasn’t acid fog, it was something else. It was thick, red, and caused you to choke.

—

"Y/N?"

You blinked a few times as your eyes adjusted to the harsh light. You tried to sit up but were unable to. Fuck. White leather straps covering your wrists attach you to a bed. You gave up fighting against the restrictions. You looked to your left and recognized the blonde in the bed next to you.

"Harper?"

Her hazel eyes were now bloodshot red, and her face was puffy from crying so much. "There’s no point fighting, it just makes it worse."

You took in the rest of the room. It looked like a hospital, judging by all the monitors and IV drips. "Mountain men?" Harper nodded. You looked at her worried, "What do they want with us?"

"Our bone marrow."

#the 100 #bellamy blake #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fandom #John Murphy #John Murphy x reader #John Murphy x you #Clarke Griffin #abby griffin #heda lexa #lexa the 100 #bellamy blake x reader #Bellamy Blake x you #slow romance #slow burn #harper mcintyre #Harper the 100 #mountain men #grounders

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heartbreakgrill · 4 years

Text

Finally; Monty Green (The 100)

a/n: i can’t stick to one fandom. i write for whatever my hyperfixations are based on. this month, it’s the 100.

description: friends to lovers, giving each other things you like idk

You sighed at the warm breeze wafting through the open door to the supply room. The Rovers had left a while ago, out on some mission surveying the land. You were going through the boxes of books Gina was slowly collecting for you from Mount Weather. You were a teacher’s apprentice on the ship before you were imprisoned for stealing medicine. Now that safety and immunity was granted in the form of Arkadia, you were back under the wing of Matthew Gunner. There weren’t many kids left, but they still needed taught.

Jasper, who wasn’t allowed out on missions yet, lazily worked beside you. You had forced him to help you, seeing as he had nothing else to do but drink all day. Music played from the speaker they had found in Mount Weather, at a soft volume after you forced him to turn it down. He needed a lot of forcing these days.

Jasper had had a soft spot in his heart for you since you were introduced to him and Monty when the drop ship first landed three months ago. The three of you got along well and you had been roped into their’s and Clarke’s reckless gang. After recovering from your sustained injuries in Arkadia, you decided against being involved in those antics. You finally safety and you didn’t want to experience near-death experiences willingly.

Jasper, humming and flipping through a picture book, was sat beside your seat at the steel table. You set another book on the shelf and went back to said-seat.

“How long you gonna make me do this today?” Jasper handed you a book.

“You have legs, Jasper,” you hissed and stood to put it on the shelf. You decided to just stand from now on. “And, I’ll make you stay here until you tell me one thing that made you happy yesterday.”

Jasper threw his head back and a guttural groan resounded from his hollow cheeks, “God, stop talking to Monty about my feelings.”

“Your feelings need to be talked about,” you insisted. “Plus, gratitude exercises are good for healing trauma.”

Jasper sassed, “Trauma? Oh, you mean when Monty and Clarke murdered my girlfriend and her people?”

You had never played into his pity party, always biting back with an equal level of sass. “Yeah, that trauma.”

Jasper opened his mouth to respond when the humming sound of a Rover cut him off. You both watched as Monty, Bellamy, Raven, and Miller stepped out of the parked vehicle. Octavia tied her horse up outside before strutting past everyone, probably on her way to find Lincoln.

Raven limped over to you, a wide smile on her face. “Anything interesting?”

The others, except for Miller, slowly followed her. You shook your head, “It’s been mostly textbooks because they started itching at the classrooms.”

You shuffled through the pile you created of books you thought your friends might like. “Oh! Yes, Bellamy, I found a copy of Greek tragedies.”

You handed him the thick novel and his face lit up. He rounded the table to give you a tight hug, “Thank you so much. I just finished the Iliad and was hoping you had something new.”

“Of course,” you grinned up at him. He stalked off to find his girlfriend as Jasper snuck away, thinking he was off duty. Monty sat in Jasper’s empty seat and Raven took yours.

“Raven, here’s a textbook with a bunch of computer coding bullcrap that I genuinely don’t understand. Thought you might like to get into that more,” you used both hands to give her this heavy book.

She, much like Bellamy, lit up. She opened her arms, wide, and you came around to hug her. “I’m gonna go get changed and crack this bad boy open. See you guys at dinner.”

You turned to Monty, who you were closer to now. Both, literally and figuratively. Back in Mount Weather, the two of you had grown a bond that tightened whenever he saved you from getting killed by the bone marrow extractions. You were weak and hurt and he comforted you.

“Anything for me?” He rested his chin in his palm, watching you as your hands reached for the thinning pile.

You nodded and slid into the seat beside him. Your knees touched his as you turned towards him. “This ones about Aerospace engineering. You probably already know a lot about it, but the pictures are pretty.”

You thumbed through it and found a glossy photo of the galaxy. Monty was looking at you, but you didn’t notice, when he said, “It’s beautiful.”

“And then there’s this,” you closed the book and set a smaller one on top. The book was a sage green with leaves all over it. The title read, in big, white letters, “It’s 4:20 Somewhere.”

Monty mumbled the title beneath his breath and gasped. “You’re awful.”

“Hey, I’m not the stoner,” you teased, leaning in to catch his eyes.

Monty smiled, nose scrunching up as he tried to insult an angry expression. He reached for your waist, giving a gentle shove to your side. You slid across your seat slightly before respositioning yourself. You leaned into his hand, which was still hanging in the air, but the inexperienced flirter pulled away.

You frowned at his shyness, but shook off the yearning for more than gentle touches and shushed smiles. A beat of silence paused the conversation, then Monty jumped up with a gentle, “Oh! I just remmebered. I got you something, too.”

You turned in your seat and watched him jog back over to the Rover. He opened the side door and reached in, pulling out his bag. You met him at the Rover and he set his bag onto the hood. You leaned against the side, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

“What could you have possibly found out there in the wilderness,” you laughed at your own words.

Monty, who was digging in his bag, chuckled. “Just wait and- see!”

With his final, exclaimed word, he presented a rusted, golden necklace with the letter ‘M’ dangling from the chain. You turned deep red, your hands becoming clammy and heart jumped through your ribs.

“Monty, is-“ you cut yourself off, unable to form a comprehensive sentence. “That’s...”

Monty gently dropped the necklace into your hands. You eyes flickered up to him and then back down to the gift you were fingering. He was watching you intently, waiting for you to say something.

“Where did you get it?” You asked.

He shrugged, “We stopped at a trading post ask for directions and I saw the Grounder wearing it. Traded my rations and a belt for it.”

Your hand automatically slapped his arm, “Monty! You must be starving.”

He grabbed your hand before you could pull it away from his arm. “It was worth it. Here, let me put it on you.”

He turned you around by tugging on your arm. You handed him the necklace, gathered your hair into a make-shift ponytail, and waited. His nimble fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped the jewerly around your throat. The cold metal settled onto your chest and you turned back around.

You looked up at him, “See, there’s an M on this necklace. My name starts with a [idfk what your name starts with, fill in the blank].”

Your brow quirked at him and he turned sheepish. Monty glanced at his shoes, hands wringing against one another. “What ever could that mean?”

You smiled and touched his hand. He let go of himself and let your fingers move between his. Both of you looked up at the same time and your eyes bore into one another. You pressed forward and he stayed where he was. Your chest hit his and his free hand finally landed on your waist. You carefully grabbed the back of his neck, intertwining your hand into his hair.

“Please kiss me.”

“Yeah, okay, I probably should do that now,” he rambled on. He shut his mouth firmly, then caught your lips.

You heard a cheer resounding through the room and pulled your lips off of him. Monty and yourself looked over to the noise, watching as Jasper bounced up and down, a glass in his left hand. His other was shaking in the air, a wide grin on his face.

And he was looking at you.

“Finally!”

You blushed and shoved your head into Monty’s neck. He hugged you completely, chucking into your hair.

Finally.

#monty green #monty green x reader #monty x reader #Monty x y/n #Monty green x y/n #Jasper jordan #jasper jordan x reader #the 100 #Bellamy Blake #the 100 x reader #raven reyes #clarke griffin

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finnsgrin · 3 years

Text

Bellamy Blake - “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Part 2

Bellamy Blake x reader

From my Wattpad: inanoncriminalwayy

GIF: heartbellamy

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Word Count: 1,875

Published on: Friday, November 20, 2020

TW: None

Spoilers: None

Summary: S3

A/N: Much requested by my sister, who claimed that the ending of the first part was a cliffhanger. Enjoy. Also, I understand that Miller wasn't with Pike, but I forgot he wasn't when I wrote this, so for the sake of the story just pretend he is apjppsoeods

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

♡Masterlist♡

Part 1

Bellamy Blake

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Part 2

As if things couldn't get any worse, the moment you got to Harpers door, you remembered that she was out on a supply run with Octavia, leaving her door locked, and you stranded in the hallway with tears in your eyes.

"Damn." You cursed as you racked your brain for the key code.

"Need some help?" A familiar voice sounded behind you.

Monty stood in a guards uniform, the bulletproof material looking strange on him. Never in a million years would you have envisioned him in the guard. Let alone the bad part of the guard.

Anger swelled in you, and although you knew that Monty didn't directly take a role in Lincoln's murder, you still resented him for playing the part and sticking at his Moms side when he knew it was wrong.

"You here to kill me too?" You set down your bag, and stared him straight in the eyes.

Although he was at least a foot taller than you, he still backed up, and pity glistened in his eyes.

"(Y/N), I didn't mean to - ."

"You could have talked some sense into them, Monty!"

"I didn't have a choice!" Monty hissed.

You shook your head, picking up your bag with your few belongings.

"There's always a choice." You whispered as you made your way away from him before you did something you would regret.

Maybe with Kane or Abby as Chancellor, the rules would be different.

Scratch that.

They would definitely be different.

Curfew was 9 pm for every citizen of the Ark, excluding the guard, of course. If you were caught out after curfew, no matter the reason, you were shocklashed if you were over the age of 16.

This new rule, including the shorted curfew, and the extensive punishment were mandated by Pike.

Your eyes scoured the walls of the corridors for a clock, but they were empty. You could tell that curfew was approaching, because little to no people were in the halls, and those who were, were hurrying back to their assigned quarters.

Even if you turned back now, there was no guarantee that Harper was back yet, and there was no way in hell you were going back to your room with Bellamy.

In fact, maybe you would stay out in the halls on purpose. Maybe this would result in you getting shocklashed, and Bellamy would finally open his eyes.

Maybe Bellamy would even be the one to do it to you.

"Weren't you arrested in the first place for being out past curfew?"

Jasper startled you as he spoke, leaning against the frame of his door, bottle of moonshine in hand.

You eyed him.

"Weren't you arrested for stealing booze?" You sneered.

He only laughed, his words becoming more slurred as he downed another gulp of his drink.

"Weed, actually. And if it wasn't for... Monty. Neither of us would have been sent down here in the first place."

It was strange what all could change in the span of a few months.

Jasper and Monty used to be inseparable. They were practically brothers. No one could tear them apart.

But now, Jasper spoke Montys name with venom.

"Aren't you due back at the castle with the King?" Jasper waved his drink at the direction, referring to Bellamy.

"I-." Your words were cut short as Nathan Miller rounded the corner. His eyes widened as soon as he caught sight of the both of you.

"Are you trying to get yourselves killed?" He seethed, his eyes darting to the left and the right, breathing a silent sigh of relief as he came to the conclusion that he was the only guard in sight.

Jasper lowered his drink, scrunched up his nose, and appeared to be thinking hard.

"Is this a rhetorical question?" He mused.

Miller turned red in the face.

"I'm not joking around, Jasper. You're lucky it was me who found you, and not Hannah." Miller hissed, clearly not in a joking mood.

Jasper only rolled his eyes.

"Even if you do kill me, what would I end up losing?" Jasper took another drink.

"If you keep talking suicidal, you're gonna end up losing your booze." Miller said.

Jasper seemed to sober up at those words.

"Well, goodnight then." Jasper turned, but Miller stopped him.

"I can't let (Y/N) roam free, Jasper. She's gonna have to stay here tonight." Miller explained.

Jasper shrugged.

"Fine. But I'm not sharing any of my moonshine." He slurred as he walked into his flat.

Millers wrist watched beeped, indicating that it was 9 pm, curfew.

"Hey, I can stop by your dorm and let Bellamy know that-."

"You can leave, is what you can do." You sneered.

Miller blinked, startled by your use of words.

Before he could say anything to this, Hannah Green rounded the corner, and raised her eyebrows at the sight of you, God forbid, two inches outside of a dorm 1 minute past curfew.

Once she saw that you were talking to Miller, she sighed.

"I can let this slide, but just this once." She gave you a curt nod.

"Oh, will you?" You gave a mock squeal of gratitude, your smile sarcastic.

Hannah frowned.

"I don't like your tone, young lady." She said, her jaw taut.

"And I don't like your face, you power hungry bitch." You jeered.

Hannah gave a gasp of shock, and pulled out a notepad and pen from her pockets.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to write you up." She said.

You only laughed.

"For what? I didn't threaten you. I'm not even within slapping distance of you."

Her face grew a deep shade of scarlet.

"Is that a threat?" She spoke firmly.

"Do you want it to be?" You move forward, but Millers hands stopped you as he placed them firmly on your shoulders.

"(Y/N), enough," He pleaded, really not in the mood to arrest his friend tonight.

Hannah took a look at the door number of Jaspers dorm, and cleared her throat. Everyone knew Jaspers number. Everyone on the Ark had guided him home at least once when he was too drunk to walk properly.

"I'm going to let this go. I will assume that you are helping Jasper. But if you speak to me like that ever again, you can expect a night in lockup." Hannah held her nose high in the air as she strutted away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Miller lit into you.

"Are you stupid, (Y/N)?" He hissed.

"Are YOU stupid, Miller? You know what you're doing is wrong." You jeered.

Miller was not in the mood for anymore arguing tonight, so he just let out a defeated sigh, and massaged his temples.

"Have a goodnight, (Y/N)." He spoke softly as he walked away.

Bellamy was a mess. He reread the letter that was left for him over and over again until his eyes ached, and his heart couldn't take it anymore.

It had been hours, and he felt like a complete ass for letting you be gone this long.

Even if he went out into the halls without his guard uniform, he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't get in any trouble, being a member of the guard and all.

He opened the door, but before he left, he took the letter that you left him, and folded it neatly into a square so he could carry it with him in his pocket.

It felt strange not walking with you. Almost as if the silence was too loud.

He nearly ran into Monty as he booked it through the halls and around the corner.

"Bellamy, what's wrong? Why was (Y/N) at Harpers door crying?" Monty wondered.

"She's at Harpers?" Bellamys felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders. You were safe.

Monty shook his head.

"No, no. Harper wasn't home. I-I don't know where she is." Monty stuttered.

Bellamy took no more time in conversing, and continued to jog.

"Bellamy? What are you doing out? It's past midnight." Hannah stopped him, a smile on her face.

"My- my..."

What was he even supposed to call you now?

"(Y/N), (Y/L/N), have you seen her?" His voiced cracked pitifully at the end of his sentence.

Hannah's eyes softened.

"I was down at Jasper Jordan's place when curfew started. She was there." Hannah explained, pointing in the direction of which you were.

"Thank you." He nodded gratefully.

It would make sense that you were with Jasper.

Next to Harper, Jasper was your best friend. And you both had something to bond over.

The fact that someone you loved and cared for was killed by someone you loved and trusted...

How much deeper could a bond get?

When he got to Jaspers, the door was cracked open.

Bellamy frowned, and gave a knock.

"(Y/N)?" He loudly announced his arrival.

A groan could be be heard from inside.

A half asleep, not even ten percent conscious Jasper stumbled to the door.

"What do you want?" He growled.

"Jasper, I need to see (Y/N)." Bellamy pleaded.

Jasper moved out of the way, too exhausted for anymore conversing. He gestured widly to the couch in which you had been sleeping on no more than two hours ago.

But you weren't there.

In your place, was yet another note, announcing your departure to the woods where you planned to run away and live a life with Trikru, where you could be free.

All of the blood drained from Bellamys face, and he patted his pockets, cursing when he remembered he wasn't wearing his uniform and didn't have his walkie talkies.

He shoved this note hastily in his pocket, and sprinted out of the room, out into the entrance of Arkadia, where the night air was cool, and the lights bright.

He panicked, swiveling around frantically trying to imagine which direction you would go.

He caught sight of you a few hundred yards outside of the fence.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" He screamed.

You turned around, his name almost passing your lips.

The sound of a gunshot answered him.

The crickets ceased their chirps, and time itself seemed to stand still as Bellamy watched your body crumble to the ground.

The watchman who had shot you realized his mistake as soon as he heard Bellamy scream.

That wasn't a Grounder.

Guards moved out past the gate, to examine the corpse.

They say you move faster when your adrenaline is pumping.

But Bellamy couldn't move fast enough.

"Don't touch her! Don't touch her!" Bellamy cried as a guard bent over to pick you up.

Your face was forever frozen. Your eyes wide with regret and heartache. Your lips beginning to form Bellamys name.

Bellamy let out a wail. It was a familiar wail.

It was the sound Raven made when she watched Finn die.

It was the sound Octavia made when she watched Lincoln die.

But this wail was different in a few ways.

It was full of more regret.

More sorrow.

As Bellamy held your bleeding body in his arms, the paper of the notes you had left crinkled in his pockets.

Both of them goodbye notes.

And Bellamy whispered the words he never got to say.

"It's you. I choose you."

♡Masterlist♡

#the100 the100imagines the100xreader xreader xreaderimagines cwthe100 the100cw bellamyblake bellamyblakeimagines the100bellamy the1000bellamy

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bipercabeth · 4 years

Note

👀 anything + "does it still hurt to think about?"

(happy birthday alyssa i love u!!!)

this is a bellarke fic so let’s pretend it’s on my sideblog and call it a day. s7 compliant until 7x10. then i do what i want.

It all happens so fast.

Bellamy comes back, ragged and worse for wear but alive. He and Echo meet an abrupt, messy end Clarke doesn’t catch the details of. And somehow, inexplicably, Clarke ends up alone with Bellamy in Octavia’s quarters while the others recuperate.

Part of her longs to be with them—making plans, gathering information, maybe trying MCAP to crack Bellamy’s stubborn memories—but loyalty and guilt keep her rooted in place. It’s stupid to think she could’ve prevented Bellamy from being taken in the first place, but still. She should’ve been there. She should’ve known sooner.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Bellamy calls from the bathroom.

It earns a laugh in the way only Bellamy can. Laughter has been scarce lately. It always seems to be when they’re apart.

