#john blake fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hd-junglebook · 8 months ago

Text

The Other Side

Part 1 - Word Count 2463

Crouched on her tree branch overlook, Y/N watched curiously as the group of five approached the cliff's edge. She was intrigued by these strangers, the first new people she had encountered since witnessing the ship crash.

The boy with long hair moved to grab the rope swing first but was interrupted by another wearing steampunk-looking goggles.

After a brief exchange, the long-haired boy moved back, now standing next to a pretty blonde girl. The four of them exchanged weary glances, silently communicating after they switched places.

The goggled boy backed up several paces, then sprinted forward with a leap, launching himself from the cliff. He swung out in a wide arc, whooping excitedly. At the apex of the swing, he released the rope and landed gracefully on the far ledge.

The group stood in silence watching before they erupted in shouts at the Mount Weather sign. She sat for a moment watching the pure joy of these strangers, hesitating, debating whether to reveal herself. Her curiosity was piqued, but she knew little of their motives or intentions.

The commander sent her down here to gather information with Lincoln, both splitting up as he stayed by their camp, performing a headcount.

Y/N was impressed by his bold daring. She studied the other four strangers, wondering about their origins. They appeared around her age, and wore weird clothing, the material all cobbled together. Perhaps they had banded together after some other disaster or tragedy.

Lexa wouldn’t like any of this, dread filled y/n and she reminded herself that they weren’t going to live long after she traveled back to the capital.

Lexa was stuck in the old ways, never straying from harsh and outdated rules placed by their grounder society. Not that Lexa could change anything, if she allowed these invaders to live, her people would see her as weak, and she couldn’t have that.

Y/N couldn't help but smile as she observed the scene from her hidden vantage point among the trees despite her thoughts.

In that fleeting moment, with their guard down, she saw only vibrant youth, not strangers to fear. She remained hidden for now, but hoped someday their paths might properly cross if fate worked in their favor.

But their happiness was short-lived, shattered by the sudden violence that erupted as a spear was hurled at the unsuspecting boy. His friends' screams pierced the air, echoing with terror. She quickly sprang into action, leaping down from the tree with a soft thump.

Her horse, sensing the distress, whinnied softly as she approached, offering a comforting presence in the midst of chaos. With a swift pat on his flank, both of them set off back to civilization.

With a final glance back at the scene unfolding behind her, Y/N urged her horse forward, their hooves pounding against the forest floor as they disappeared into the safety of the woods, leaving the invaders and their violence behind.

…

“Lincoln?” y/n called out, searching the brush for any sign of her friend. “Lincoln it’s me.” She continued, cupping her hands around her mouth.

There was no reply except for the sound of rustling leaves and the echo of his name. She sighed, weighing her options briefly before heading back to her horse, weaving through the twisted trunks and stomping over the bed of fallen leaves and twigs.

The sound of crunching filled the open space, quickly she grabbed her bow, notching an arrow before scanning the tree line again. Lincolns burly figure melted out from behind a massive oak, his face paint smeared haphazardly across his face from the sweat and heat.

“Lincoln!” she breathed out gratefully, loosening her grip on the bow before stepping forward to greet him. Lincoln stood before her, his calm gaze surveying her from beneath the hooded cloak draped over his shoulders. “I was starting to think you forgot I was coming.”

The barest hint of a smile played across the grounder’s lips. "I am well-versed in the ways of these woods.

It is you who makes noise like a stampeding gorilla." y/n rolled her eyes good naturedly at his teasing. “"Well? What did you see? Anything we should be concerned about?"

Lincoln's expression turned serious once more as he relayed his findings. “I counted about 100 of them. A blonde girl she’s their leader.”

After their discussion, Riss gave him a nod farewell. "I should get back before the Commander sends out a search party for me too." With that, she turned and headed back through the shadowy forest, leaving Lincoln to fade back into his camouflaged surroundings like a ghost.

Y/n strolled through the bustling streets of the capital, the cobblestones echoed with the rhythm of her determined steps.

Street vendors peddled their wares, their voices blending into a vibrant cacophony of commerce. The scent of sizzling street food tantalized her senses as she navigated her way through the throngs of people.

Approaching the imposing structure of the commander's building, she felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of apprehension. "State your business," one of the guards demanded, his tone gruff.

She met his gaze with steely determination, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her hidden sword. "I seek an audience with the commander. It's a matter of utmost urgency."

The guards stationed at the entrance scrutinized her with suspicion until she presented the emblem of her authority.