She pushes the door open and leans against the frame, making eye contact with Bellamy in the mirror. He’s frowning, running his fingers through the long beard he grew on Etherea. Clarke wonders how much time he’s lost. At least she knew the number of days she spent in Eden. It’s a cruel trick of the universe to steal more time after everything it’s put them through.

“How’d you know?” she asks.

He shrugs. “I still know you.”

He says it like it’s inevitable. This man has no memory of the past several months to years of his life, but he knows when Clarke Griffin is overthinking based on her silence alone.

“Can I ask you something?”

Clarke smiles. “Anything.”

He turns to her, scissors in hand. “Will you cut my hair?”

She takes in his unruly waves, which are nearly as long as her own. “I don’t know, I kind of like matching.”

“Just take the damn scissors, Princess.”

Clarke’s hand freezes, her fingers ghosting over Bellamy’s. It takes all she has to curb the shock from her face, but she doesn’t manage to suppress her smile. “Been a while since you called me that,” she says lightly. She drags a chair from the corner and motions for him to sit.

She busies herself ruffling his hair. “How short?”

“Like it was before?”

It makes sense, wanting to return to who he was and how he looked before this. It’s not Clarke’s favorite cut, but she can do it. She measures the length out with her fingers. “Here?”

“No, before. On Earth.” His voice is heavy with significance. Clarke learned long ago not to put words in Bellamy’s mouth, but she can almost hear him say with you at the end of that sentence.

She swallows. “I can do that.”

She works in comfortable silence, chopping off the longest parts before shaping up the rest. Bellamy’s gaze burns into her through the mirror, but she can’t bring herself to meet it. Regardless of how fun it would be to make fun of him with half his head shaggy, all Clarke can think about is how he’ll look when she’s done. The Bellamy she imagined for six years in Eden is about to be in front of her. That takes some priority.

Six years of cutting her own and Madi’s hair has made Clarke something of an expert. Before she knows it, Bellamy is halfway back to himself, save the beard.

It’s a bit shorter than before, she thinks as he looks in the mirror. Despite her experience, she hasn’t done a cut like this. A slight miscalculation meant she had to take in the sides a bit more than she’d have liked, but it works for him. She thinks most looks would, even the caveman thing he has going on on the lower half of his face. After all, it’s Bellamy.

Bellamy’s responding grin is somewhat hidden under the beard, but Clarke sees it in his eyes. He tips his head back against her chest as she fusses and fluffs the front with anxious hands. “Looks good, Princess.”

There he goes with that nickname again. This time Clarke can’t hide the way her hands still.

“You haven’t called me that in 131 years.”

Bellamy frowns, as if to protest, but quickly devolves into distress and confusion. “I don’t think that’s right. I think I called you that when I was... wherever I was.”

The amount of baggage to unpack in that statement alone almost shuts Clarke down. She can’t look at him.

Instead she moves to the medicine cabinet, distracting herself with the need to get rid of that horrific beard. “Does it still hurt to think about?”

“When I push too hard, yeah. Sometimes the memories are buried so deep it feels like someone is bashing against my skull. Sometimes I can feel them, even if I don’t know what they mean. I’m just drawn to certain things. I think that means they were important to me there.”

“Like what?”

“You.”

When Clarke’s breath stutters and she looks at Bellamy, she only finds quiet resolve.

“I may not remember it, but there’s no way I was stranded like that and didn’t think about you. And when I came through the Anomaly, that was the one thing that stayed with me. Just you.”

“I know how you feel. After Praimfaya...” Clarke feels her cheeks heat. “Well, you know how I got through it.”

The misery of all the times fate has ripped Bellamy away climbs in Clarke’s chest, propelling her back to the medicine cabinet where she finds shaving cream and a straight razor.

Bellamy’s face changes in an instant, morphing from something wistful and longing to his signature Big Brother face.

“Why is there a razor in my little sister’s room?”

Clarke simply smiles. “Little?”

“I don’t care how long she spent on Penance. She’s my baby sister,” he groans. “Besides. I could still be older.”

He moves to take the razor from Clarke, but she holds it close. “Can I?”

“I can shave myself, Clarke.”

“I know, but—” The misery climbs up her throat, now— “I thought I lost you.”

That softens him. He leans back and offers himself to her. “All yours.”

There isn’t much room for talking after that. Clarke wets his beard and rubs in some shaving cream, thankful for the towel she wrapped around him before she started this whole process. She doesn’t want to see him in the stiff Bardo robes or the parka he made himself on Etherea. Here, in the Henley she recognizes from before he left, he is almost her Bellamy again.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks as she lines up the blade with his sideburn.

“No,” she admits. “But I have steady hands.”

They’re less steady with body heat radiating in the space between Clarke’s body and Bellamy’s, but she won’t tell him that.

The first swipe is a series of careful tugs with her left hand, assisted by her right holding his skin. Each inch reveals constellations of the freckles she so dearly missed.

Clarke watches his face as she tosses the hair and wipes the blade. He meets her with unwavering trust as she brings the blade back to his skin, this time with more confidence. With each pass, the man she loves comes back to her.

Bellamy’s cheekbones are easy, all sharp lines and simple angles. It’s one thing to watch the freckles bloom on his cheeks and another entirely to feel his breath ghost her fingertips as she takes off his mustache. Her fingertip traces the scar on his lip without thought or caution. Her eyes follow.

Next comes the divot in his chin, freed at last. Clarke rests her thumb there to tilt his head back for the final strokes along his neck. He’s all trust in her gentle hands. He always has been. It becomes them, same as love.

Love lives in Clarke’s hands as she holds his neck, feeling his muscles jump with anticipation. They have never let themselves get this close, and now she understands why. Clarke has been so strong for so long, but Bellamy is her undoing.

“All done,” she breathes.

He sits up, but Clarke is frozen in place. Her blade hovers near Bellamy’s throat while her hand cups the other side. A single drop of blood gathers where she nicked his upper lip earlier. She has the ridiculous urge to kiss it away.

“Been a while since I saw you bleed,” is all she can say.

His breath is warm on her lips. “I don’t think it’s been a while since I bled.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to patch you up.”

“You were,” he assures her.

“Bellamy, I...”

“Yeah,” he eases the razor away and lets it clatter to the ground. “Me too.”

The dam breaks, unleashing a flood of emotions Clarke never dreamed she would allow to surface. Bellamy’s hand tangles in her hair, and it’s unclear who pulls the other in first, but that doesn’t matter because his lips are on hers after centuries of waiting. She throws a leg over his lap and straddles him, her caution drowned in the wake of passion.

They part too soon for Clarke’s liking, but Bellamy’s hands stroke her back idly, like he has all the time in the world to touch her, and all that matters is that they get that time. They have seen the world end countless times, but it is reborn with each second Bellamy looks at Clarke like he looked at the sky that first day on Earth: joyful, disbelieving, reverent.

“I never thought I’d get this,” he pants.

“Me?”

“Happiness.” He says it like it’s the same thing.

Clarke kisses him for it, half because he’s sweet and half because she can.

Their love has eclipsed entire planets, even outlasting the one where it was born, but he has always been Earth to her. The final journey home. Joy.

And joy tasted better on Earth.

#TUMBLR ATE THE FIRST PRINCESS LINE AFTER THE READ MORE RIP TO THOSE READING FROM EARLY RBS #this rly got away from me it was supposed to be a DRABBLE #BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALYSSA I AM SORRY ALL I HAVE IS HALF EDITED FIC WHEN U DESERVE THE WORLD BUT I LOVE U!!!!!!!!!!#my fic #my bellarke #alyssa tag #the 100 #bellarke #useralyssa #the 100 fics

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crazylittlenobody · 4 years

Text

Missed Bellarke Moments — Pt.1

I’m going to do this in a random order, so apologies, but here’s a moment where they could’ve kissed in the season four finale. All the notes and comments are much appreciated! :) This is a long one, so heads up!

Bellamy wouldn’t exactly say he was thrilled that the world was practically coming to an end right before his eyes — but the idea of getting to spend five years alone up in space with a girl he’d been pining after for way too long, brought him more happiness than he’d ever admit out loud. The muffled sound of someone clearing their throats pulled Bellamy from his thoughts, Clarke stood before him with a weak smile playing on her lips. It caused his heart to falter at the sight, he knew removing her helmet for Emori was a bad idea...but he also knew Clarke wouldn’t have listen even if he’d told her not to.

The pair had been assigned by Raven to figure out how long they could last up there without food until they could get the algae farm up and running, but Clarke was quick to notice the lack of concentration from her partner. The man stood before her, anxiety radiating off of him as she watched his thumb tap against the metal of the fencing in a rapid pace.

“Hey.” The blonde uttered, knowing she’d grab his attention. The brown eyed boy reciprocated the smile, although worry laced through his entire demeanor.

“Grounders in space, that’s an oxymoron.” The boy muttered, his eyes remaining on the rocket facing them. He prayed it would hold up long enough to get them to the safety of the ring. Bellamy’s eyes fell upon Clarke as she spoke up,

“Survival’s a team of sport...especially up there. It’s our only choice.”

Bellamy knew she was right, she always was as irritating as that could be. They needed Echo, she could teach them things that they might need to know when they come back down. Who knows what the world might be like when they return...definitely not the way it was when they first came home. A light chuckle of a laugh left the blondes body.

“Only choice - also an oxymoron.”

The smirk on Bellamy’s face didn’t go unseen, the woman paraphrasing what he had said just moments ago. The tanned man’s eyebrows furrowing as he noticed the same cold sweat that had clung to every sick person he’d ever come across. He was cautious in his next movements, not wanting to overstep a line with the woman he cared so much for. Extending a hand and basking in the feeling of Clarke’s soft skin against his own - whether it was damp or not.

“So is cold sweat.”

His words seemed to make the blonde uneasy for a split second, the radiation leaving a heavy weight on Clarke’s shoulders. Bellamy noticed and instantly regretted the words leaving his mouth, averting his eyes from her gaze returning to their work they’d been meaning to do. Clarke seemed to be holding a breath as she said her next words, already sensing he wouldn’t like it.

“My mom had a vision of me dying,” The blonde glanced around the lab, then back to the boy before her. “Right here, Bellamy...just...if anything happens to m— “

Bellamy grew annoyed at her words, taking a hold of her shoulders to make sure she listened to his every word. Cutting the poor woman off mid-sentence. “Nothing is happening to you. Come on,” The man said trying to avoid any other confrontation. “Let’s go through the numbers again.”

Clarke huffed in frustration, following in pursue of the man as he left he. She knew he needed to hear this...just in case her mothers premonition comes true.

“You need to hear this, Bellamy.” Her voice was stern enough that the man turned to face her, bearing himself to put on a brave face. A sparkle twinkled in Clarke’s eye as she said her next words, “We’ve been through a lot together you and I...”

Bellamy gave a curt nod, she could say that again his mind flashing to all the shit they’d been through over these past almost five years. From war to war, from love to anger, they still remained here, beside one another about to conquer the death of the planet they had grown to call home. Clarke smirked, as though she was reminiscing all of those moments too, all the sweet and salty.

“I didn’t like you at first,”

That was nothing surprising, Bellamy hadn’t liked her either, assuming she was just another prissy princess believing herself more important than the others. But god how he was wrong. She was selfless, kind, more intelligent than he knew, she could draw amazingly - something she didn’t do often these days...but he’d seen what she could do. The woman continued,

“But even then, when you were stupidly reckless and annoying as hell...everything you did was to protect Octavia. She might not have saw that...but I did.” Bellamy struggled to keep his emotions intact as the blonde spoke; he didn’t know she cared as much as she did. “I know how big your heart is, Bellamy. It’s what I love most about you,“

“Clarke — “

“People follow you, and you inspire them because of this.”

The moment Clarke’s hand connected with his chest, his breath hitched. All of his walls he’d built up over time falling down once more for the blonde, no matter how hard he tried to suppress his feelings, they grew every time Clarke was around him.

“But the only way to ensure that we survive this, is if you use this.” The woman shifted her hand from Bellamy’s heart to lightly touch the side of his head. Bellamy shook his head lightly in disagreement, voice breaking as he spoke.

“I’ve got you for that.”

Clarke was touched by that, a microscopic smile on her lips. It was true, he was the heart in their relationship whilst she held the responsibility of the head. Every one of their decisions she’d used her head, hoping - no - praying it would be the right one this time.

“Raven’s premonition came true...” Clarke sighed, not wanting to face the fact that she might not get through this, but either way she had to prepare herself. In this life, anything could happen.

Bellamy frowned, wanting this talk of her not being around to be over...out of all the people in his life, losing Clarke would hurt most. Their gaze never left one another as a tear spilled down the blonde’s pale cheek, the boy reaching up to swipe away the tear but his touch lingering on her skin. The freckled man watching as Clarke melted into his touch, pushing his hand against her cheek to rest. The blue in her eyes shining bright as they brimmed with tears, the sight faltering the beat in Bellamy’s heart.

He wanted to take her pain away...take away his own, even just for a moment. Bellamy plucked up all the courage he had left, leaning down to meet Clarke’s awaiting lips, it had been a long time coming. The salty taste of Clarke’s tears being the first thing he could taste, his arm curling around her waist to pull her closer as Clarke returned the kiss; allowing themselves to indulge in the moment. A smile crept along Bellamy’s lips as he let himself open up to the fact that maybe this five years will turn out exactly as he pictured. With him and Clarke finally happy...finally together. Clarke broke from the kiss, a bright smile on her face from the moment they’d shared. It felt like peace...home...love, all at once.

“Bellamy...I — “ Clarke smiled, still finding it hard to believe that Bellamy had kissed her.

“I’d be lying to you if I told you that I hadn’t be waiting to do that for a hell of a long time.” Bellamy admitted, his fingers grazing his lips where Clarke’s had been just moments ago. The man’s heart pulsing with love. Clarke let out a light laugh, her cheeks flooding scarlet. He always knew how to make her blush.

“I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t been waiting for you to do that...” The blonde smirked playfully earning a nudge from the anxious boy, Clarke glanced behind her to see if anyone was paying attention.

Then with one tug of her hand on his suit, Bellamy stumbled into a kiss. Clarke’s hand finding its way to the nape of his neck, deepening their kiss, the blonde piling all the love she had for him into the kiss. If she knew this was the last time she’d lay eyes on him, she’d have told him she loved him.

#clarke x bellamy #bellamy blake #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #clarke griffin #fluff #ff #i hope you all enjoy #bob morley #eliza taylor

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prairiesongserial · 4 years

Text

11.7

Ice cream in hand, and Val’s wallet a little lighter, Friday and Val explored the steamboat. The outside walls of the middle deck’s cabin were papered with posters - the photography kind, which was rare and expensive. All pictured the same girl in the same pose, about a hundred of them in a row, some overlapping, even. The text was printed in a regional style that gave Friday a headache if she tried to read it, though that didn’t stop her slowing her pace to admire the figure of the pictured girl.

“You think I could clean up that nice?” she asked Val around her ice cream.

Val seemed to notice the posters for the first time. His eyes scanned over the girl’s slinky dress, each wrinkle in the silk intentional and suggestive with light and shadow. Three strands of pearls were fastened close to her neck, her dark hair tidily pinned away so the pearls drew in the eye and held it. The girl’s features were dainty - and clearly belonged to someone several years Friday’s junior.

“You already dress like that,” Val said.

Friday laughed. She didn’t own anything that rich. “What are you talking about?”

Val gestured down to Friday’s sundress, then kept walking. Friday wanted to make fun of him for the crime of conflating cotton and silk, but she couldn’t quite shake the compliment under the comparison. She trotted to catch up with Val.

A young mother was passing in the other direction, counting coins out of a change purse. She wore her Sunday best, a green dress that closed at the neck, with sleeves that billowed outwards. Her three children circled, nearly tripping her, their eyes on the purse.

“Hold on, now, all of you,” she snapped, counting pennies into their palms in turn. “Don’t spend it all on peanuts, do you hear? And Gawain, watch out for your brothers.”

Friday tugged Val’s shirt, steering him over to the woman. As the last of the three children hurtled off with his handful of pennies, Friday gave her a wave and a smile.

“Hello, do I know you?” the woman said. Her change purse still held loosely in her hand, the woman’s attention slid from Friday to her children, still barely in sight.

The pickpocket in Friday, long retired, wondered what on earth was wrong with this woman. She felt baited into robbing the poor creature, though of course she kept her twitching fingers to herself.

“No, Ma’am,” Friday said. She looped her arm in Val’s, sensing he wanted to escape. “We’re in town with the circus.”

“Oh, how lovely,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m Marian Pérez, pleased to meet you.”

“Friday Wilmot, and my associate Valerie Lecter.” Friday held out her hand to shake. “This is our first time in Everglades City, so we really don’t know our way around yet.”

Marian’s sons were out of sight among the distant circus tents. Marian didn’t seem to be concerned. She set her purse down on the boat’s railing to shake Friday’s hand. Friday frowned at it. People passed by on either side. In Vegas, that purse would have already been gone, but there it sat.

“Is Everglades City a very safe town?” Friday asked.

“Oh, certainly,” Marian said. Friday barely heard the response, watching the change purse bob with the gentle rhythm of the water under the boat. “There’s no safer place to live. I’ve only just moved here recently myself, when I was pregnant with my second, and that was exactly why. Even you can tell, and you’ve only been in town a handful of hours.”

Marian beamed at Friday proudly.

“It’s due to the Bellamys, of course,” she added. “I only found out well after I moved here, but I was curious too!” She tittered, touching Friday’s arm familiarly, and Friday laughed with her. This was getting very interesting.

“What do the Bellamys have to do with it?” Val asked. He no longer looked like he was waiting for an opening to slip away, his gaze focused intensely down on Marian.

“They got rid of the crime,” said Marian simply.

Friday’s eyes went wide before she got her face under control.

“The Bellamys operate Everglades City,” Marian said, finally taking up her purse. “There hasn’t been crime here for as long as they’ve been in charge, and that’s been a long time. If you’re interested in the town history, I’m sure there’s someone else who could tell it better. Oh, let’s see...”

Marian’s attention jerked back to one of her sons, who had reappeared with ice cream, and seemed to want nothing of his mother but to show her. Friday licked a drop up from the bottom of her own ice cream cone. She had to agree with the kid; this was noteworthy ice cream - and in her book, all ice cream was noteworthy.

Friday grabbed Val’s sleeve urgently, and he went rigid, startled.

“What?” he hissed.

“If we travel with the circus, we can eat this all the time,” Friday hissed back, voice tight with emotion. She waved her cone around. “We can eat ice cream every day, Val.”

The kid stopped mid-sentence, looking at Friday with the eyes of a hawk.

“Mama, I want to join the circus,” he said. “Mama - ”

Friday took a big bite of ice cream, looking innocently up at Marian as the kid’s idea began to increase in pitch and volume. Whoops. Val began to steer her away, which was probably for the best.