The guard exchanged a wary glance with his companion before nodding reluctantly. "Very well, you may proceed."

With a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, she passed through the threshold and into the hallowed halls beyond, her gaze fixed on her objective: the commander's hall.

Her steps seemed to melt into the background noise of the bustling corridors, her presence almost unnoticed amidst the chatter. With purposeful strides, she approached the ornate door, its imposing frame a gateway to power and intrigue.

With a soft creak, the door swung open, and she stepped into the chamber, greeted by a gentle breeze that whispered through the open terrace door, ruffling her hair. "Commander," she greeted, her voice carrying respect.

Lexa, seated at the head of the room, smiled warmly, her gaze flickering with recognition. With a graceful gesture, she dismissed her companions, who filed out of the room one by one, leaving the two women alone to discuss matters of consequence.

"Ah, it's good to see you," she began, rising gracefully from her chair. The room seemed to hold its breath as she approached Lexa, her steps deliberate and purposeful.

"What brings you back so early?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

As Y/N spoke, she couldn't help but notice the subtle tension that crept into the lines of Lexa's face. A furrow appeared between her brows, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/N pressed on, her own resolve mirrored in the unwavering gaze she held with Lexa.

"I spoke with Lincoln," she declared, her voice steady, each word carefully chosen. Lexa leaned forward, her expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

The silence stretched, broken only by the soft sound of Y/N's footsteps as she paced the room, the click of her boots echoing the rapid beat of her racing mind.

As she spoke of her findings, the space between them seemed to shrink, the distance bridged by shared secrets and unspoken truths. The dance of words and emotions played out in the quiet expanse of the room, a delicate balance of power and vulnerability.

Once she finished her account, Lexa rose from her seat. Y/N observed the subtle shift in her body language, noting the resolute set of her jaw and the firmness of her posture.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Lexa said. "We must deal with these invaders if we are to protect our city from chaos."

…

Y/N rode on horseback through the lush, green woods, the earthy scent of pine filled her nostrils, mingling with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers.

The sunlight filtered through the forest canopy above, casting a warm, golden glow upon the trail as she journeyed down familiar paths - passing by small villages nestled amongst the trees.

She couldn't help but smile as she passed by, exchanging friendly nods with the villagers who went about their daily tasks. Y/n had been away from home for some time and was eager to return.

The steady clop of hooves marked the miles melting away as the trees thinned. She spotted her modest log cabin in the distance, its weathered exterior a welcoming sight against the backdrop of the forest.

Reaching the edge of the property, y/n hopped down from her steed, her boots sinking into the soft earth beneath her feet. With a gentle pat on her horse's neck, she released him to graze freely, knowing he would find his way back to the stable when he was ready.

Y/N took a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, cherishing the scent of pine and wildflowers. It was good to be back. She hitched up her pack and strode towards the front door, the familiar scent of aged wood enveloped her, a comforting embrace that welcomed her home.

Setting her pack aside, she moved with purpose to the corner where her woodworking bench stood. With practiced hands, she began to carve arrows, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against wood echoing in the cozy confines of the cabin.

the moonlight filtering through the canopy above cast eerie shadows on the forest floor. The night was still. Heading out into the night to gather firewood had become a routine for Y/N, a solitary task that allowed her moments of quiet reflection amidst the whispering trees. Tonight, however, a feeling that prickled at the back of her neck as she navigated the winding path.

y/n began to gather the fallen branches, a sudden sound shattered the silence. The unmistakable sound of running feet echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. Instinctively, she dropped the firewood and reached for the dagger she always kept strapped to her side.

Moving cautiously towards the source of the noise, Y/N's senses heightened, every rustle and snap of a twig magnified in the stillness of the night.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she approached a clearing, the moonlight revealing a figure hunched over, gasping for breath against a gnarled tree trunk.

Drawing closer, Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the figure of a boy, his face contorted in pain and exhaustion. His clothes were torn and dirt-streaked, his hands clutching at the rough bark for support.

"Who are you?" Y/N's voice cut through the night, a mixture of concern and caution lacing her words. The boy looked up, his eyes wide with fear and desperation, a silent plea for help etched in his gaze.

Her body subtly leaned forward, indicating her readiness to assist if needed, while her hands hovered near her sides, poised to react to any sudden movements.

The moonlight bathed them in its silvery glow, Y/N and the mysterious boy stood facing each other in the heart of the forest, the boy steadied himself, before sucking in a breath and speaking.