“Thank you for the pleasant conversation, Mrs. Pérez,” Val said quickly. “On behalf of the Madsen and Something circus, I hope you enjoy your afternoon.”

Marian’s expression was quickly turning sour, but Friday and Val happily made their escape before the kid really began to squall. Val had led her down the ramp, back onto the pier they had arrived by, before Friday cracked up.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she laughed, ice cream running down her fingers.

“You’re awful with children,” Val said wonderingly. It only made Friday laugh harder.

“Christ, I need to sit down,” she gasped, stomach aching. The pier looked like it had been put together without much care to how long it would last, or the unlucky fate of the person who would finally find out how long that was, exactly. The planks creaked loudly as Friday hoisted herself up on a barrel. As she straightened, the wind whipped a lock of blond hair in front of her eyes, reminding her that she was still wearing the wig she’d found.

Val paced in front of her, the skin at the base of his neck pink and glowing with sweat. His hair was so long, now, he must have been hot. It was hard to say whether or not he was in better spirits now, but his forehead wasn’t knotted with worry anymore. Not that he looked anything near relaxed.

Friday smiled to herself. She had leveled the top of the ice cream, though half of it had dribbled down her fingers.

“Here, eat this,” she said, holding the cone out to Val.

Val paused his pacing and came over to her. He took the ice cream, then sighed.

“This is sticky,” he said.

Friday hopped off her barrel and pulled a pink handkerchief from the pocket of her sundress. She wiped at her fingers, but found them unpleasantly still sticky. The water lapping at the pier was fairly high, high enough that if she reached, she could probably dip her handkerchief.

Friday was showing off a bit, as she knelt by the edge, straining to reach the surface of the water, but she almost hoped she would fall in. She was already clowning - it didn’t matter that she was wearing a nice wig and not a yarn one. She wasn’t running around interrogating young mothers for the joy of it; she was trying to make Val forget they were kind-of-sort-of prisoners of a traveling circus and there was no knowing when Val would see the door of the convent again. Why not commit to the bit and fall in a few feet of water? Val was too nice to laugh at her, but he would make a big fuss over her and forget to be melancholy for a few more minutes.

Friday’s concentration was complete as she strained for the water, her ankles wobbling as the handkerchief danced a hairsbreadth above the water’s surface. Several locks of hair fell in her eyes, and her ankles wobbled again as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“What are you doing?” Val asked. She couldn’t see him, but she heard him quietly crunch through a piece of ice cream cone.

An oar passed under the water, just under the spot where Friday’s handkerchief hovered. She looked up. An old man sat in a rowboat, kept company by a writhing net of the biggest fish Friday had ever seen. Each one was the size of one of Marian’s kids, four feet long at least. The fish took up more room in the boat than the old man did.

The old man paused his rowing. He glared at Friday - or more likely, into the sun behind her.

“You’ll lose your arm,” he said, and spat over his shoulder.

Friday straightened up. The man had the ordinary things one expected of fisherfolk in his rowboat with him, but he also had a shotgun wedged under the seat.

This was the person Friday should be asking questions. Friday shoved her handkerchief back in her pocket. The old man was moving on, bringing his rowboat to the shallow end of the pier. Friday followed, jogging along the pier to keep up. She could hear Val behind her, following at a sensible pace.

“Hey, I was wondering if you know someone named, uh…” Friday struggled to remember the previous courier’s name. “Adams! Someone named Adams?”

The man grunted.

“You don’t know him? Or you do?” Friday pressed.

The man was wrapping rope around a post as his net of fish flopped back and forth, rocking the little boat. A cloud moved overhead, its shadow passing over the water. Friday frowned. In that case, why was the old man still squinting like the sun was in his eyes?

Val caught up, finally.

“Something’s bothering me,” he said, pulling Friday aside. His hands were sticky too, she noticed, with satisfaction. “On the way in, Ezra told us not to wander off. But Mrs. Pérez says there’s no crime. And you saw…”

“How she just left her purse there?” Friday finished.

The old man tossed his fish up onto the pier; the writhing net landed an inch from Friday, and she screamed, jumping out of her skin. The old man climbed up after his catch.

“Don’t know an Adams,” the old man said. Friday wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself. “There’s more than two dozen people living here, pet. Haven’t you ever been to a city before?”

Friday barked a laugh, stepping toward the old man. Val caught her shoulder.

“How about any disappearances at all lately?” Val said.

The old man cracked up, howling with laughter. A shiver ran down Friday’s spine. Val was perfectly still beside her, his stiffness validating the wrongness that Friday felt under the old man’s laugh. The two of them stood and watched him, his net of fish all but forgotten as he cackled.

“...What’s funny?” asked Val.

“There’s more disappearances in Everglades City than there are people,” the old man said. “And as I was telling the lady, there’s no small number of people.”

The old man’s face twisted now, not in laughter, but in some unclear emotion. No feeling came through in his words, his laughter dead in the air.

“Been a peculiarity of this city as long as I’ve been alive,” he said. “People’ll pack up a boat and row out into the glades, never come back. Leave their whole family behind. Some weeks, it’ll be one a day. Then you’ll have a dry month or two...but it never stops.”

The old man rubbed the white stubble on his chin thoughtfully as his net of fish slapped the pier in a frenzy.

“Just keep your hands where they are, young lady,” he mumbled, finally turning away. “Just keep ‘em where they are.”

11.6 || 11.8

#story

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chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky · 5 years

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Hi! I wish you would write a fic in where Miller finds out about Josephine Clarke and there is a confrontation until Clarke finds a way to give him a message *something only they would know (maybe from their Ark days? Or something she said to him (inside joke about camp or something about one of the Blakes)

*raises my hands to the sky* LET MILLARKE RIIIIIIIIIIIISE This took a bit of a turn to get to the place I wanted it to go, but Millarke ft. Bellamy / Miller angst cool?

He thought he had someone.

Miller’s not an idiot. He knows that the original 100 weren’t a thinganymore. They were too shattered. Raven, Bellamy, and Murphy stood on one side.He and Clarke on another. Octavia was god knows where. But he thought he andClarke were on a side.

Miller always liked Clarke. Sure, when he first met her, he thought shewas too serious and that she was a killjoy that she was infuriating. Clarke wasall these things. But all those things kept him alive. He watched her be kind,be gentle, be heartbroken, put everyone before herself. Make terrible choiceafter terrible choice.

He’s reaches the conclusion a real leader doesn’t want to be a leader.They don’t want that power, they don’t want to make those decisions. But theydo it. Because they love their people and someone has to. They take thatburden.

So when he finds Bellamy on the floor of a Sanctum house and Bellamy isnear inconsolable, all Miller can do is swallow. “No,” he finds himself saying.It isn’t a comfort that he should be giving to Bellamy, but it’s all his brain canhandle. “No, it can’t be.”

“C-Clarke is gone.” Bellamy says, sitting up. “She…”

He can’t finish the sentence.

Miller takes a step back from the man. He knows logically he needs tocontinue to help him, but he finds that even he is struggling to keep standinghimself.

He thought he had someone.

“No,” Miller repeats. “No, you have to be wrong.”

He has to be wrong. He can’t do this by himself. He can’t do this withthe way people look at him, if he doesn’t have someone with him. He can’t dothis.

Clarke’s always been there. Even when she wasn’t, she was a presence inthe back of his mind. When they had landed on the Ground, she was the one whoknew he was more afraid of the impending war than he let on. After all, he wasa thief, not a soldier. She found him sitting by the fire, not wanting to makethe trek to his tent. “Afraid of all thestars in the sky?” She’d asked him, nudging him playfully. When he didn’tanswer, she simply said, “As long asthere are stars, there is light. As long as there is light, there is hope.”

She walked him back to his tent that night, the words as long as there is light, there is hopeplaying in his head.

“Dammit, I’m not wrong,Miller!” Bellamy shouts, slamming his hand against the ground. “You didn’t seewhat we saw in the lab, you didn’t see what they do to nightbloods. They killthem. So they can use their bodies to live forever. You didn’t see—” Bellamy cutshimself off. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I can’t believe—”

“I said, no!” Miller shouts,shaking his head as frantically as he feels. “I said no, Clarke is not dead,Clarke survived the death wave. She literally survived something called a Death Wave. She’s not going to be killedby some immortal cult on a moon, which is a sentence I can’t believe that I’msaying!”

Bellamy seems to have regained feeling in his legs, because hestruggles to his feet and stalks over to him. “Stop say that!”

“I can’t believe you’re not!” Miller shouts, getting right up in hisface. He’d been walking on eggshells around Bellamy because he wasn’t sure howlong this forgiveness would last, but right now, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t careat all because he feels an anger he hasn’t felt in a while. “How can you justbelieve that she’s dead? Because you saw a video that someone somewhere died?This is Clarke we’re talking about!”

“I know it’s Clarke!” Bellamy bellows back, right in his face. Hishands reach up and he grips Miller’s collar. Any other instance, Miller mightbe afraid, but he isn’t. He’s furious.“Don’t you think I know? I know it’s Clarke! I know! It’s—” Bellamy swings and slams his hand against the wallnext to his head.

“Then take your head out of your ass and do something about it!” Millershouts. “Because Clarke would not die this way. Clarke is not going to diewithout anyone noticing. Clarke—”

“Is gone.”

The two flinch.

When she walks in, Miller isn’t sure he’d believe it if he wasn’tlooking at her. She is Clarke. Exceptshe’s not. She moving slinkily, eyes raking up and down the two. “You must be,don’t tell me,” The woman with Clarke’s face. “Nathan.”

“Miller.” Miller corrects, eyes wide.

Bellamy lets go of him and takes a precautionary step back, as if he’safraid of her. Miller doesn’t blame him. It’s eerie, the way everything isslightly off.

“What is it with you guys and last names?” The woman sighs. “Seriously,you made my day so much more complicated.”

“I’m sure that sucked for you.” Miller snaps. “Clearly you suck atbeing Clarke, so why don’t you give us her back and you can go on her way.”

The woman peers at him. “Are you all this serious all the time? It’ssuch a buzz kill.”

Listening to her speak like this almost tilts his axis. Her face is softerthan he’s ever seen it, but there’s something malicious brewing underneath.Like a serpent waiting to strike.

“Not all of us have the ability to not give a shit about life, becauseyou’ll just steal the next one.” Miller snaps. He looks at Bellamy, waiting forhim to jump in, but he never does. He simply stands there, frozen, staring atthe woman he’s always loved.

Bellamy never told him. But Miller knows.

The woman laughs, sharp and cold. “Poor guys. Seems like a stressfulway to live.” She takes a step toward her and it takes everything within Miller’swillpower not to recoil from her. “What’s the matter Miller? Afraid of thestars in the sky?”

Miller freezes. “What?”

The woman makes a face. “I would be careful who you tell. Just know we’reholding all the cards.”

As she leaves, Miller can’t feel his hands. He hears Bellamy let out abreath behind him, and then something that sounds like a sob. “She’s not dead.”Miller breathes.

“What?” Bellamy snaps behind him.

“She’s not dead!”

“Miller, I swear, I will hit you—”

Miller turns around, a smile curling on his lips. Shaking his head, hesays, “This isn’t denial, she is alive. As long as there are stars, there is light.As long as there is light, there is hope.”

Bellamy frowns. “What? What does that—”

“We gotta get the others.” Miller says, grabbing his arm and dragginghim forward. “Can’t have Clarke do all the work, can we?”

#the 100 #nathan miller #bellamy blake #josephine lightbourne #millarke #bellarke #season 6 #MY MALLARD BROTH

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oceanna1919 · 6 years

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Contents Under Pressure{1X07, part1}

‘’For the love of pizza, I'm begging you for the tenth time!" I complained through gritted teeth, "Stop pacing!" For the last hour, Clarke couldn’t stop pacing as I was watching the camp being destroyed by the stormy weather. My best friend threw a glance my way, stopped for a moment to stare at stormy weather outside, and then started pacing again. I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

"I'd like to see how you'd react if Bellamy was in Finn’s place’’ She murmured but I heard her.

‘’What’s that supposed to mean?’’ I asked her tiredly.

‘’Nothing’’ she said quickly, as she came to sit beside me. Finally!!

‘’Look, Clarke. You can’t do anything for Finn right now. Not until this girl fix her radio. Who is she by the way? Finn’s cousin or something?’’ I asked quietly, pointing at the brunette. Clarke let out a sad sigh and her jaw clenched.

‘’She’s his girlfriend’’ She said harshly and my eyes widened. But he slept with Clarke and he has never mentioned the brunette from the ark.

‘’But you slept with him. Does she know?’’ She looked quickly at me confuse.

‘’How do you know?’’ She asked and I rolled my eyes.

‘’The night of Charlotte’s death I couldn’t sleep, so I came to your tent and I heard you having sex with him. I didn’t want to interrupt you.’’ She blushed and looked to the ground

‘’It was an accident.’’ She said still looking on the ground.

‘’ How did you accidentally slip and fall on ‘it’? How does that accidentally happen?’’ I asked sarcastically with a smirk and I saw Clarke’s mouth fall opened.

‘’JASMINE!’’ she exclaimed and she hit my arm, making me burst out laughing.

‘’To answer your question. Raven knows.’’ So her name’s Raven. I felt sad for Clarke. She definitely doesn’t deserve this. I side hugged her and she put her head on my shoulder.

‘’He doesn’t deserve you Clarke. You will find someone better than Finn.’’ I said, trying to comfort her.

‘’Jasmine, I love him. I gave him everything and I mean everything.‘’ she said, she was close to crying.

‘’ Baby, I know. I can see that by the way you’re looking at him. But, let him be girl. Save him and let him be. That’s my advice.’’ I said, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. I felt her nod, as she got up, giving me a smile as a ‘thank you’ and I smiled back. I saw her go to Raven and she tried to encourage her, before going to Finn, unwrapping the cloth that had been around the knife stuck in Finn’s side. I glanced over at Finn and he was looking very pale. I frowned as I walked over to Finn and trailing my eyes down to his wound.

‘’ His wound ain’t normal.’’ I said and Clarke nodded.

“Calling Ark Station. Ark station. Please come in.” I hear Raven repeat herself again and again. “I’m on the ground with the hundred.” She muttered.

“This is a restricted station. Who is this? Please identify yourself.” Both mine and Clarke’s heads snapped up when we heard a male voice being transmitted through the radio. We shared a look of hope and rushed over to Raven.

“This is Raven Reyes. I- I'm from Mecha Station. I'm transmitting from the ground. The hundred are alive. Please, you need to get Doctor Abby Griffin. Doctor Abby Griffin. Now.”

“Hang on Raven, we're trying to boost your signal.” Everyone had gathered around us now and was murmuring among themselves.

“Raven? Are you there?” I let out a cry of happiness, as I heard Clarke’s mom, Abby.

Clarke leaned on the desk Raven was sat at. “Mom? Mom it's me.”

“Clarke?” Abby gasped.

“Mom, I need your help.” Clarke said looking at Finn. “One of our people was stabbed by a Grounder.”

“Clarke, this is the Chancellor. Are you saying there are survivors on the ground?” My eyes widened. Wasn’t he dead? I thought Bellamy killed him. Was he a ghost?

“Yes, the Earth is survivable. We're not alone.” Clarke informed him. “Mom, he's dying. The knife is still in his chest.” Clarke said.

“Clarke, is my son with you?” Jaha asked, making Clarke freeze in her tracks. Her lips trembled at the thought of Wells. So I decided to answer this question.

“Hey Chancellor Jaha, or his ghost, or whatever. Jasmine is speaking. I’m so sorry, but… Wells is dead.” The line was silent for a minute as Jaha took in the news.

‘’Jasmine is that you?’’ I heard my dad murmured and it was my turn to freeze. I didn’t expect him to be there.

‘’ No it’s not me. It’s my twin sister.’’ I answered sarcastically and Clarke pushed me gently to the side.

‘’We don’t have time for this.’’ She told me and I nodded. She was right. ‘’Mom I don’t know what to do. I need your help.’’ Clarke said, looking at the radio.

“Okay. I’ll help you. I’m going to talk you through it, step by step.”

Clarke walked over to the bed where Finn was resting. Suddenly, we were thrown slightly off balanced by the wind as the dropship rocked.

“Just find-” The end of Abby’s sentence was completely muffled, making it impossible to understand.

“What?” I shouted, before turning to look at Finn’s real girlfriend beside me.

“What's going on?” She gazed at the radio and to me after.

“It's not the radio, it's the storm.”

Minutes later, Octavia walked into the dropship, soaked to the bone, with two canisters.

“Great.” I said with a slight smile. I took one of the canisters and went to drink, but its scent stopped me.

“Ugh.” I grunted. “What the hell is that? I thought it was water!’’ I exclaimed

‘’Its Monty's moonshine” Octavia answered

“Pretty sure no germ could survive it.” Octavia joked.

‘’I confirm.’’ I said, raising a hand up.

“Storm's getting worse. Monroe, close the door.” Clarke ordered

“But we still have people out there.” Monroe argued. Who was out there?

“Monty and Jasper still aren't back yet. Neither is Bellamy.” Octavia mentioned with a worried look on her face. Bellamy? I don’t know why I was worried about him. I hate him, or not. No I like him. I just don’t like his attitude.

“It's okay, they'll find somewhere to ride it out.” Clarke said, trying to reassure the younger Blake.

Raven made a noise to get Clarke's attention then she held out a needle.

“One stitching needle.” Raven announced, placing the needle in Clarke’s hand.

“Great, we still need something to close the wound.” Clarke informed her.

“There's some wire on the second level. I used it for the tents.” Octavia informed quickly.

“That’ll do’’ I nodded.

“Yeah.” Octavia walked over to the ladder as Raven called out to her.

“Stay away from the blue wires that run through the ceiling. I rigged it to the solar cells in the roof.”

“That means they're hot! You got that?” Raven continued, raising her voice.

‘’ She’s not stupid.’’ I said, glaring at Raven and she looked at me. Octavia was about to climb up the ladder when Monroe yelled.

“Hey! They're back!”

“Bellamy!” His sister shouted. I saw Bellamy walking in first, also soaking wet from the rain, with two guys beside him, carrying Lincoln’s body.

‘’ The hell are you doing?’’ Octavia yelled, walking up to her brother.

“It's time to get some answers.” He said casually.

‘’He means revenge ’’I pointed out, standing beside Clarke and Bellamy turned his gaze on me, which became darker. I’m pretty sure he was mad at me. It wasn’t my fault, he was being an ass.

“I mean 'intel’.” Bell corrected me with a frown on his face.

“Get him upstairs.” He ordered the two guys who immediately started dragging Lincoln up the ladder.

“This is one of your stupidest ideas of all time and trust me, you have a lot.” I said, ready to snap at him, with crossed arms.

“Bellamy, she's right.” Clarke added, standing beside me. He gave me an angry glare, completely ignoring Clarke.

“Clarke, okay we're ready. Can you hear me?” We heard Abby’s crackled voice through the radio. Bellamy turned quickly to look at the radio and he look surprised and scared, really scared. I forgot about his situation. But I wasn’t going to tell him that he missed his shot and that Jaha was alive.

“Look, this is not who we are.” Clarke said quietly.

“Clarke?” Abby called.

‘’Wait Abby. We’re dealing with a toddler at this very moment’’ I said, still glaring at Bellamy. I heard a quiet ‘what’ coming from Abby.

“It is now.” Bellamy stated, walking away, giving me one last angry look. Clarke turned to Finn and she was giving the information that Abby asked. At one point, delinquents in the room became very loud and I ordered them to go to the second floor. As I didn’t like Finn, because he played with Clarke, I didn’t like seeing him in this condition, so I decided to do my favorite thing in the world. Annoy Bellamy King Blake. I was climbing to the third floor when I heard Bellamy’s annoying voice.

‘’ Hey tie him! Tie him! Last thing we need is this bastard escaping because you screw-’’

As he was finishing his sentence, I almost tripped on the last step, so I let out a small cry and everyone turned to look at me and I looked at everyone embarrassed. I hate being so clumsy. I stood up quickly as nothing happened.

‘’Hello, beautiful people.’’ I said faking cheerfully. ‘’Except you. You’re ugly, inside and outside.’’ I said pointing at Bellamy. He rolled his eyes dramatically and I said.

‘’Don’t roll your eyes like that. They are going to fall out.’’ He let out a growl and I said.

‘’ Don’t growl, you will turn into a werewolf’’ He came at my face and began shouting and I just stayed there, letting him finish.

‘’I don’t have time for this! GET OUT!’’ The grounder began moving, glaring at Bellamy. I let out a fake yawn.

‘’ Did you finish your tantrum?’’ I asked him with bored eyes. He closed his eyes trying to control is anger.

‘’Do NOT cross my limits Jasmine. Go!’’ he ordered me.

‘’I do NOT take orders from you ,jackass!’’ I glared at him and he glared back. I saw Octavia, from the corner of my eyes coming up and when she saw The Grounder tied up and beaten, she looked horrified. Bellamy when he saw his sister, he rolled his eyes again and went to Octavia.

‘’ Octavia, get out of here!’’ He tried to order her too. He really likes ordering people.

‘’ I told you, he healed my leg. He protected Jasmine. You didn't have to do this.’’ She said trying to convince her brother.

‘’This isn't about you or her, I'm doing this for all of us.’’ He said and I let out a sarcastic laugh. Yeah right. For all of us.

‘’ You did that for all of us?’’ Octavia asked with sarcasm, looking at Lincoln. GO Octavia Go!

‘’ I did that for Finn and Jasper and John and Diggs and Roma.’’ I shook my head. This is crazy.

‘’ It wasn't him!’’ Octavia said tiredly.

‘’ You don't know that!’’ He shouted in her face and I went and stood between them, glaring at him.

‘’Don’t yell at her you selfish piece of trash!’’ I yelled and pushed Bellamy to create a distance between us.

‘’We need to know what we're up again. How many there are and why they're killing us. And he's gonna tell us right now.’’ Bellamy said strongly, sending me daggers with his eyes. Bellamy stepped forward, going in front of Lincoln and Octavia grabbed his lower arm to stop him and he roughly took it out of her grip.

‘’ Drew, Miller take her downstairs.’’ The King said, pointing at Octavia and the two puppies nodded before grabbing Octavia but she wrestled free.

‘’ Get-get off of me! I don't even think he speaks English, he won't understand you.’’ Octavia said, with a disapproving frown on her face, before leaving. I was probably the only one that knew he was speaking English. Although I wasn’t going to tell anything.

‘’ Oh I think he will.’’ Bellamy growled, starring at Lincoln and I rolled my eyes. He really is a dick. I don’t know why I kissed him. I don’t know why I like him.

‘’ Jasmine go, before I make you.’’ The older Blake said looking at me with dark eyes and I sat down in the corner.

‘’I like to see you try Bellamy’’ I challenged him.

Bellamy started to ask Lincoln questions and Lincoln, of course, didn’t answer. Unexpectedly, the storm caused everyone to be thrown from where they are, except me because I was already sitting on the ground. Bellamy got up confused.

‘’ What the hell was that? Are we under attack?’’ Bellamy asked no one in particular.

‘’ Please, do me a favor and at least for once, try and use your left side of your brain, which is responsible for logic, and think. It’s the storm that caused that.’’ I said boringly, while playing with my fingers. I’m sure he glared at me for the 1000000th time today, but I couldn’t care less.

‘’ We're gonna try this one last time. What's your name? Where's your camp? How many of you are there?’’ Bellamy asked Lincoln and he didn’t get any answer.

‘’ Hey, check it out.’’ I guess his name was Miller said and Bellamy approached him and he crotched down, looking at something. Curiosity got the best of me and I crawl to them and I saw a bunch of vials.

‘’ What is all this stuff?’’ The other guy asked and I just realised that I didn’t know him name.

‘’ Who the hell knows with these people?’’ Bellamy said and he started untying what I assumed is Lincoln’s journal. Suddenly the grounder struggled to break free, taking me by surprise and I tried to stop Bellamy.

‘’Come on Bellamy. This is his personal stuff.’’ He completely ignored me, what a surprise, and he opened Lincoln’s journal, flipping through the notebook. Lincoln had a talent at drawing. He had drawings of our camp. Bellamy stopped when he saw a drawn of Octavia. Mhh, I will ask him to draw me too! Bellamy frowned his eyebrows and he stopped again turning the pages. I looked down and I saw a drawing of me. Ah, request done .That took me by surprise. Why he drew me and Octavia? I looked back at Lincoln and he was already looking at me. Okay? That was awkward. I saw Bellamy clenching his jaw a couple of times, before continuing flipping through the pages.

‘’ It's our camp. Guessing that all those marks add up to 102. 10 are crossed out. That's how many people we've lost.’’ Bellamy announced and he got up, still holding Lincoln’s journal.

‘’ You've been watching us ever since we got here!’’ Bellamy said looking at Lincoln, who looked away. I let out a long breath. This was going to be a longggggg night.

#bellamy blake #the 100 bellamy #the 100 imagine #bellamy blake imagines #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake smut imagines #bellamy blake fanfiction #darkness #baby #baby preferences #fanfic

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amara-scott · 6 years

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Like broken glass.

Tv Show: The 100 Characters: John Murphy x Kayla (OC) Categories: Angst, Fluffy

With all the new freedom down here on earth, it is hard to decide what to actually do first. One of my favorites is definitely watching the sun rise in the warm morning hours and set into the cold night. The sky always lit up with colors so vibrant, I first thought another apocalypse would be starting and panicked. Just to be calmed by Clarke, who tried to hide her amusement terribly and I figured I had to let loose more. Ask less and experience more.

That's why, over the span of a couple days, everyone who talked to me knew me as the positive thinker. The one who tried to reason with a cup half full- or even overflowing- rather than half empty.

I don't think I made any enemies so far. I try to stay on everyone's good side, using the second chance I was given. Why waste our time down here picking fights if we can pick the most beautiful flowers instead?

"Ay, Kayla! Move your long legs over here!" I pick my eyes off the ground right outside my tent and find Bellamy standing with his arms crossed and a smile slowly forming on his sun-kissed face. I stand up and put down the stick that I started drawing pictures in the dirt with. My feet stopping near him.

"What's up, Bell?" I ask, giving him a smile and wait for our unofficially selected leader to command me around. Not that I had anything bad to say about him- but sometimes you could think he felt better than others.

"Do you mind giving Murphy some of your sunshine?" He smirks, shifting his arms and the corners of his eyes crinkle. I frown briefly and glance around his figure, hearing a huff.

John stops beside Bellamy and stares at him, unamused. "I heard that."

"I think you were meant to." I pipe up and Bellamy lets out a chuckle, pointing his thumb at me for just a moment.

"She's not wrong."

"Don't worry, John. I bet Bellamy just wanted to be funny. Let's get to work, shall we?" The older Blake still seems to be amused at the situation he created and I don't give him another glance, trying to break John off his staring contest, his jaw now clenching as he turns his cold eyes toward me.

"I dare you to call me that one more time, sunshine." I quirk an eyebrow but shake my head at him quickly, stepping closer to the two. Bellamy's laugh dies down and his hands are placed on his hips now.

"Sorry, I didn't know you don't-"

"-Just shut up already! You're giving everyone a fucking headache with your constant blabbering." He glares for a moment longer, maybe waiting if I would yell back. And then he storms off into the opposite direction, not even stopping when Bellamy calls his name loudly.

"He's an idiot, don't bother, Kayla." I nod and give him a small smile, looking over at the drop ship and see Clarke looking around camp.

"I'll go get myself a job, see you around, Bell." He nods and I join Clarke, her lips rounding into a smile as she sees me.

"Hey, I was looking for you. How are you doing today?" She asks and we walk inside together.

"Alright, what about you?" She frowns at me and I take a seat on one of the hammocks.

"Alright? What happend?"

"Nothing, really. Don't let me bother you, how can I help out?" She raises an eyebrow and folds her arms as I stand back up, rubbing my hands together. She doesn't press any further though, letting my thoughts fully wander back to Murphy's hateful gaze while I rip up fabric to make more bandages.

_________________

And then something weird happened.

I walk out of the drop ship, ready to enjoy the bonfire with all the others and maybe even some dinner. And there he sits. Murphy and a couple other guys. His smile so bright but not fully lifting up to his eyes. They shine with something different, so empty.

"Quit staring, will you?" I zone back into my present head and make out Murphy walking over to me. One glance around shows me that some others were staring at the scene enfolding.

I look back at Murphy, not sure if I should run. His friends follow him but stay back, just watching and bickering.

"What's your problem, Anderson? Am I disturbing your perfect image of a society?" I gulp, not knowing how to react to his behaviour. He is teasing me, he wants to know what happens when I had too much. I won't give him the satisfaction.

"No, you fit right in. I debated if I should apologize again. For how I acted earlier. I'm sorry, Murphy." He rolls his eyes and squeezes his knife tightly, his jaw tense as his eyes settle back on me.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No." He steps closer, all conversations around us are on hold and I feel all their eyes on us. Murphy only stops a couple inches from my face, the darkness in his stare nearly makes my legs tremble.

"One of these days, I will push you. You will have to break eventually, just you wait and see." He whispers and turns around, walking off to his tent. I stare after him, shuddering at the cold wind.

And he did not dissappoint in his promise. He did try to push me, a lot. In so many different ways. And that for almost a week now, multiple times a day.

"Sunshine! Watch out, to your left!"

I don't look back to the voice and just move to the right, to be out of the way. But instead I am met with another body to my right as I glance left to look who's coming.

I stumble back and fall onto my bum, looking up at a smirking Murphy who is actually carrying something useful. He stops and just looks down at me.

"Oops, did I say left? I meant right." He winks and walks off, I huff my hair out of my face only for it to fall right back across my face.

On the same day he comes rushing into my tent in the evening as I am changing, quickly covering my bare upper half with a shirt as he whistles. As if it's not enough he steps closer and burries his hands into his pockets while I try to calm my racing heart.

"Bellamy's group just came back from the hunting trip, the one Octavia was on. She is probably not going to make it, just wanted to let you know." With that he twirls around and leaves the tent with a smile, whistleing a tune as I stare after him, my eyes have never been as wide.

I always held a soft spot for Octavia, her character was just as cheerful as mine at times and we shared many secrets at nightly walks throught the campgrounds. I feel my body heating up and eyes gloss over as I sprint out, past Murphy and directly into the drop ship. I glance around frantically, Clarke standing on the side and sorting through boxes, probably looking for anything that could save Octavia.

"Clarke, Clarke! Where is she- is she okay? What happened to Octavia?" She looks over, turning around to face me.

"What do you-"

"-Kayla?" My eyes dart to the far right, Octavia stands there with Jasper and Monty. Casually talking. As if she was alright. Is she? My breath slows down and I think back. Murphy. Of course.

"What's going on here?" I look over at Bellamy, climbing down the ladder from the second floor. "What's with O? She's fine." He adds.

"Nothing, I don't know?" Octavia says and frowns at me, I try to form a sentence but can't. And then a voice from behind me enters the room and the conversation.

"A meeting? Why did no one call me." I look at him- no, glare. Deeply feeling that bubble in me grow with all kinds of things to throw his way. When his eyes find mine, he smirks, bumping his shoulder with mine and dips his head close to my ear.

"Just a joke, loosen up." He whispers and leans back to examine my expression, I assume.

"You- you idiot! How could you- why-" I snap and my palm makes contact with his cheek. His smile wiped off and head tilted to the side. I stammer, stumbling over my words. He still doesn't look back.

"Who do you think you are?" I whisper and tears roll down my cheeks, my shirt sleeves quickly drying them off.

"Hey, Kayla. Relax, what happened?" A hand curls around my shoulder and I know it's Bellamy but I can't help and shake his gesture of comfort off me. Not looking back at him, just at Murphy. His eyes go back to my face, not as amused anymore. Rather irritated and regretful? But it's soon replaced with a smirk.

"Told you, I would break your act." He says and folds his arms, Bellamy pushes me to the side gently, stepping into my space and Muprhy's eyes only leave me when Bellamy starts talking.

"Seriously? Did you tell her something happened to O- Just to get your way? Was the punch to the face satisfaction enough?" He growls and I step outside the drop ship, all the eyes too much for my head right now. My tent is the place I finally find somewhat peace and sleep.

But how could one be so cruel?

The next day starts off tense for me. I decide to spend some time in my tent, thinking. I am sure it would be especially weird around the people who saw my outburst. I wanted to quit my temper that I had on the ark. I wanted to change, be a better person than back up there. But I guess old habits die hard.

When it turns dark outside once more, I decide I need food. Maybe some water too, so I exit my tent.

"Kayla-" I turn my face to Octiavia, her arms coming around me as soon as she is close enough. I hug her back immediately, but don't let any tears fall. I am glad she is okay, after all.

"-Murphy is a huge dick, I will show him what happens when he messes with my family." She pulls away and gives me a grin. I give her a small smile and laugh at her comment, nodding.

"Sorry you had to see that yesterday-"

"-don't apologize! I would have snapped his neck as soon as I would have had the chance in your spot. He is a madman." I glance over the camp, and see a couple eyes on us. Mostly the eyes of Jasper, Monty and Clarke. Probably all knowing that Octiavia was best at making sure I was back to normal.

"Hey, O- I'm-" My attempt to be alone for a moment gets interrupted by loud voices shouting at each other. Two, to be exact. Two that I know better than I thought I would.

I walk towards the source and Octavia follows me, a crowd already forming around them. I push my way further to the front to see both their faces. Just as Murphy pushes Bellamy off of himself, Murphy's bloody face tells me they must have already fought for some time.

"Leave me alone, Bellamy." He hisses at him and their staring contest intensifies, my head tells me to step up and break this off.

But Octavia is holding my arm, not tightly, just to make sure I don't do something I will regret. And I thank her with a quick glance. But her eyes stay on her brother and Murphy.

Bellamy seems frustrated, taking a step back and huffs.

"You only care about yourself!" He screams, clenching his jaw, Murphy stands still for a moment. Eyes lingering on the floor. They come up and meet mine. He blinks a couple times, focusing his eyes back on Bellamy, who is walking away from the scene.

"You're wrong." He mutters, loud enough for most to hear but Bellamy decides to ignore it. He must have heard. Almost everyone leaves too, probably assuming the most entertaining part of the fight is over.

I stand still and watch Murphy's back. His fists clenching und unwinding every now and then.

"Let's get you food, Kayla." I don't look at Octavia but I know she wants me to let him suffer, how he deserves it. And I should agree. I should turn around and don't waste another thought about him.

"Go ahead, I'll be right there." I don't look away from Murphy's frozen figure.

"Kayla, don't-"

"-Really, I promise. I will be right there." This time I look at her, with a sigh she nods, giving me a half smile.

"Just call me, if you need me." I smile back and watch her walk over to a spot where she is still clearly watching. Just like Clarke. I sigh and turn back to Murphy. Slowly approaching.

I step next to him, gazing over, his eyes seem glossy, like broken glass. He doesn't look at me, just sits down, cross legged.

"What do you want?" He looks up at me, my heart swelling with hurt at his expression. Even though I had no reason to feel bad. No single one. Did I?

"I don't want anything. But maybe you want someone to listen." I decide to join him on the floor, his eyes not leaving me. I give him a smile, hoping he would take it as a peace sign. But he shakes his head to himself, forcing an unamused smile. His eyes forward.

"Of course, still trying to bring peace-"

"-John! For once- stop criticizing me. You start to sound like my mother." I cast my eyes into the depths that his were lost in, so I don't have feel his boring into mine. Who knows what I would do then.

After a moment of silence, I decide this won't go anywhere. Murphy is just too stubborn and bitter. "Forget it." I mutter and stand up, dusting off my pants and turn around, walking to the bonfire. A heavy feeling in my chest and hot tears are burning behind my eyes. This idiot.

"Kayla." I stop and look over. Murphy walks a couple steps. His hands stuffed back into his pockets. His eyes on the ground between us. I turn around to face him and take his arm after another moment of nothing. I pull him toward the drop ship, not bearing to look at his exposed wounds any longer.

"Sit down." I say softly and gather a cloth and some moonshine, a bowl of water already on the table next to Murphy. He sits in the chair closest to me.

I start dipping the cloth into water and cup his face with one hand, gently dabbing at the fresh blood. Careful not to hurt him.

"Anything you want to say?" I ask, trying to only focus on my task. Before he has a chance to talk though, I pour some moonshine onto the same cloth. Working my way across his face.

"Son of a-" He curses, hissing and flinching.

"I thought more along the lines of- sorry for being such an ass- or- sorry, won't happen again." When I'm done, I give him a small smile, placing the cloth down and stare down at him. He frowns, sitting up straight.

"How do you still not hate me?"

"I have a better question. How did you convince me into actually liking you?" I fold my arms and he stands up, our eyes not breaking contact.

"Maybe because I am just so undeniably handsome." He smirks and I roll my eyes, heaving a sigh. But eventually I join into his smile.

"But maybe because I showed you it's liberating to let go for once. You don't have to put on an act to fit in." He says more seriously. How would he know it was an act? We didn't even know each other on the ark.

"I am not pretending. I'm trying to change."

"Trying too hard." Instead of growing frustrated with him again, I nod, letting my shoulders drop. I look down at our feet.

"You're good at reading people." I admit and look back up, some hair falling into my face now. I forgot to even put it up this morning.