"I could ask you the same thing.” He replied, the boy's voice was deep and raspy, his words were slow and deliberate, as if he was rehearsing a speech.

Their gaze locked in a silent standoff, a sudden eruption of yells in the trig language pierced the stillness of the woods. Y/N huffed, a hint of sarcasm coloring her tone. "Those your friends?" she quipped, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. John shook his head.

Undeterred, Y/N pressed on, her voice firm yet tinged with intrigue, the trees towered above her, their branches creaking ominously in the gentle breeze.

"Who are you?" she asked, her curiosity driving her forward. The rustling leaves and distant echoes of the forest seemed to hold their breath, waiting for John's response.

After a moment of hesitation, John relented. "My name is John," he admitted. His voice was calm now, yet his eyes were a little wild. He looked like the man who had been on the verge of being killed, his head bowed in prayer.

"I can help you, John," she said, Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked into John's eyes. They were deep and piercing, like two black holes that seemed to suck her in. She couldn't look away, even though she knew she should.

John hesitated, unsure if he could trust her. But the thought of surviving in this harsh new world was too tempting to resist. "Okay," he said, his eyes darting between y/n and the area where the voices came from.

"I'll follow you." He approached her cautiously, keeping a safe distance. Y/n nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face. "Good," she said. "Let’s go."

…

Y/N and Murphy made their way back to her cabin, the shadows of the forest casting long, eerie shapes on the path ahead. "I need you to help me gather resources," she said.

"Food, water, weapons. Whatever I need to keep me alive. And in return, I will keep you safe from my people." She stated, looking back at Murphy as she climbed the steps to her door.

John nodded, his heart racing but he knew he had no choice. "Yes," he said, his voice firm. "I'll do it. Whatever it takes." Y/n could tell he wasn’t sure about his own agreement but kept walking anyway, opening the rusty door and entering.

Murphy hesitated at the threshold, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily, a flicker of fear betraying his tough exterior.

Y/N chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Come on, it's not a trap," she reassured him, her voice warm and inviting. Murphy stepped inside, the cozy interior of the cabin enveloping him in a sense of unexpected comfort.

The aroma of cooking rabbit wafted through the air, a tantalizing scent that stirred memories of simpler times with her family. Y/N moved with practiced ease around the small kitchen, spooning steaming stew into an old wooden bowl before handing it to Murphy.

He accepted the bowl gratefully, the hunger evident in the way he practically inhaled the hearty meal. Y/N watched him silently, her gaze lingering on his worn appearance and the shadows that clouded his eyes.

"What happened to you, John?" she asked, her voice soft yet probing. The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

Murphy paused, setting down the bowl with a nonchalant shrug. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” he replied through gritted teeth. “Let's just say I've had better days."

…

166 notes · View notes

forevermorepassionate · 11 months ago

Text

Bellamy would be rough but Murphy would be mean

#The 100 #bellamy x reader #Bellamy Blake x reader #john murphy x reader #Murphy x reader #Murphy smut #Bellamy smut #bellamy blake #John Murphy #the 100 x reader #smut #drabble #fluff #female reader #smut fic #smut prompts #smut roleplay #smut writing

272 notes · View notes

alienoresimagines · 5 months ago

Text

Rosie : Why are we all here ?

DeMarco, nodding towards Bucky who's glowering : Emergency Meeting.

Curt : Alright folks, let's settle this : raise your hand if you have a crush on Buck.

Curt : *Raises his hand*

Blakely : *Raises his hand*

Brady : *Raises his hand*

Dickie : *Raises his hand*

Rosie, fumbling : Oh

Rosie : *Raises his hand*

Bucky, looking around him with wide eyes : What ?? The fuck ??

Bucky : *Raises both hands to assert dominance*

#need someone to write this actually #or a fic of the 100th showing buck how loved he is and pampering him #clegan #buck x bucky #this is why the buck/everyone can exist on ao3 #i mean can you look at this angel and not be a little in love ?#john egan #bucky egan #john brady #robert rosenthal #curt biddick #richard dickens #everett blakely #mota #masters of the air #mota incorrect quotes

77 notes · View notes

hesbuckcompton-baby · 2 months ago

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 18

AO3

Summary: As the war comes to a close, the future is brought into focus.

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs @blakelysco-pilot

Dear Mrs Higgins

Thank you so much for the tea set - Robert and I think it's lovely...

Frankie lifted an envelope to her mouth, running her tongue along the glue as she finished writing the latest in a long line of thank-you letters still in order from the wedding. The formal niceties felt foreign to her, even to write, and a pile of crumpled paper covered the floor by her bed where she had tossed away a litany of spelling mistakes. Rosie had offered his assistance many times, but with all the supply drops he'd been running, she had no desire to burden him with anything else.

Just as she finished signing the most recent letter, the door to the hut slammed open, making her jump and accidentally smudge the ink. "Oh, for fuck's sake, do you have to barge in here like the building's on bloody fire?"

"Frankie, turn the radio on," George huffed, striding towards her.

"Yeah, in a minute - I've got to rewrite this one now, so-"

"Now," She pressed, getting down on her knees to rummage beneath Frankie's bed. "Where is it?!"

"Over there on the window ledge," Frankie frowned, watching as George zipped across the room. "What's going on?"

"Churchill's making an announcement."

"Oh, shit-" She muttered, letter writing immediately forgotten as they fumbled to set up the radio, perched side by side on the edge of the bed as they listened closely. They had made it just in time, and as the familiar, slurring voice came echoing over the waves, a sense of importance seemed to settle over the room - one so potent that Frankie's whole body seemed clenched, her heart struggling to beat out its rhythm in time.

"Yesterday morning at 2.41am at General Eisenhower's headquarters, General Jodl, the representative of the German high command and of Grand Admiral Donitz, the designated head of the German state, signed the act of unconditional surrender of all German land, sea and air forces in Europe to the Allied expeditionary force, and simultaneously to the Soviet high command."

She felt George grab her hand. The words didn't quite seem real - how could they? Surely, they had been coming for a long time, and yet their arrival seemed so sudden, that it was as if Frankie were recalling a dream - peering through a veil into a fiction constructed by her subconscious, frozen in place as if any sudden movement might break the illusion.

She pressed her heels harder into the floor beneath her feet. It was solid. Real.

"Our dear Channel Islands will be free tomorrow. Hostilities will end officially at one minute after midnight tonight, Tuesday, the 8th of May, but in the interests of saving lives the ceasefire began yesterday to be sounded all along the fronts."

A bark of laughter escaped her, hand rising to clap over her mouth, suddenly embarrassed by the outburst despite being in the privacy of the hut, in the company of no one but her best friend. Beside her, George had begun to chuckle giddily, unable to wipe the grin from her cheeks.

"The German war is therefore at an end. After years of intense preparation Germany hurled herself on Poland at the beginning of September, 1939, and in pursuance of our guarantee to Poland and in common action with the French Republic, Great Britain, the British Empire and Commonwealth of Nations declared war against this foul aggression."

Blood rushed to her ears, the pounding in Frankie's chest so fierce that she almost struggled to hear the broadcast. Her lungs felt full to burst, pressing against her ribs so hard they could snap. Neither woman felt any need to listen further before collapsing into each other's arms, squeezing so forcefully that it hurt. But they didn't care.

There was no one else Frankie wanted to spend this moment with. Not Bucky, not Ken - not even her husband. There was no one she'd spent more of this war alongside than George - no one who had seen her at so many of her worst moments, no one who had brought her through them quite like she had.

This was the first instant they'd ever spent as friends during peacetime. And now they had to decide what that meant.

"I'm coming with you," George's voice came hoarse over her shoulder. "If you're going to New York, then so am I."

"What about Ev?" Frankie chuckled.

She felt her shrug. "He'll come if I tell him to."

Grinning, she held her even tighter. Weren't they all just following Rosie in the end?

"I need to find him," Frankie uttered.

George nodded. "Me too. Different him. Same sentiment."

They didn't let go for a long moment, breathing in synch. Maybe the war had brought them together, but peace was never going to tear them apart.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

An almighty swarm of airmen had gathered outside one of the huts by the time Frankie arrived, having jogged all the way from her own, and the moment she locked eyes on Rosie she was running. Even in the thick of the crowd, his gaze found her without even having to call out, shouldering his way through, beaming so widely that the cool air stung against his teeth. She let out something between a shriek and a whoop, hurling herself into his arms the moment they collided, feet swept off the ground as he spun her once, then twice in the air.

Neither needed to say the words 'it's over' - they knew the other knew, that was good enough. Besides, those words held far too much weight to deal with right now. Those words meant their time here was over - that the future was now.

As Frankie touched the ground again, Rosie's hands cupped her cheeks, littering her face with kisses as she guffawed with laughter. A few of the airmen nearby had taken to whooping and whistling at the sight, and she felt the blood rush to her face, tinting her cheeks a bright red. "Alright, alright," She chuckled, gently batting away his hands as she leaned forward to press a quick peck to his lips.