"So I've been told. But you're not hard to crack." I raise an eyebrow at him and his smirk irritates me, his soft lips pulling into a smile next. His hand reaches out, pushing my hair back behind my ear, lingering on the skin there.

I close me eyes for a moment, just enjoying the quiet.

Nearly not noticing his face coming closer.

But I open them and now his are closed, his breath calm and deep, mixing with mine. I decide to close my eyes again and soon feel his lips pressed to mine, his hand back by my face, holding my head in place.

Maybe we are not as different as I thought.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

More The 100 Imagines

Full Masterlist

#imagine #imagines #fanfiction #the 100 imagine #the 100 #john murphy imagine #john #murphy #john murphy #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #octavia blake

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spacekru-sass · 7 years

Text

the ice king’s queen (IV)

A story based on a dream I had of a character set in season 4. But every character has their journey to take, their backstory that tells how they got to where and who they were. And with the hiatus til Season 5? We’ve got time to make up

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 5

tag list: @lovelynerdytraveler@mischievousweasleys @floralfangurl @p3nny4urth0ught5

Warning: there is mentioned underage sex reference in here, please be warned.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE FEEDBACK so please don’t hesitate to tell me what you love, what you don’t love, what you hope to see for this character! Feedback keeps me in touch with the reader and we all want to succeed, right? I want you to read a good story, which keeps me writing because you’re happy! <3

Avie woke up later that evening to Octavia screaming outside. Bellamy had already sat up, his warm embrace gone from her waist. He held a stiff expression, not even throwing on a shirt as he moved out of the tent to save his sister from the distress outside. Avie followed in suit, clad only in a tank top and some pants, a blanket wrapped around you.

“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing up to the sky as a dropship flamed it’s way to Earth.

“They're coming to help us. Now we can kick some grounder ass,” one of the guys behind her cheers and she rolls her eyes as one of the tarts of camp prayed for shampoo.

“Shampoo is the least important thing, maybe it’s guns or food supplies,” Avie insisted, “Medical equipment; maybe they think with us taking off our wristbands that we’re sick.” She glanced up at Bellamy to see the shocked expression on his face.

10 minutes later, Avie was dressed in Bellamy’s tent. She pulled on her makeshift holster that she’d made and slid her blade in. “What are you doing?�� he asked tensely.

“I’m getting ready to go, we should get out there before the grounders do. If it cleared the ridge, it's probably near the lake,” she said but he pursed his lips, crossed his arms.

“No one's going anywhere. Not while it's dark. It isn't safe,” he insisted, “Go back to bed.” His expression was mute, a hidden temple of secrets that Avie had regretfully wanted to crack open.

“Bellamy Blake, I saw your facial expression outside,” Avie’s hands hung from her holster, “You need to tell me what you did, are they coming for you? What did you do?” She pushed but he only glanced away.

“Go back to bed Hummingbird,” he spoke softly, disappearing into the chaos of camp to inform everyone that they were staying put until morning. But when had Avie ever listened to the shaggy haired boy. She turned to blow out the light in the tent when her eyes made contact with the pistol next to Bellamy’s mattress. Better protection, right? She reached for it quickly, and blew out the lantern before disappearing out of the walls.

The trek to the dropship wasn’t that long, maybe a mile or two away but through a passage of trees, she saw the small metal box. She pulled the pistol from the back of her pants, double checking that the safety was off before holding it up cautiously and moving toward the ship. She fanned away some smoke as she heard some fuzz coming from a radio, a radio.

She moved forward before hearing a noise from behind her. She turned quickly only to be met by Bellamy. “Bell, what are you--,” he hit her over the head begrudgingly as she fell to the ground, unconscious. When she came to, she was being shaken by Clarke, dried blood caked to her forehead.

“Avie, what the hell happened to you?” Clarke mumbled, helping her sit up. Avie groaned, her baseball cap on the ground a few feet from her.

“Bellamy,” she grunted, standing up and moving to the dropship. “He was probably after the rad-, oh god, the radio,” she remembered, rushing to open the door. The radio was gone, only to find a young female, bloody and bruised. “Hi,” she breathed out, the girl looking wide-eyed at her.

“Hi,” she replied, matching the same look. She glanced down around her, the helmet shattered, the blood on her spacesuit dried a sickly brown maroon. “I made it?” she asked, looking back to Avie who nodded with a thoughtful grin.

“Yeah,” she helped her out, watching her blissfully turn around as Clarke watched. For a moment, the dangers of Earth, of Bellamy, of the Ark didn’t matter. Clarke and Avie were brought back to their first steps of the ground, merely 12 days before. The raindrops are refreshing as Finn comes into view and Raven kisses him, touching his face affectionately. Finn looks to Clarke, she’s devastated and Avie slid her hand down to grasp Clarke’s. She squeezes as the two interacted, Finn coming over for a tense moment.

Raven explained the situation of the Ark, about how she was supposed to have come down with Clarke’s mom, running back to the dropship. “We have to radio them! Tell them you’re alive,” Raven yelled.

“The radio’s gone,” Avie announced as the three turned to look at her, “This is all my fault, I should’ve shot him,” she raised her eyebrows at Finn angrily. “We have to find him.” Avie turns to run back to camp to confront the man who she clearly no longer knew, the other three on her heels. She saw him in the distance, walking along but didn’t have a chance to speak as Clarke got to him first.

“Hey! Where is it?”

“Hey, princess. You taking a walk in the woods?” he gruffed, his eyes staring straight forward as he continued moving through the trees.

“They're getting ready to kill 300 people up there to save oxygen. And I can guarantee you it won't be council members. It'll be working people. Your people. Bellamy. Where's the radio?” Avie cried out, catching up to them. Being out of breath didn’t stop her from stepping forward and shoving the man forcefully.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Bellamy’s jaw was tight, locked as he glanced at Finn, chuckling at how crazy you looked.

“You knocked me out in the woods alone, took all my weapons except a small knife and left me stranded,” you spat in his face, Finn stepping forward to pull you away from him. “You really want to tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about?” He was looking directly at you now, eyes filled with regret and confusion. He gulped and turned to catch someone’s eye who would help him.

“Bellamy Blake? They're looking everywhere for you,” Raven stepped forward, standing next to you with her hands on her hips.

“Shut up.”

“Looking for him, why?” Clarke asked, your eyes staring intently at Bellamy’s face, then to Raven.

“He shot Chancellor Jaha,” Raven announced and you stepped back in shock at her words. Mouth agape, you stared openly at him. All the work she did to keep him out of trouble, all the sacrifices Avie had made to keep him from being locked up, from being floated.

“That's why you took the wristbands. Needed everyone to think we're dead. And all that "whatever the hell we want"? You just care about saving your own skin,” Clarke spelt out but Avie had already moved away from the pack, slumped against a tree. Her chest compressed, tightly wound up as all the memories that led her to her sentence a lost cause, he was a criminal regardless. Her state went unnoticed.

Avie’s focus came to as Bellamy threatened Raven’s life, taking a step forward as the two got in each other’s faces. “That’s enough,” she gasped out, everyone turning to look at her. She doubled over, huffing for air.

“Jaha deserved to die. You all know that,” Avie shook her head as Finn came to her side. She held her hand up, signaling she was fine.

“Yeah, he's not my favorite person, either. But he isn't dead. You're a lousy shot.” Avie had heard enough. After learning that Bellamy had thrown the radio into a ravine, she stocked off into that direction. She felt like she was going to throw up or maybe pass out. She lived with her decisions for a year, thinking that what she’d done was right as long as it had saved Bellamy; given him a real chance. He’d been the best in his class, he was smart. He had potential. But everything she’d done had gone to waste.

“Avie,” his voice cracked as she began sloshing through the water, his hand clasped around her wrist.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me, don’t look at me,” she seethed, ripping her arm from his grasp.

“Avie, please understand, I did it-,”

“Don’t you dare say you did it for me and O,” she laughed effortlessly. His head cocked to the side, unsure of how to response to Avie’s attitude. “You want to know what I did to take care of you?” Avie spat in his face, pushing him backward so he fell in the water, splashes rising up to douse his face in water. Everyone turned for a moment before quickly turning away, leaving the drama as a personal moment. “I slept with the guard, for you. I insisted that I wouldn’t tell anyone, that I would take full blame if he let you go.”

Bellamy stared up at her in shock, face gone pale, a frown appearing on his lips as he stood in the water. “Don’t, I don’t want your pity. Hummingbird always finds a way, right? I did what I had to do to give you a real chance at a life and I did it all for nothing,” she chuckled humorlessly again, holding her hands up, “because here you are.” She cleared her throat. “So, do me a favor, leave me alone.”

“I found it,” Raven yelled behind her, holding up the dripping radio from the water.

#bellamy #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #The 100 #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 cw #cw the 100 #the 100 imagines #bellamy blake imagines #theicequeenorigins4

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chasholidays · 7 years

Note

Time travel bellarke. For some reason one or both travel to the past and it was not good. Or anything you want but with timetravel

I couldn’t come up with a historical era for them to go to, so I just made this a Star Trek AU with them coming back to now oops

If and when Bellamy gets back to his own time, he’s going to petition Starfleet to add some mandatory classes on what to do if you’re thrown back in time and/or into a parallel universe, because he thinks generic guidelines and word-of-mouth tips just aren’t cutting it. They need to stop acting like this doesn’t happen all the fucking time.

“At least we’re on Earth,” says Clarke, looking around with a frown.

“I don’t know, Vulcan might be better. If we told Vulcans we were time travelers from the future, they’d probably roll with it and help. This doesn’t look like an advanced enough Earth to give us any help.”

“I think the Prime Directive forbids talking about being a time traveler.”

“Yeah, and we never ignore the Prime Directive.”

Clarke huffs a laugh, and he smiles too. He wouldn’t admit it without some serious interrogation, but Clarke is probably his first choice for a companion in any tight spot. She’s smart and capable and practical, idealistic without being stupid. Which is kind of a problem with Starfleet, in his experience.

“Never,” she agrees, and when the computer finishes its analysis with a ping, she’s the one to go check it. “You want the bad news?”

“No, I like going into potentially hostile situations blind.”

“It could be worse. Early twenty-first century. Pollution levels are near critical, so I’d say between 2015 and 2020.”

“Fuck, we probably landed in the Trump administration,” he says, rubbing his face. “Just our fucking luck.”

“We just need to survive long enough to repair the ship.”

“Yeah, because if there’s one thing we’re great at, it’s ship repairs.”

“You know what doesn’t help? This shit,” says Clarke, mild, but with just enough of an edge to snap him out of it.

“You’re the optimist here,” he says. “But I’ll go with it. So—what’s the plan?”

She looks around the ship, thoughtful. “First step is figuring out if the replicators work and if we have anything we can sell without compromising the timeline.”

It’s as good a place to start as any.

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The replicator works long enough to make them some period-appropriate clothing and breakfast, but given the overall shaky state of the ship’s systems, they don’t want to make anything they don’t have to. They have better things to do with their power; they’re going to have to try to get by on their own.

Unfortunately, they’ve landed smack in the middle of late capitalism with no identification papers, in a country that thinks poverty should be a death sentence.

So that’s good.

And then, of course, there’s the much larger issue, which is that they have to get home, and even if they repair the ship, they have no idea how to do that. They set up a beacon that Starfleet will be able to detect, in case Raven figures out where they went and how to get to them, but Bellamy has no fucking clue how they got here, let alone how to reverse it and get back.

Which is the downside of being stuck with Clarke. It would really help if they had an engineer with them. As it is, all they have is the computer and time.

“And this,” says Clarke, tossing him something.

It’s so small, he barely sees it, but he still manages to catch it, blinks down at the ring in his hands. “Antique?”

“Yeah, a family heirloom. There’s some sentimental value, but I think my mother would understand why I sold it. It won’t be enough money to go far, but we can sleep on the ship, so all we need is food and supplies.”

“Supplies for a ship from two-hundred years in the future,” Bellamy points out. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, just that whatever parts we might need are probably going to be expensive and hard to access. We should maybe be trying to settle in for the long haul.”

Clarke’s shoulders slump. “I know.”

“So–we’re a young couple who fell on hard times,” he says, slow. “You’re selling your wedding ring to help us make ends meet. We should replicate papers now, before we’re worried about power. If we have to, we can probably find jobs, get a post office box–what?”

She’s staring at him, slack-jawed, but at the question, she smiles, shakes her head. “You have an amazingly detailed plan ready for how to survive in the collapsing United States.”

He shrugs. “Have you ever looked into Starfleet records? People get sent back in time a lot. This one works for most capitalist societies.”

“So, you think we might have to stay?”

It’s a staggering thought. The country is on its way to a much needed and ultimately successful revolution, but Bellamy doesn’t really want to witness it.

“I think we need to make sure we can survive here first,” he says. “And once we’ve done that, we can work on getting home. But unless you have an idea for what to do right now to fix the ship and get back–”

“You’re right.” She sighs. “So we’re going native for a while.”

“At least they speak English,” he says. “Come on, let’s go pawn the wedding ring.”

There is something academically fascinating about traveling into the past. Bellamy’s done it before, to an extent, the same way everyone has: in the holodeck, as a curiosity. He never went to this exact year, but he’s been to places like this, in recreation. He knows how it’s supposed to be, and it’s interesting to see the differences.

If he knew he could just end the program and go back whenever he wanted to, he’d probably enjoy it. As it is, he’s too aware of the dangers they’re facing, of how close they are to being found out and detained as illegal immigrants or terrorists or whatever else this regime is afraid of.

It’s not all bad, of course. Most of the time, they’re just living their new lives, taking advantage of their fictitious histories and credentials. Bellamy gets a job at a university, working in the library, and Clarke finds one at a hospital. He never stops being worried every time he sees a police officer, but he learns the routine of it, the same way Clarke learns to keep her head down and not respond when men tell her to smile or whistle as she walks past.

They can’t afford to make waves. They can’t afford to be caught.

“I do like seeing the television programs,” Clarke says, with false cheer. It’s been a month, and she saw her third person die of an injury she could have cured in a matter of seconds at home, and had to turn away someone else because they couldn’t pay for their own treatment. She crawled onto their lumpy couch next to him and curled into his side, and he wishes he had something better to do than just hold her. “They’re interesting.”

“Yeah, it’s amazing how much of this stuff didn’t survive. Apparently they’re in a golden age of television, but I missed most of them.”

“For a golden age, there are a lot of white men,” Clarke grumbles.

Bellamy has to smile. “Most golden ages in history have just been for white men, yeah.” He leans back. “I wonder which of our proudest accomplishments will seem barbaric in three hundred years.”

“It’s not like plenty of people don’t know it’s bad now. And we have an advantage, at least.”

“We might get out of here someday?”

Clarke snuggles closer, which feels like an advantage all by itself. He knew how much he cared about her before, but it’s different now. He thinks she might care about him just as much, for a start. “We know it’s going to get better,” she says.

That makes him smile. “We do, yeah.”

After six months, Clarke starts a countdown to the revolution that they both know is coming.

“We should really get out before that,” she says, and he snorts.

“Yeah, I figured. I still don’t know a fucking thing about time anomalies, though. If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”

“Honestly? I was thinking we could start looking at science fiction.” He snorts, and she elbows him. “I’m serious! I’m not saying we’re going to find the answer we’re looking for, but we might get some ideas. Something we could run by the computer for projections. I’m not coming up with anything on my own, so–”

“So let’s start seeing what other people have thought of.” He shakes his head. “I guess you’re right, it couldn’t hurt. I think you just want to interact with more media,” he teases.

“I don’t just want to interact with more media,” she shoots back, and he laughs.

But somehow, it works. They nearly turn off Back to the Future once it becomes clear that it’s not actually going to help, but the whole thing is fun and amusing, and it’s not like they don’t have time to just enjoy themselves.

And then, in the second movie, the main character gets a letter from the past, the distant past, and Bellamy thinks, well, why not.

“We could do that,” he says.

“Which part?” Clarke asks. She’s already half asleep; her hours are longer than his, most days. And the healthcare system is slowly killing her, he’s sure.

They have to get out of here.

“We could leave a message for Raven. There are some companies that are still in operation, we just have to find one. Tell her where we are and when. Set a delivery date. You remember when we got lost, right? It can’t hurt.”

Clarke’s awake now, and laughing. “I can’t believe you actually got a plan from Back to the Future II.”

“It was your idea,” he shoots back.

“Teamwork.”

He has to smile. “Teamwork.”

They get a zipcar out to the park where they hid the ship, have the computer find a list of local attorneys or delivery companies that are still operating under the same ownership. The computer comes up with more options than Bellamy was expecting, which turns out to be a good thing, because none of the first few work out. Some think it’s a prank and refuse outright, and others agree, but with the kind of patronizing expression that made Bellamy think they weren’t really going to follow through.

At the fifth place, Clarke takes a different approach.

“I know this is a little strange,” she says, “but–we wanted to leave a time capsule. For our descendants, if we have any.” She holds up the package, neat, and wrapped in brown paper. “To be opened on the three-hundredth anniversary of our daughter’s birth.”

The man smiles, indulgent, but not opposed. “So, this is the date we, as caretakers, should open the package?”

“And then follow the instructions to find any surviving relatives of ours.”

“Like she said, we know it’s unconventional, but we had a time capsule from my grandparents, and we wanted to give something to that to future generations,” Bellamy adds.

“Well, I can’t promise anything, of course,” says the man. “No one can see the future, and that’s a long time for the business to survive. But we have performed similar services for others, so if you’re willing to risk it–”

“We understand,” says Clarke. “Thank you.”

They leave a few others, just to be safe, and then it’s suddenly–awkward. That’s the thing about time travel; if it works, they should find out soon. They don’t have to wait for Raven to get it, because sometime in the future, Raven will have gotten it as soon as they left, and even if it takes her months or years to solve the problem, they shouldn’t feel that delay.

All they told her was the day she couldn’t come before, to avoid a paradox; everything else is up in the air, and all they can do is hope.

“I wonder if she can even hit an exact day,” says Clarke. “Or if she’ll accidentally show up three years early or something.”

“If anyone can figure it out, it’s Raven. And she has all the time she needs.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t waste her life trying to figure out how to come get us.”

“We did tell her we’d be fine if she didn’t make it back,” he reminds her. “She knows that.”

“I know.” To his surprise, she takes his hand and squeezes it. “We will be fine, Bellamy.”

“Yeah,” he says. “We will.”

Raven doesn’t make them wait long; they check the ship two days after they deposit the messages, and there she is, repairing the engine like she’s been there forever.

“Seriously, you two had to land here?” she demands, by way of greeting. “There’s so much air pollution I can barely breathe.”