"Sorry fellas," Rosie called over his shoulder, gaze never leaving his wife for even a moment as he seized her hand, abandoning the makeshift celebration without hesitation.

"We didn't have to go," Frankie pointed out as they walked away, bumping against his side as her free hand wrapped around his arm.

"Well, I wanna celebrate with my wife."

"Oh-ho, say that again," She tittered.

"My wife," He grinned, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. "And when we get outta here I'm gonna buy you a house - hell, I'll buy you anything you want."

"Well, yeah, I'd hope so - we both know I married you for the money," Frankie teased as he ruffled her hair beneath his palm in silent reprisal. They were quiet for a moment until she spoke up again, serious this time. "Dad and the kids don't need me anymore. But... I really loved looking after those kids."

She could feel his stare, fixed on her as they walked. "You been thinking about what you said at the wedding?"

"About a baby? ...Yeah, kinda."

Nerves coloured his voice as he spoke again. "...And?"

Frankie shrugged. "Why not? Yeah."

It hadn't seemed possible that he could grin even wider, and yet somehow he managed it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," She assured him, pulling him into her embrace as his eyes began to well up with tears. Chin tucked over his shoulder, she let herself begin to grin too. "Yeah, honey."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

George's hair blew this way and that as she walked, palms in an endless battle against the wind to smooth it back down again as she muttered to herself, scanning every group she passed for the face she was searching for. Come on Ev, where are you? Many of the men she worked alongside called out to her as she passed, but she was so focused on the task at hand that she offered nothing but the occasional wave, too distracted to properly reply.

"George!" A familiar voice called, an involuntary smile already creeping across her expression in anticipation before she had even pinned down where it was coming from. But then Blakely was hurrying towards her, engulfing her in an embrace so sudden that it was all she could do not to audibly groan. "Ah, I was lookin' for you."

"Hey!" George chirped, holding him tightly. "I was looking for you! I've got something to ask you."

He seemed to grow slightly tense at this. "Yeah, so do I."

Holding onto her cheery demeanour despite the shift in his, she pulled away. "Okay, you first."

Letting out a nervous chuckle, Everett shook his head. "No, no - after you."

"Okay... Look, it's just..." George took a deep breath, hands clasped tightly. "Frankie and Rosie are gonna go to New York together now that this whole thing is done, and I... I wanna go with her, Ev. She's my best friend."

A wave of relief seemed to wash over him as he began to smile. "You wanna go to New York?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

Blakely began to laugh. "Babe, we can go to New York."

A grin started to crease at George's cheeks. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course," He beamed.

"Okay. Okay, yeah - now you go," She nodded, passing her weight impatiently from foot to foot.

Suddenly he was nervous again, glancing around at the huts and men around them as if self-conscious. "Alright..."

Her brow furrowed. "... You ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, just... didn't really plan on doing this here."

George's frown deepened, and Everett couldn't help but wonder how she hadn't caught on yet. "D'you wanna... go over there?"

"George," He laughed in exasperation, digging deep into his pocket as he shook his head. The faintest yelp of surprise escaped her as the diamond ring caught its first glint of sunlight, carefully unwrapped from the handkerchief that had protected it on the long journey from his mother's house.

"Oh, I'm a bloody idiot," She whispered. Raising both hands to cover her mouth, she let out a giddy laugh, beaming before he could even ask the question.

Blakely had begun to grin, pointing down at the ring in his palm as he waited for her to stand still. "Can I-?"

"Yes! Yes." George nodded firmly, planting both feet in the gravel below as she waited for him to ask the question.

"George Aarons," He started, suppressing a chuckle as he noticed the way she had begun to fidget impatiently. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" She cried, her answer tumbling forth so quickly that she almost cut him off completely, throwing herself into his arms as an elated laugh erupted from her throat. Arms wrapped securely around her back, he swept her off her feet for a moment before pulling away to plant a hard kiss against her lips, palms lifted to cup her jaw.

"I love you," George breathed as their lips separated, faces barely an inch apart.

Everett smiled, pressing his forehead against hers. "I love you too."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie practically screamed when she first caught sight of George, entering the party as it raged in the officers' club, new engagement ring sparkling on her finger. "Holy shit!" She yelped, practically hurling herself at her best friend as she hugged her. Chin tucked tightly in the crook of George's neck, she scanned the crowd for signs of Blakely, pointing a finger as he stopped in his tracks. "You!"