“We’ve been here for six months,” says Bellamy, and then they both break into smiles and hold on to each other together. He passes her onto Clarke, and then it’s all business, Raven getting the repairs done while Bellamy and Clarke have the strange responsibility of putting their affairs in order, quitting jobs and leaving apartments with no notice, only a few steps above vanishing without a trace.

It’s hard to care that much. They’re going home.

Raven brought another ship and more crew to help, and it only takes a day, all told, for them to be redoing whatever she did to get back the first time. After all that waiting, it’s almost anticlimactic. All that worry, all that stress, and then they’re just–home. No money to worry about, no police watching him with wary eyes, just their ship and their people, like it’s supposed to be.

There’s only one thing missing: he and Clarke barely see each other, the first week. They’re together at meals, and sometimes throughout the day, but their duties have never brought them together very much, and after six months of cohabitation, it feels like nothing.

She must feel the same, because at the end of that week, she shows up at the door to his quarters. “I thought we could watch something,” she says, with a small smile. “Maybe some golden age television.”

He laughs and tugs her in. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. “Because I’ve been wanting to kiss you, and if I can’t, I want to know now.”

“I’ve been wanting that too,” she murmurs, and tugs him down.

And just like that, Bellamy’s finally home.

#faramile

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topazy · 3 years

Text

Silent bloom

Pairings: Finn Collins/ Reader Bellamy Blake/reader

Warnings: swearing, and character death

Chapter: 2.03

"They want you. If we want a truce, we have to give them Finn."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Raven asked, stepping forward.

Clarke avoided making eye contact with any of you, "That’s their offer."

"That’s not an offer," you snapped. "That’s a death sentence."

"It’s punishment," Finn squeezed your shoulder lightly as he brushed past you. "For what happened at the village. Blood for blood."

—

Murphy walked towards where Finn was standing with a complex look on his face. "Hey, man. Byrne actually gave me a gun. I guess we really are screwed, huh? Look, we kicked their asses last time. We’ll do it again."

Finn looked at him blankly and said, "A lot of people died last time."

You chewed on your bottom lip as Bellamy and Finn continued talking, completely zoning out. Would the grounders really take Finn as a trade? The thought made your stomach turn. Your biggest fear right now was that someone would betray Finn and turn him over.

Hearing Clarke’s voice, you looked up again, to see Finn and Bellamy walking in another direction.

"Hey," Murphy said, stepping forward. "Any orders for me, princess?"

The blonde glared at him, "stay away from me."

You were surprised at the look of hurt on his face. "Just trying to be helpful."

It was obviously by the venom in Clarke’s voice that she blamed Murphy for what happened in the village. "You were with him at the village."

"I tried to stop him."

"Not hard enough!"

"You know, you want to start blaming people, Clarke?" Murphy stepped closer to her. "He wasn’t out there looking for me, was he? It’s not my fault he went batshit crazy."

He was out there looking for you.

You stepped in between them, stopping this before it went any further. "Enough! Both of you. Clarke, go do whatever it is you need to do. Yelling, and arguing isn’t helping anyone."

You watched Clarke walk away before turning to face Murphy, who looked slightly guilty. "What?"

"I…I didn’t mean it was your fault."

You shrugged, pretending his words didn’t strike a nerve. "Whatever, we have more important things to think about. Like how the hell we are going to save Finn."

"He’s a dead man walking," Murphy raised his hands defensively when you raised your brows at him. "What? I’m only pointing out the obvious."

You looked back towards the fence, and slowly walked towards it as the chanting got louder. You felt a lump at the back of your throat, as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

Murphy stood beside you, "jus drein jus daun, Jus drein jus daun."

"Blood must have blood."

You looked back around to face Abby, and Jaha who were talking to some guards. "You don’t trust them, do you?"

"Do you?"

Murphy scoffed at your comment. Of course he didn’t. Nobody who has been screwed over by them should.

"Well, angel eyes, if we leave it to them, we are definitely screwed."

"Yeah," you agreed. Besides Abby, none of them would care what happened to Finn. "We’re going to need a miracle to happen."

—

"What’s the plan?" You asked, stopping beside Finn.

"The dropship."

Clarke shook her head. "You know that this is the safest place for him right now.”

"It isn't if they're turning on him," Bellmay pointed out. "We can protect him at the dropship until we figure this thing out. Grab your gear and meet at Raven's gate in five minutes. She’s already working on cutting the power to the fence."

Bellmay was right. Going to the dropship would probably be the safest place for him right now. It would also give you time to try and figure something else out.

"Okay," Finn nodded. "But nobody's coming with me."

You frowned, "of course we are. This isn’t up for discussion."

Clarke pressed her lips together. She still didn’t seem convinced that it was a good idea. "We are surrounded by Grounders."

"It will be easier if we split up." Noticing others starting to shout at a Finn you gripped his arm as Bellamy knocked the boy called Gruff out. "We need to go, now."

—

You nervously gripped the gun tightly, praying you didn’t make too much noise as you walked through the forest.

"I know I’ve said it before, but-"

"Shh," you stared at Finn wide-eyed.

He has been mostly silent since you caught up with him, and now wasn’t the time to start talking. You knew by the look on his face that he wasn’t going to let whatever was on his mind go.

"I was scared... when you disappeared. I thought I’d never get the chance to say I’m sorry, and I needed you to know that I love you."

"Finn," you stopped walking and turned to face him. "We have talked about this. None of it matters now, all that matters is getting you through this. We find a way to save you, and then we rescue Monty and Jasper, along with everybody else who the mountain men took." You let out a small laugh, "Who would have thought it would be grounders that saved me from them? "Ironic, huh."

"What were they like, the grounders who took you?" He whispered.

"Eh…good as far as kidnappers go. They gave me clean clothes, food, and water." You let out a sigh, "I was afraid they were going to torture me like they did Murphy."

“You have a soft spot for him."

"No I don’t."

For the first time in a long time, you saw Finn smile, "Oh my God, you have a crush on him."

Him teasing you reminded you what life was like back on the ark before everything went to shit. It made you almost forget when you were in the forest in the first place.

You shoved Finn’s arm playfully, "shut up. I just feel bad for him."

"You do like Bellamy though."

You shot Finn a look, "let’s not."

"He’s a good guy, he’d keep you safe. I’m sure of it."

"And who’s going to keep you safe from me? Because once this is all over, I have no issue raising hell if you don’t stop teasing me, Collins."

"What do we do after the dropship? Where do we go? You think the Grounders will just leave when they find out I'm gone? Is this the best way to help our friends inside Mount Weather? "

You gave him a sympathetic smile, "will figure this out."

The last thing you remember seeing is the horrified look on Finn’s face as a loud yelling came from behind you.

—

You let out a loud groan as you sat up. Looking around, you were confused. The last thing you remember was walking in the forest.

"Y/N," Clarke knelt down beside you. "Take it easy when you sit up. You got knocked out."

Of course you did.

"How’s your head?" Finn asked as he helped you stand up.

"Never been better."

"It will be another neat scar to add to your collection," Murphy shrugged.

You ignored his comment as Finn spoke to you in a hushed voice. "When you went down... I thought you were dead. Because of me."

"Finn," you say softly. "I’m right here."

"I’ve killed so many people."

You shook your head, "things that we've done to survive... they don't define us."

"What if you're wrong? What if this is who we are now?"

Not knowing what to say to comfort Finn, you pulled him in for a hug at the same time that Bellamy rushed into the drop shop. "We got company!"

"Oh fuck. We’re surrounded."

As everyone made their way to the outside of the ship, Bellmay stopped to face you. "I’m glad you're okay. You had me worried for a moment."

"Thanks. But honestly, I’m still worried."

—

"They’re not moving any closer."

"Staying out of range. Probably waiting until it's dark."

Murphy looked up at him, "If we hit them now, at least we'd take them by surprise."

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Murphy's idea made sense. You didn’t like it, but he did have a point. "The problem is, we don't even know how many of them are out there."

Murphy rolled his eyes, "I’m not hearing any better ideas, Daisy."

Raven stepped forward. "We’ll give them something."

Bellamy looked at her, confused. "All they want is Finn."

Raven looked away from the rest of the group, as her eyes landed on Murphy. "Finn wasn't the only one at the village."

"You can’t be serious! We aren’t handing anyone over to the grounders."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Raven, I came here to protect him. You were the one who wanted me to come." A hurt expression crossed over Murphy’s face. "You... That’s why you asked me to come along."

The brunette glared at him. "Enough Grounders saw him at the village. They’d believe he was the shooter."

"Sick bitch!" Murphy spat.

Clarke tried to calm her down. "Raven, you don't mean this."

"You know what they do to people?" you said, stepping towards her. "They want Finn, nobody else. We can’t protect him if we are fighting among ourselves.

Raven ignored what you said and pointed her gun towards Murphy. "They want a murderer, we'll give them one."

Hell no.

You shared a knowing look with Finn, before moving to step in front of Murphy. "Raven, this is insane! Put it down."

"Daisy, move out the way, I don’t want to hurt you. Murphy drop your weapon!"

"Raven, stop this before somebody gets hurt!" You yelled back at her. You knew deep down she wouldn’t actually shoot you, but you weren’t so sure about Murphy.

Ravenstill refused to lower her weapon, "I said drop it."

"Stop! Stop!" Finn pushed her hand down so the gun was no longer pointed in your direction. "We're not doing this. They’ve got us surrounded. The only thing we can do is stay. And defend this place. Murphy?"

"Yeah?"

"Go upstairs with Daisy. You two watch the rear. I'll take the lower level. You three, take the front gate. That’s the plan. All right?"

As Murphy walked ahead, you hugged Finn again, saying, "We’ve got this."

"May we meet again."

"We will." You pulled back from him, "I better go make sure nobody else tries to kill him."

"Yeah. Be careful."

—

When you joined Murphy, he glared at you. "Are you insane?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You stepped out in front of me! Raven could have shot you!"

Taken aback by his yelling, you shuffled uncomfortably. "She wasn’t going to-"

Murphy cut you off, "you don’t know that. Don’t ever do something like that for me again. Ever!"

You turned and faced the other direction, to avoid looking at him. Why was he so upset? You were only trying to keep everyone safe.

Hearing yelling, you quickly made your way towards the other side of the ship. "What’s happened?"

Bellamy looked at you with fear in his eyes. "Finn’s handed himself in."

—

You stood on the edge of Camp Jaha by the gates, squinting. Grounders were putting a large post into the ground. "What is that?"

"It’s for Finn," Clarke confirmed. "They want us to watch."

As others talked about what to do next, you noticed Clarke getting ready to leave. "What are you doing?"

"I’m gonna talk to the commander."

"Okay," you stepped beside her. "I’m going with you."

Bellamy stared at you both. "What else do you have to say?"

You sighed. "I don't know, but we need to try."

Raven stepped in front of you. "Give me your hand. If she won't let him go, kill her. Things will go crazy, and we'll grab you and Finn. Daisy, you and Clarke have to help him. I owe him my life."

Before you had a chance to say anything, Raven slipped a small knife into your hand.

—

As you and Clarke walked into the commander's tent, a grounder stepped forward and pressed a spear up against your chest.

Clarke seemed to know who the grounder was. "We are here to talk to your commander. Let us through."

Looking down, you noticed small drops of blood appearing on your top. The grounder has cut you.

"Let them pass," the commander said before looking you up and down. "You bleed for nothing. You cannot stop this."

As Clarke pleaded with Lexa to spare Finn’s life, you noticed Ada standing guard. When she noticed you walking toward her, she frowned. "You are here to beg for the traitor's life?"

"Finn’s my friend. He did an awful thing, something he can’t undo, but torturing him won’t bring anybody else back."

"He killed Zelda."

"I’m sorry…" you whispered. "It’s all my fault. He killed all those people because he thought they had taken me."

"You can’t save him, blood must have blood." Ada said harshly. "If you try to save him, all of your people will die."

Tears spilled onto your cheek. You turned to face the commander, "can I say good-bye?"

The commander paused for a moment before nodding. You were surprised that she was allowing you to talk to him, but you didn’t have time to overthink it. It was probably because of Clarke anyway. You needed to help him. You couldn’t let Finn die by the death of 1000 cuts.

You rushed towards Finn, and kissed him. "I love you, Finn, I never stopped."

"I’m scared."

You wiped tears from his cheek. "You’re gonna be ok. I won’t let you suffer." You kissed him once again, before showing him mercy. "You’re ok."

"Thanks, Daisy."

Stepping back, the only sound you could hear was your own sobs, mixed with Raven's screams, as you stared at Finn’s limp body.

Season two

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williammarshal-blog · 7 years

Text

Just a Scratch

Prompt: Clarke returning to Arkadia, Lexa visiting months later but is attacked on the way and seriously injured plus Abby figuring out Clarke loves her

I apologise this is about ten years late, but I tried! man, it’s difficult getting back into writing clexa when it’s been a while. I hope it’s okay.

AO3 link.

It had been on Lexa's insistence. All of it. And it began a few weeks ago.

"You should take Midnight," Lexa said, barely looking up from her table. She was frowning at a letter she'd received as Clarke reclined on Lexa's bed. She didn't want to think too crudely (sometimes she still suspected Lexa could read minds) but she'd just had a hot bath. Lexa's maids had pampered her. Even her hair was clean. Hells, even her fingernails. And Lexa was not taking advantage. Instead, she was fiddling around with her quill, thinking of something to write.

Clarke yawned. "Take Midnight where? Wait—do you want me to leave you for a bit?"

"Don't be silly. You're only in a nightgown." Lexa blinked, and finally looked up as if she realised what she'd just said. The nightgown was...translucent to say the least. Lexa flushed, and stared furiously at the desk. "I meant for your ride to Arkadia."

"My what?"

"...Aden didn't tell you?"

"That boy doesn't tell me anything except your favourite flower."

Lexa laughed. "And what is that, may I ask?"

"Nightshade, because it's dangerous, poisonous and deadly, like you."

"He said that?"

"Yes. He's usually right. You're practically his Bible."

"My favourite flower is a carnation."

"Oh."

Clarke decided to cover herself with the furs, ignoring Lexa's self-indulgent snicker. She couldn't shake the thought from her mind. When had it been decided she was going back to Arkadia? She knew her mother and Lexa had been in frequent correspondence, since winter was coming and supplies had to be transported. But she deserved a say in this, and she suspected Lexa knew a storm was coming for her. She loved Lexa, yes, but that didn't mean Lexa could just ferry her about.

"I'm guessing it's a letter from my mother," Clarke said eventually.

"It's...heartfelt," Lexa said awkwardly. Eventually, she gave up and sighed, shrinking back into her armchair. Clarke's heart sank. Lexa didn't give much away, not even when her audience consisted solely of Clarke. It was not like the Commander to give much away anyway. Her guidance in the form of Titus had gone, and Lexa hadn't said a single word about it. Clarke had tried asking Aden, only to receive an uncharacteristically stony response of "I don't know" in return. It was code for "it's none of your business"—but Aden was too polite to say so.

Lexa said it the next day anyway.

"My parents never saw me to adulthood," Lexa lamented from her chair, which seemed all too big on her slim shoulders now. "I was taken to Polis as a child, trained to be the Commander." Trained to be a killer. "I...The closest I felt to parenthood was with Anya. But I cannot imagine or empathise what it must be like to be leagues away from your family. I want you here, Clarke." Lexa did not point to the room, or even mention Polis. When Clarke looked at her, Lexa's fist was clenched over her heart, so hard the whites of her knuckles looked on the verge of exploding from her hand. "Only a monster keeps a daughter hostage from her mother, so far away. You should go."

"You're not keeping me hostage," Clarke said defiantly. "And this is my decision. You can't just send me about as you wish, and neither can my mom."

Lexa fell silent, sufficiently scolded. Clarke didn't need to guess the letter came from her mother as soon as Lexa set the quill down, and gave the empty space that look. It was the kind of despondence she hated seeing on Lexa's face. She was usually so confident and bold, emblazoned by her war-paint. Tonight she was stripped of that, her beauty hidden in the dimness of the room. Without thinking, Clarke crossed the room, shuddering in the slight breeze the open window let through. They had fallen into quite the domestic routine since all hell broke loose following Lexa's shooting. Lexa being Lexa hadn't died; Ontari being Ontari had decided to come kill them all. Polis being Polis defended their Commander until their dying breaths, and Lexa nearly died a second time, of a heart attack, when Indra proudly presented Ontari's head in a box.

Clarke proceeded to be sick on Aden's new boots.

"I want you here." Lexa's voice lowered to a murmur as Clarke nodded. Lexa shifted so Clarke could sit on her lap, and wrapped both arms around her neck. "I want you with me."

"I'm here."

"For now."

"Are you gonna talk about until you die, or something?"

"No." Lexa buried her laugh against Clarke's neck, her hand sneaking up Clarke's night-gown. Her thumb idly traced up her spine, feeling Clarke's skin prickle at her touch. "Clarke, you've got to listen to me." Lexa rested her chin against the crook of Clarke's neck, and peered over her shoulder at the piece of paper. Clarke could already see her mother's name on it, and she read a few sentences. A few was all that was needed to understand. "I didn't want to hide it from you—"

"I do miss her," Clarke said. Her voice was croakier than expected. "I do. I miss all of them." But she'd gotten so used to Nyko and his lessons; she'd gotten used to sparring with Lexa, or Indra if she was unlucky. She'd gotten used to Aden bringing up breakfast every morning just because he knew she wouldn't finish it all and he'd get to eat the leftover bread. She closed her eyes and leant her head back, exposing her neck which Lexa did not waste time in pressing a soft kiss to the skin. She kissed her again, this time gently on her collarbone, and pecked kisses and kisses up the column of her neck. Her arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed, like she would never let go. "This is my home, Lexa. Now it is, anyway."

Lexa hummed against her skin, her teeth grazing gently. Clarke sighed happily. This was her home now. Arkadia was nothing except a few of her friends, but things had changed drastically. She wasn't sure if she could even face seeing someone like Bellamy again.

"I'll still be here," Lexa promised, shifting her face so her nose brushed against Clarke's ear. "I have my people to look after. You have yours."

"I know what this note says, Lexa. My mom wants me to spend months in Arkadia."

"It's good for your people to see you."

"And what about you?"

"I have my duties."

"And after your duties?"

"Excuse me?"

Clarke grinned and twisted to face her, grabbing Lexa's face by both hands. The look of surprise on Lexa's face was surely enough, but the surprised and frankly embarrassing "mmph" she let out when Clarke kissed her made her laugh in Lexa's face. Lexa laughed back and fumbled with Clarke's nightgown, unsheathing her dagger and unceremoniously shredding it to pieces. Clarke groaned in disapproval and then in pleasure as Lexa sucked on her bottom lip, shucking upwards so they staggered to their feet. Clumsily, and feeling like it was their first time all over again, they stumbled towards the bed.

"How," Clarke said lowly, as Lexa's hands traversed up her sides, squeezing her breasts, "will you survive months without this?"

Lexa sunk her teeth into Clarke's neck, eliciting a loud groan from her. I guess I deserved that. "I have hands," Lexa murmured, and Clarke shuddered, trying to erase the image of Lexa touching herself like that. "Lie down. Let me show you what you won't get in Arkadia."

"The winter supplies will be sufficient," Kane said, resting his hands on the table. As the Chancellor now, he'd been focusing on growing their own vegetables—only to find the land a little too radioactive, still, for their taste. According to Miller, one of their potatoes had turned purple. "The Commander has sent more wagons of grain for the space we have to store it. She..." Kane looked down at the letter in front of him, and quietly snorted to himself. When he'd first stated Lexa was a revolutionary, he'd meant it. He hadn't realised he kind of liked the young woman on a personal level, too. "She has promised us casks of Southern red wine, and apologises for the delay."

Abby, seated beside Clarke, laughed. "Marcus—"

"It says it right here," Kane insisted, holding the letter up. "She is genuinely transporting wine. It's dated weeks ago, though, so liquor could be on its way." He tried to sound merry.

"It's better than the piss ale the City Guard lives off," Clarke piped up, and Kane laughed awkwardly.

Nothing had been right since her return. Her mother's embrace was her mother's embrace. It was all-encompassing love and relief. She'd asked several times if Clarke had intended to say permanently, and every time, Clarke had said no. Yet here she was, two months later, still in Arkadia. Her friends had been normal, to say the least. Octavia was civil, which was about as much as Clarke could hope for. She was still mourning Lincoln, and Clarke suspected she hadn't forgiven her for TonDC yet, either. Raven was different. She'd taken it upon herself to be Clarke's unwanted tour guide. The biggest change was her bed. Gone was the luxurious furs of Lexa's bed, and gone was Lexa's smell. In its place was a shabby double mattress in a grey room with blank walls.

They saw her more as a Grounder than as one of them, and Clarke supposed they were right. She still wore Grounder clothing, she spoke about Aden, about Ontari, about Lexa—and guiltily, it had taken her an entire week to catch up with her mother and ask her if everything was okay. She felt like a guest, not like someone who'd just returned home.

Though she could tell Kane wanted to speak about it like an itch that wouldn't go away, they never asked about Ontari, Titus' fate, or Lexa's gunshot wound. What happened in Polis would stay in Polis. Clarke felt as if she'd already infiltrated everyone's lives with enough Grounder-ness. She could tell by the look on her mother's face. It wasn't that Abby didn't understand; it wasn't that she didn't approve of her relationship with Lexa. She did understand. She didn't mind at all. But there'd always be the slight discomfort in the back of her mind. This was still the Commander who'd betrayed her daughter an inch away from certain death. Those thoughts, no matter how Lexa made amends, would stay with a mother. It was not pettiness. It was motherhood.

After the meeting, Raven, who'd clearly been standing outside the door the entire time, wrapped her arm around Clarke's shoulder.

"Not another tour," Clarke groaned. "I've seen enough of the walls."

"Nope. Wait—hey, Dr. Griffin!" Raven called her name about three times until Abby finally turned around. "Any, um, news on finding any painkillers? Any plants of interest?"

"I'm not a botanist, Raven," Abby said patiently. "There's still that other option—"

"Come on, I'd take opium at this rate—"

"Raven."

"If you'll excuse me," Raven said, a little coldly, "I'm showing your daughter around."

"You've been doing this every day," Clarke muttered. "Can you show someone else around?"

"No."

So they walked around the compound, with Clarke careful to slow the pace down just in case Raven's leg tired. Raven, for the most part, made no complaint. She hobbled—that was obvious—but she did not mention the pain. A part of Clarke just wanted to tell her to take Abby's advice. She was the medical professional after all. But there was a silent understanding between them: Raven was just as stubborn as Clarke. The only reason Raven latched herself onto Clarke upon her return was because she knew Clarke would be the only one who understood. Octavia had been distant lately, and Raven's constant presence was not a sign of pain but loneliness.

"We never really talked about it, you know," Raven said idly when they reached the gates.

Clarke fiddled with the iron. "About what?"

"You know, girl stuff." Raven scowled at Clarke's snort. "C'mon, spill. How's sex with the Commander of the Coalition?"

Clarke sputtered, and Raven doubled over laughing, dodging Clarke's misjudged slap. She missed completely.

"Does she say shit like, 'I united the clans!' when she comes?"

"Raven!"

"What?"

Clarke laughed, and then crooked her finger for Raven to come closer. Intrigued, Raven hobbled over and Clarke rested a hand on her shoulder. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She closed her eyes, and thought of Lexa's calloused, beautiful hands racing up her skin, caressing every inch with her fingers, her mouth, her tongue... She thought about Lexa's full lips, and the gentle way she kissed. She thought of the rough way she kissed, impassioned and sometimes heady with wine; she thought of the way she bit Clarke's lip, and the way her fingernails raked down Clarke's back as Clarke fucked her at night. She thought about the time Lexa yanked Clarke up by the hair as her fingers pumped inside her, and she groaned and gasped and came, her mouth eliciting ungodly sounds into Clarke's ear as she shuddered underneath her.

"One time," Clarke said hoarsely, feeling that familiar ache rise in her again, "we went until the sun rose."

Raven withdrew, mouth agape. "Griffin," she said in wonderment, "I'm so fucking happy for you."

Red came weeks later, but it wasn't in the form of wine.

The gates opened immediately as the Commander of Thirteen Clans fell off her palfrey, deathly still. An audience had already gathered, a stunned Kane among them, but it was the Griffins who rushed to the Commander's aid. Indra and Nyko, flanking either side of her, did not look much better. They'd suffered gashes that ripped through their armour, but Lexa had been hit the hardest. Unable to get herself to her feet again, she flopped against the ground, groaning in agony. Gunners immediately fetched a makeshift gurney, but blood was already trickling from Lexa's mouth—and everywhere else.

"Clarke," she rasped, a flailing hand reaching out. Clarke grasped it as the gunners gently tried to lift her. Abby was tearing her armour open, attempting to assess the injury. Clarke needed no medical training to deduce it was bad. "Clarke."

"I'm here," she promised, her voice catching in her throat. "Lexa, stay with me. Stay."

"What did you call them?" Lexa's voice was surprisingly steady. "Guns?"

"Guns attacked you?"

"No. Titus' weapon."

"Yes—yes, a gun."

"When he had a gun to me, I died. But I stayed with you."

Clarke couldn't take much more. Abby's medical instructions to the gunners and Jackson were simply background noise. Her vision blurred as tears took over, trickling helplessly down her cheeks. Lexa's grip on her wrist was strong, but she was as pale as a ghost. "Yes, you did," she said, desperate to keep Lexa talking. Lexa smiled softly at her, and she wanted Lexa to keep smiling. "You stayed, because you're the strongest person I know. You'll stay."

"I made you a promise. I told you that when you returned to Polis, I'd be there."

"Lexa..."

"If I don't, Clarke, promise me you will return. Just for me. Then you can come back here—"

"We're not talking like it's the fucking end of the world," Clarke said sternly, ignoring her mother's scandalised 'Clarke!' "You're the Commander of the Coalition. Act like you united thirteen clans, and stay alive, or I'll kill you myself."

Tough love, she supposed.

Lexa chuckled, and nodded. It was a promise, she knew. It was just the way Lexa worked. As the gunners took Lexa away on the gurney, Jackson and Raven supported Clarke on either side as they traipsed towards medical. Like a disinterested crowd, everyone dissipated, bar the Grounders, who awkwardly set up camp at the gates. Indra was helping Nyko unload boxes and barrels of supplies, Clarke supposed, but she didn't pay too much attention. Abby's words were fading in and out as she spoke to Lexa.

"Multiple cuts, a deep gash to the abdomen—we'll need to re-stitch that—and—do we even have any antibiotics? Just suppress the bleeding—yes, put pressure on it—and—Lexa, can you hear me? Nod? Yes? Yes, okay, we're going to press down hard—it'll hurt, yes—can you—"

A loud yell that sounded angrier than pained pierced the air, and Clarke closed her eyes. She peered through the window to see pure white sheets drenched in red, and she felt sick.

"Talk to me, Lexa. Keep talking. Tell me what happened. Take your time. Take your time. We're here. Clarke's here. You made it."

"I made it," Lexa's voice was weak.

"Yes, you did."

"Outlaws," Lexa said. "I guess. I don't know. No furs. We fought them."

"Okay. How many of them were there?"

"Too many. I wanted...I wanted—"

"What did you want, Lexa? Just—I know this hurts, so just stay with me—"

"I will speak plainly," Lexa said quietly. "Old English."

"You can speak Trigedasleng for all I care, Lexa. Just stay with me."

"Why do you care?"

Abby smiled wryly at her. "Because you broke my daughter's heart and you fixed it again."

"I broke..."

"When your body system comes under attack, your body fights back," Abby said, as she made sure the bleeding was slowing. Jackson entered the medical ward, a handful of anticoagulants ready. "Your body comes back stronger."

"And mine?"

"Not yours. Clarke's."

"Oh."

"It does also mean bodies can be broken." Abby said this kindly, as she administered Lexa the painkillers. She took out the equipment to stitch Lexa's wound; luckily, they were surface wounds. The most worrying one was the gash on her stomach, and Clarke couldn't help but stare at it. Lexa had ridden out for her, and she hadn't even asked. "So if you break my daughter again, I will break you, Commander. Respectfully."

Lexa chortled, wincing in pain as she did so.

Abby soothed her. "Easy, easy. Try not to make too many sudden movements."

"Are you threatening me, Abby Griffin?"

For a split-second, Abby turned to face the window and smirked at Clarke. Disapprovingly, Clarke shook her head. A friendship between her lover and her mother was not something she wanted right now. She knew Abby would prod around their...intimate life, and Lexa would be earnest enough to say something like "yes, we have had bed-breaking sex numerous times".

"Is that treason, Commander?"

"It depends. Will you let me love your daughter?"

Abby's face softened, and surprising both Lexa and Clarke, she reached out to cup the Commander's pale face. The painkillers had kicked in sufficiently so her eyes drooped, but Abby smiled all the same. "You would love her without even asking."

"Southern Red," Indra grunted to Kane as she rolled the last barrel off the wagon. Kane stared in silence. Just moments before, the Commander had dropped dramatically off her palfrey and wheeled off to medical. Indra behaved as if the Commander was immortal. "By Heda's command."

"Are you joking?" Kane asked, aghast.

Indra shrugged. "Clarke Griffin does not like our ale. Blame her."

#clexa #clexakru #clexa fanfic #clarke x lexa #clexa fic

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sowk-fic-archive · 7 years

Text

SOWK ch.28/35

Summary:

The difference between life and death...

Chapter 28 : exaucé

Matthew woke in an empty bed. He wasn’t aware of it at first. He curled onto his side; he rolled onto his back; he threw his limbs every which way, comfortable with the feeling of the soft, dark cotton against his skin. It was the first day in a week that he hadn’t woken up bitter and foul-mouthed and angry at the world. The reason for this sudden contentment escaped him for the moment, but he didn’t particularly mind. He sat up, his blond hair a disordered mess about his head, and stretched his arms. His entire body felt tired and weak and he didn’t know why. His throat was sore: it hurt whenever he swallowed, and-- Dominic. Matthew, suddenly alert, swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up carefully. Panic washed over him in horrific waves. Dominic had left him without saying goodbye, and now he was alone again. Tears threatened to spill over his cheeks as he sat down heavily on the bed, head in his hands. The door to the bathroom creaked open suddenly. Matthew’s head shot up, tears sparkling in his eyes as he watched Dominic (presumably unaware of Matthew’s conscious state) creep quietly across the room, clad in naught but a pair of boxers and holding a towel. Matthew cleared his throat. “Fuck!” Dominic yelped, eyes wide. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, visibly calmer. Though he was still holding the towel as if about to launch it across the room. “Jesus, you scared me.” Matthew let out a quiet giggle. “Sorry,” he said, pressing his lips to a flat line. “I thought you’d left me,” he explained with a pout, arms folded across his chest. Relaxing his grip on the towel, Dominic strolled across the room and sat down beside Matthew, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You have absolutely no faith in me at all, do you?” “No, I just...” Matthew sighed, leaning into Dominic’s embrace. “I thought you’d still be mad at me,” he said in a mousy voice. “I mean, I don’t know... I don’t know what came over me last night. You have no idea how sorry I am. I’m so sorry, Dominic, please believe me. I--” “Shush,” Dominic said gently. “I believe you. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I...” he grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.” “Several times,” Matthew added. “Several times.” Dominic gave a resolute nod. “But now we’ve got over that, we’re stronger than ever. Or words to that effect.” He fell into a thoughtful silence, staring at Matthew with a frown. The Voix stared back at Dominic, taking in the scars, scrapes and bruises that littered his skin like stars in the sky. A pang of guilt settled in his stomach: despite the fact that he had apologised profusely for what he had done, the horror of almost killing the person he loved was still fresh and raw in his head and for some reason it just wouldn’t leave him be. Matthew surveyed the room, Dom sitting before him. There was dried blood on the tiles, smashed glass next to the bed and the sheets were crusted with blood, too. He was sure that the bathroom would be a state, but he struggled to bring himself to care, because in that moment Dominic wasn’t angry with him. “Do I have something on my face?” Matthew asked softly, beginning to feel a little uneasy under Dominic’s gaze. “No,” Dominic said slowly, “and that’s just it. I’m pretty sure I beat the shit out of you last night but there’s not a scratch on you.” Matthew grinned, prodding the glouglou lightly in the side. “Voix aren’t like glouglous. We’re a different species,” he explained with a shrug. “Weren’t you taught all about this in school?” “I’m going to be brutally honest here and say that I never really listened in school as soon as they started waffling on about Voix supremacy. Which was all the time. So, I may have been taught it, but I’m fucked if I paid attention.” Dominic sighed, shrugging. “I regret it now, though.” “Well, fine then,” Matthew glanced at him, smirking. “I’ll teach you all about it.” “I’m all ears.” “Hm.” Matthew nodded, craning his neck to nibble at the shell of Dominic’s ear. “More so than you think.” “Oi,” Dom said, recoiling with a smile on his face. “My ears are my best feature, leave off.” Matthew quirked an eyebrow, glanced dramatically up and down Dom’s naked torso and shrugged. “If that’s what you think, fine,” he said, a crooked smile threatening to spread across his face. “Anyway, Voix wounds heal incredibly quickly. You know that time you beat up Lysander Fletcher? At least, I presume it was you.” “You found out?” Dom gasped, his face paling. “Kind of helps to explain last night, to be fair,” Matthew said, shrugging again. “Anyway, I saw him later that night and the wounds were practically healed. He would’ve had a limp and a wheezy chest the next day but that’s it.” Dominic raised his eyebrows, then he blinked in realisation. “So... it’s impossible to kill a Voix? My efforts last night were wasted?” He sounded hurt. Matthew let out a dark chuckle, shuffling closer to Dom. “Not quite. We can be killed by asphyxiation... you know, lack of air,” he elaborated when he saw Dominic’s confused expression. “Something evolved from destroying vocal cords, I don’t know really. But that’s why I was particularly anxious when you kept trying to choke and drown me. I thought you knew.” Dominic frowned, drumming his fingers against Matthew’s thigh as he thought. “So... if I’d tried with the dagger last time...” he started, unable to voice the thoughts that made him feel somewhat nauseous. Matthew bit his lip, pausing before he replied. “I would’ve been in immense pain, but unable to die. Even if it was lodged in my lung. I would’ve begged you to suffocate me.” He paused, Dominic swallowing hard. “Unless!” Matthew suddenly said in a bright tone, “you managed to successfully cut off my air supply. Sliced throat or something.” “Charming,” Dom deadpanned. “What a wonderful image, there.” Giggling, Matthew laid his head on Dom’s shoulder as the tense air dissipated around them. “Je t’aime,” Matthew said softly. “En ta beauté gît ma mort et ma vie.” Dominic blinked. “So that might have been the most romantic sentence in the history of sentences and also romance, but I have no idea what the last part meant.” “Way to ruin the mood,” Matthew said, the scowl on his face lasting a split second before he was smiling again. He giggled, tilting his head to the side. “I’m just curious, but how much French do you know?” “Enough,” Dom whispered, his voice low, inching his face towards Matthew’s. Dom pressed his lips ever so gently against Matthew’s, the very ghost of a kiss before he pulled back. “But what does it mean?” Matthew blushed fiercely, moving his head away from Dom’s. “Nothing,” he said, looking away. “It was a silly little nothing,” he lied. Playfully, Dominic pinned Matthew down on the bed, straddling the Voix’s hips. “Tell me,” he laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of Matthew’s jaw. “I wanna know. What if it was something important?” “Like what?” Matthew bit back, squirming slightly. “Like the location to some secret underground Voix-party that you’re invited to but I’m not.” “You’re an idiot,” Matthew said. “But I love you for it.” “I’m an idiot? Fine then, Bellamy, you’re a sentimental fool.” Dominic brushed his nose lightly against Matthew’s, relaxing against him slightly, and it was then that Matthew noticed a now-familiar pressure against his hipbone. “I’m a sentimental fool?” he asked, rolling his hips up slightly. Dominic let out a lungful of air he hadn’t realised he was holding in. “I’m the fool?” Matthew said, trying to justify it. “Right, okay. Well, if I was a fool then I’d tell you to get off and go deal with that little problem in your boxers all by yourself.” Dominic scowled. Matthew beamed. “Guess I’m not a fool anymore,” Matthew said smugly. “I’m not the one who gets hard every time you look at me.” “You have sexy... uh, sexy eyes,” Dominic protested weakly as Matthew’s lips pressed to his neck, peppering his tanned skin with kisses as if they were raindrops. “Fuck, Matt, you’re--” he broke off suddenly, wincing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, I’m sorry. It just came out. Sorry. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to say that,” he babbled, the tips of his ears red as he winced. Last time he had called Matthew Matt, the Voix had kicked him out of the room and stewed in his own anger for a week. “Say what?” Matthew asked breathlessly as he wrapped his legs around Dominic’s waist, grinding upwards. “I, uh... Nothing. Never mind.” Dominic shook his head, a barely concealed smile at his lips as Matthew resumed the light kisses to his neck and collarbone. “I want you to make love to me again,” Matthew whispered by Dominic’s ear, kisses now moving upwards to the glouglou’s jaw. “Please.” “Mm, I like the sound of that,” Dominic breathed, joining their lips with gentle pressure and rolling his hips down to meet Matthew’s. He pulled back, grey eyes surveying Matthew, who was lying perfectly still, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. “Matthew,” he said softly, watching the Voix’s eyes reluctantly peel open. “Yes?” “Promise me that we’ll never, ever fight like that again.” “I promise.” “Promise me we’re stronger because of this.” Matthew gave a sad little smile, kissing the corner of the glouglou’s mouth. “I promise,” he said. “Now promise me something.” “Anything.” Dominic smiled, nudging their noses together gently. A warm, soft feeling swelled in his stomach, spreading through his body and leaving him feeling comfortable and warm and safe and, above all, happy. The voice in the back of his head was calm and quiet, and Dominic had to strain himself to hear it, but it was telling him, with a certain sense of authority, that Matthew felt the same as he did in that moment. “Promise me you’ll stay by my side no matter what.” “No matter what,” Dominic agreed with a nod. “Now, was it just me, or were you still showering me with sweet nothings?” Matthew grinned impishly, eyes flooded with lust as Dominic carefully kissed his neck, each press deep and meaningful. “I’m not telling... what I said,” Matthew gasped, as Dominic’s fingers curled in his hair. “You’ll tell me,” Dominic smirked, pressing a kiss to Matthew’s nose before sitting up straight. He shuffled down Matthew’s body, kneeling between two pale legs and slowly pulling Matthew’s boxers down them. Dominic heard whimpering, realising the sounds were escaping from Matthew’s lips. Instantly, the Voix took himself in hand, tugging at his flesh as his whimpering turned into long drawn out moans. Dominic sat back on his heels, whistling a long, low note of admiration. “You know,” he said, going completely unnoticed. “I might just sit and watch you do this.” A few seconds later, Matthew’s eyes flickered open and a blush crept right across his face, following a timid smile. “Er,” he muttered, releasing his now-hard cock and tucking his hands under his bum. “Sorry about that. I just... I’m still worked up from last night. Not like that but...” Wordlessly, Dominic reached for Matthew’s hidden wrist and pulled it towards his crotch again, his actions speaking far louder than any words could. Eyes locked, Matthew’s fingers slowly began to drift up and down his length once more, as Dominic’s hands explored the soft skin of Matthew’s inner thighs. “Dom, please,” Matthew whispered, his voice strained. Dominic watched the tendons dance in Matthew’s neck as his head fell back against the pillows. “I won’t last long.” “Right,” Dom said, hopping off the bed and towards where his clothes lay abandoned on the floor. “Doesn’t mean I don’t need your help!” Matthew shrieked desperately, his ministrations stopping in the panic. “Relax,” Dominic grinned, bending down to rifle in the pocket of his jeans and producing a small tube. “I came prepared this time.” “What are you talking about?” Matthew was getting impatient: Dominic could tell by the taut coldness to his voice. Stretching back into a standing position, he strolled back over to the bed, wiggling the tube at Matthew. “What’s that?” the Voix asked, nervous. “‘S lube,” Dominic replied with a shrug, glancing up at Matthew to see him staring, eyes lidded and lips slightly parted. “You have no idea what it is, do you?” Matthew shook his head. “Nu-uh,” he said, unable to tear his eyes away as Dominic popped the cap of it, the glouglou pushing his boxers down his legs before kicking them aside. “Is it some kind of weapon?” Dominic gave Matthew a stern look before squirting a dollop of lube onto his own fingers. “Lube,” he said, meeting Matthew’s eyes. “Lubrication,” he repeated with a touch of exasperation in his voice. “It works better than saliva.” “Oh,” Matthew said, lying back down on the pillows. “Right. I-- oh!” Matthew sighed, as Dominic’s slick fingers pressed against him. “It’s a bit cold,” he giggled, before it subsided into another moan. “You won’t be thinking that in a few seconds,” Dominic said, a smile spreading across his lips as Matthew lazily stretched his arms above his head. “What do you-- oh!” Matthew whined as Dominic’s index finger slipped inside him easily. “Oh, that’s... different,” Matthew commented, pulling a face at the strange sensation of the lube inside him. “It’s really cold.” “Stop moaning,” Dominic laughed, leaning down for a kiss. “Do you really want me to?” Matthew breathed, quirking an eyebrow before their lips touched and he let out a deep, throaty moan. “No,” Dominic mumbled into the kiss, their lips parting with a wet smack. “I want you to be on top, though.” “Hmm?” Matthew hummed, tilting his head back as Dominic’s lips brushed his chin, and then his neck. He gasped as Dominic added a second finger, biting his lip as he curled the bedsheets into his fist. The sound he made was a high note, descending into a lovely sigh. “I need...” Dominic began, his train of thought becoming disrupted as he watched Matthew unravel beneath him. “No, not like this.” Matthew whined as Dominic withdrew his fingers, before strong hands clamped on his hips and shifted him on the bed. Dominic laid down in the warm groove Matthew’s body had left him, before lifting Matthew to sit astride his hips. “Oh,” Matthew said quietly, running his hands over Dominic’s chest as if he was born to do so. “This is different.” He shifted his hips slightly, their cocks brushing together and Dominic hissing at the contact. “I can see all of you,” Matthew continued murmuring, long fingers brushing over the peaks of Dominic’s darkened nipples. The glouglou’s head fell back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed. “Don’t stop,” Dominic whispered as Matthew’s fingers continued their exploration. Every nerve in Dominic’s torso felt electrified as the Voix’s spidery touch sent shivers bouncing across his taut skin. Matthew smiled to himself as Dominic’s abdominal muscles danced when he played them each in turn. Dominic had felt his touch going south, but his eyes flew open when Matthew’s hand wrapped surely around his cock. With confident strokes, he watched himself be worked by Matthew’s fist, prominent veins in his hand and forearm putting on a mesmerising show as they moved under his pale skin. The sound of Matthew’s quiet breathing and the visual stimuli before him was wearing down on his self control. “Matthew... Jesus Christ,” Dominic gasped, his breath taken away as Matthew looked up through his bright blond fringe at him, blue eyes piercing. “Oh fuck, I need...” “What do you need?” Matthew asked quietly, his angelic voice dripping with innocence. The barest hint of a smirk lingered on his lips, his question punctuated with the sinful sound of skin on skin. Dominic took a shuddering breath. “I need you to ride me into this mattress until I forget my own name. I need you to make me come so hard I see stars. I need you to... to...” Matthew reached for the tube of lube, squirting his hand liberally and immediately resuming working on Dominic’s cock. “Go on?” Matthew teased, and Dominic bit his lip at the husk in Matthew’s voice. With heavy lidded eyes, their gazes met. “I need you to ride me like a glouglou, but make me feel like a Voix.” Matthew gasped, jaw hanging slack as he processed Dominic’s words fully. His movements came to a stop as Dominic’s hands found his hips, bringing him closer on the bed and pulling him upwards. Dominic watched the muscle in Matthew’s thighs tense as he held himself up on the bed, one hand daintily pressing against the light sheen of sweat on Dominic’s chest. “You think you can do that?” Dominic whispered, Matthew’s face tilted low and close. The Voix quirked an eyebrow at him, that smirk spreading across his face again as Dominic reached forward, positioning himself against Matthew’s entrance. He took Matthew’s desperate whine as a yes. Dominic pushed upwards slightly as he guided Matthew down, watching his thighs tremble and facial features morph through surprise to pain to a mixture of the both. As soon as Matthew was low enough to almost sit astride Dominic’s hips, he bucked upwards. “Fuck!” he shouted, throat already sounding hoarse. An after-effect of last night, Dominic supposed. The dark, lustful look in Matthew’s eyes was a much more pleasant after-effect, though. Weight tipped forward, Matthew’s hands were steady against Dominic’s heartbeat as he rolled his hips again. Dominic didn’t dare look anywhere but Matthew’s eyes, the bright blue swallowing him whole and threatening to never return him to the world he came from. And as long as Matthew continued moving as sensuously as he was, he didn’t particularly care. “You look like sin with dark roots,” Dominic murmured, calloused fingers tracing over Matthew’s ribs, thumbs brushing his abs as he guided Matthew in rolling motions, his own hips snapping up to meet him in the middle. Matthew gasped, leaning back so his spine was straight and his whole torso was on show for Dominic’s eyes only. He rolled his head back before meeting Dominic’s gaze once more. “Just wait until I’m a Unique then,” Matthew laughed darkly, voice low and thick. “Oh, fuck,” Dominic whispered, hips involuntarily snapping up harder than he’d meant to, heels digging into the bed. Matthew screamed, immediately falling forward again with his hands flat on the mattress. He shifted his weight onto his left hand, his right reaching for his cock, overlooked until now. “I’m so... putain de merde! C’est... je suis... close,” Matthew stuttered, a shriek erupting from his lips with each deep thrust Dominic’s hips delivered, his body shaking and gasping every time. Dominic’s hands fisted in Matthew’s hair, looking even darker now it was drenched in sweat. The room was warm and stuffy, and their bodies slid easily against each other. Their kisses were sloppy and frantic, Dominic’s hips losing their rhythm as he suddenly gripped Matthew’s hips, holding him still as he drove into him relentlessly, again and again. Matthew’s fingernails scratched long welts down Dominic’s chest as he sang, abandoning his cock in favour of supporting himself against the chest below him. Three loud and long notes of falsetto later and Matthew came, two thick streaks landing on Dominic’s lower abdomen as the glouglou spilled inside of him with a quiet gasp. Matthew could feel the grey eyes on his body as his chest heaved, exhaustion spilling over him in a wave. All of the tension from the last week, and especially the evening before, rushed out of them both, and Dominic felt the tempest of their evening leave his body. Matthew fell against him, Dominic wrapping him in an embrace and running his hands up and down his sweaty back. “I love you,” he whispered, and Matthew grinned. “I love you too,” he breathed, his smile infectious. Dominic laughed, hands moving to play in Matthew’s hair. “That was... just... I don’t think I know a word in either language to describe that.” “I didn’t realise you had it in you,” Dominic chuckled. “You were like... an animal.” Matthew ducked his head coyly. “And now you’re blushing!” the glouglou added, a tinge of aspiration in his voice. He let out a long, shaky sigh, holding Matthew closer and not quite sober enough to care that they hadn’t yet moved, or that come was drying between their bodies. He was happy, and he had a niggling suspicion that Matthew was equally as content. Matthew hummed a tune that ran up and down an octave, eyes closed and a sleepy smile spread across his face as he nuzzled into Dominic’s chest. Dominic ran a hand through Matthew’s darkening hair, as his eyelids flickered open and their gazes met. “You could be the one I always love,” he sung lowly, before closing his eyes once more, still smiling.

#fucking fighting fucking #dw i know it was weird for them to get so 'im gonna K I L L you' all of a sudden only to fall deeply in love again afterwards #but it WILL make sense i promise #also- side note- that bit of Unintended at the end? n i c e

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justalittlebluetiefling · 7 years

Text

Chapter 55: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 55/68 Word Count: 1817 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where everyone goes to the beach... again!

Also on AO3; Start from the beginning on AO3

A/N: There were very minimal edits done to this chapter, so message me if you catch anything super weird that I left in there! <3

Bellamy’s cup was empty and he rolled it between his hands. He considered getting more, but knew he should switch to water. It was better for him to drink enough to stay relaxed, but not to a point he was too relaxed. As long as he was mostly sober, he could stay content with the distance. He could watch as Clarke danced with their friends by the fire and the golds and reds of the sunset played in her hair. He could enjoy the sensation of his heart swelling in his chest with absolutely no desire to act on his feelings.

Their dancing and shouting was so distracting that it took him a moment to realize that someone was in the chair next to him. Gina smiled at him and nodded at his cup. “Do you need another drink?”

He smiled back. “I think I’m at my limit for the night.”

Gina turned to face their friends again, the corners of her mouth still turned up slightly. “Thanks for telling me to come. I’m really glad I came.”

“Me, too.” And he really was. The whole situation was much less awkward than he had anticipated. There was hardly any awkwardness at all, actually. It had been more like reconnecting with an old friend than anything else.

They sat in companionable silence for a bit, only broken by laughter and music in the distance. It was great, until Gina blurted out, “I was never mad at you.”

It caught Bellamy off guard. At first, he didn’t realize what she meant, but he looked over to find her studying her own cup a little too intently. He suddenly wished he had taken her up on that refill. “Well, I was pretty mad at you.”

“You were not.”

And she was right. He hadn’t ever been angry at Gina. He had been confused, hurt, and he spent a lot of time blaming himself for imaginary sleights, instead. Clarke was eventually able to talk him down, even though she didn’t understand the sudden breakup either.

The thought of her made him search for her again. He found her in time to see her throw her hands up into the air and spin, copying a shrieking Octavia while Monty collapsed onto Miller’s shoulder, laughing way too hard. Bellamy chuckled when she kept spinning until she fell into Wells.

“This is what it was, you know?”

Bellamy turned to look at her so fast he swore his neck cracked. “What?”

Gina rolled her eyes, but laughed. “This. You. Clarke.” She gestured between him and the fire. “All of it. I want to tell you why I ended things and it’s making you uncomfortable. When you feel like that, you gravitate toward her to feel grounded again.”

He frowned and looked down at the sand. He hardly felt grounded when he looked at Clarke, but that was beside the point. “You were jealous?”

“No.” The word came out too fast and she sighed. “I mean, yes. A little bit. It’s impossible to not be jealous of you two.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Gina was quiet for a minute. Bellamy glanced at her out of the corner of his eye to find her watching Clarke with a look he could only describe as… fondness; not what he would have expected from someone who just admitted jealousy.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” he said.

“Oh, I know. And it wasn’t you and it wasn’t her. Well, not on purpose, anyway.”

Bellamy stared down at his hands, trying to find the right words, but he didn't know what else to say. It had been over a month since she ended things without an explanation and he had spent a lot of time wondering. Any time he thought it might have been jealousy, he pushed the thought to the side, because she had always been so supportive of their friendship.

Gina shifted and set a hand on his arm. He refused to look up at her and she sighed. “Listen, Bellamy. All I’ve ever wanted is to find someone who looks at me the way you look at Clarke. Someone who listens to me the way you listen to her and trusts me the way you trust her.”

“Gina, it’s not…. Of course I trust her. She’s my best friend.”

“And some would argue that’s a solid foundation for a lasting relationship.”

Bellamy did look up, then. There was no malice on her face. She looked open and hopeful and sort of like she thought he was being stupid. “Some would argue that’s too much to risk.”

Gina sighed again. “Really, I should have ended it as soon as I saw you two together the first time, but I wanted to hold onto you as long as I possibly could.”

Again, he was left speechless. Instead of looking at her, he looked back up at their friends. Well, at Clarke, who was trying to kick off her sandals while O and Raven pulled her back toward the dancing. There was a time he wouldn’t have thought her capable of letting go enough to dance barefoot in the sand. It made him smile, but he was pulled out of the moment when Gina laughed. he dropped his head to look at the sand underneath his feet.

“It wasn’t me ending the relationship out of jealous. It was me stepping aside, because you’d be happier with someone else.” She paused and stood, turning to face him with her hands on her hips. “If you keep pretending nothing is there, none of your relationships will ever work out. Hers, too.”

“I’m not looking to jump back into a relationship any time soon, Gina. My last girlfriend had a hard time with the face that my best friend is a girl.” He looked up and tried to soften his accusation with a smile. Gina rolled her eyes again and was obviously holding back a smile.

“That’s okay. Clarke’s last girlfriend had a problem with the fact that her best friend is a guy. Maybe you two can bond over it.”

“You’re not going to say anything to her, are you?”

Gina frowned at him.

“I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“I won’t say anything.”

The unspoken ‘yet’ at the end of her sentence was tangible. As she walked back toward the group, he started to study the cup in his hands again. Exes that stayed friends were insane, but Gina was a different kind of person. Hell, she was trying to push him toward a new relationship. It was possible that if more people were like Gina, more exes would be friends.

Then again, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to be her friend if she was going to push the ‘Clarke’ thing. It wasn’t something he talked about to anyone, but he might have to convince her that he didn’t think about Clarke almost every waking minute. He thought she might buy it if he admitted that he had a crush on her when they first met and any residual feelings were just… appreciation for the growth of their relationship?

It even sounded like a lie in his head.

The sound of the ocean and the beat of the radio almost drowned out the approaching footsteps. Without looking up, Bellamy could tell it was Clarke. Her steps were always even. They were cautious and full of purpose. When she stopped in front of him, he kept his gaze on his feet. The best and worst thing about being friends with her was that she could always sense when he needed to talk, even if he wanted to drown in self-inflicted misery instead.

After a moment of silence, she dropped down onto the sand in front of him. “Oh, no.” She giggled and he had to look up. Somehow, she had misjudged the distance and it had been more of a fall than taking a seat. “No more spur of the moment decisions for me when alcohol is involved. I’m going to regret this.”

Bellamy smiled in spite of himself. “There’s another chair right there.” He gestured to the chair Gina had vacated. “You’re going to have sand everywhere.”

“Literally everywhere.” Clarke grinned and her smile was blinding. “But I missed you.”

He didn’t constantly have butterflies in his stomach around her or anything, but there were times she said something that made his heart start to beat out of control. Even with the overwhelming flood of middle-school-like emotions she instigated, one second in her presence made him feel more prepared to face whatever was bothering him.

“I thought you might come dance with us, earlier.”

“Oh, no way. Someone has to supervise. You know, make sure that none of you break an ankle falling down.”

“It’s hard to supervise from all the way over here.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “I think we were in this exact spot last year when Raven pointed out that we can both supervise with our eyes closed.”

Clarke grinned again. “Valid point.”

They went back to sitting in silence while pushed herself into a seated position and set her head on his knee. He assumed she was watching the dusk disappear into night over the ocean and wishing she could draw it properly. The night before, they had stayed up way too long having that exact conversation and he could feel the frustration from it in her sigh.

Once darkness had truly fallen, she hopped up again and tried to brush herself off. There was even sand coming out of her hair. “Sand everywhere,” she said through giggles.

“I told you.” Bellamy couldn’t help but smile at her. “What are you doing now?”

“Well, you and Gina talked. You’re sitting here looking kind of miserable and it’s a real buzzkill.” He reached out to nudge her hip with his foot and she smacked it away. “I thought you might want to take a walk, get away from all the noise, and talk about it.”

There was his heart trying to do a flip in his chest again. He tried to tamp it down to no avail. “I was having a perfectly good time watching you guys dance around. You’d probably have more fun with them.”

“Come on. You know that I always have more fun with you,” she said, offering him her hand. When he didn’t take it immediately, she glared at him. “We don’t even have to talk about your drama. Let’s just walk, okay?”

It was hard to imagine a time that he wouldn’t have done anything she wanted as he took her hand and let her pull him out of his chair. He was absolutely and totally screwed. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

She grinned and linked her arm through his elbow, leading him away from the noise. “That’s right. Whatever I say.”

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #modern au #sometimes i can't see myself #my work #erin writes

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