"Me?"

"Thank you for marrying the love of my life," Frankie nodded sagely, gesturing for him to come close so that she could pat him on the shoulder without leaving George.

His brow furrowed slightly. "... So Rosie would be-?"

"My husband. Duh."

"Of course."

Rosie had recognised her yelp from across the bar, burrowing his way through the crowds in search of Frankie. "Ah. Hey! Congratulations!" He grinned as he spied George's ring, giving Blakely an affectionate clap over the shoulder as they shook hands. "Mind if I steal my wife for this next dance?"

"Steal away," Frankie nodded, planting a forceful kiss on George's forehead as she retracted the hug, leaving a lipstick stain in her wake. As the couple weaved their way back through the crowd, Blakely let out a snort of laughter, wiping the stain away with the heel of his palm.

"Is she-?"

"Oh, really quite drunk, yeah," George affirmed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I never got good at this, huh?" Frankie laughed, uttering a swift apology as she stepped on Rosie's toe. Again.

"Well, I don't think being good is really the point," He shrugged.

"In other words, you agree - I'm horrible at this."

"I didn't say that!"

Frankie gasped. "You're 'yes-dear'-ing me!"

Rosie's brow furrowed, somewhere between confused and entertained. "I don't even know what that means."

"It's when you just go along with whatever I say because I'm your wife and you don't want to have to tell me I'm an insane person to my face."

"Well, I like my crazy wife," He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek as she hummed a chuckle. They continued to step side to side as the music continued its brisk pace, Frankie's expression twisting with embarrassment as she felt his toe beneath her foot once more, the sight of this making Rosie laugh. "We don't have to keep doing this," He offered between chortles.

"No, I'm gonna do it until I get it right, otherwise I'll get shown up every time we go out," She frowned.

"Then you've gotta do it properly," Rosie said, looking down at the floor as he nudged her feet apart with his own. "Feet like that - you step with this one, then bring them together..."

As he continued to explain, Frankie began to realise that she hadn't been listening to a word, too distracted by... well, him. It was still somewhat embarrassing to admit, but if she stared at him for too long everything else seemed to simply ebb away, his voice fading into background chitter as her gaze traced every subtle movement in his expression, her lip rising in a calm, gentle smile.

For so long, this place had gotten used to firing on all cylinders - always working, always preparing for the next thing - never hesitating, never still. But now? Now there was nothing ahead of her - no planes to prep, no mission to agonise over. She was Just Frankie and he was Just Rosie, and everything else was simply cast aside. It was rare she ever got a moment to simply stop and stare - to take in the man before her and simply bathe in the feeling of how wholly and utterly she adored him.

"No, you've- ...Honey, you've stopped moving."

His voice came into focus once more, and Frankie blinked away her stupor, shaking her head slightly. "... Right."

"You okay?" He asked, brow creasing as he tilted his head slightly, a loose curl tumbling free.

"Mhm," She nodded, reaching up without a second thought to brush it away, her warm fingertips still managing to leave a flush in their wake as they grazed against his skin. "Tired. Little too much whiskey. I'm still working my way through the thank-you letters from the wedding."

"Well, I'll help," Rosie shrugged.

"No, no, you're-" Busy with your missions. The words had nearly slipped out without a second thought. And as a grin began to make its way across his face, she knew he'd predicted them.

"No. I'm not."

"No you're not," Frankie repeated, beginning to mirror his smile. "God, we're about to have way too much free time."

"Well, I can think of a couple things to do," He smirked, making her snort with laughter.

"Shush. We'll do that later. I gotta find Bucky," She beamed, giving his arm a tug as she pulled out of his grip, squeezing his hand as she turned away.

Rosie's brow furrowed. "I thought we were dancing?"

"Later!"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Flares illuminated the night sky as Bucky sat back in his seat, watching on idly from his perch up on the command tower. Back when this had all started, he would've been inside with the others without a moment's hesitation, drinking and singing and making merry like all the rest. But these last two years had changed him, and that tug in his chest that had once compelled him on nights like this had gone limp.

At least one thing had always stayed the same.

"You fellas need some more booze up there?"

His lip curled in an involuntary smile, craning forward in his seat to peer over the railing. Standing in the grass below, profile brightened in the flickering light of the flares, Frankie stared up at him, a bottle in each hand.

"Get up here, Bevan!" Gale called beside him, letting out that deep, hearty laugh of his. She flashed a grin, the thunder of footsteps rising towards them as she dashed up the stairs, occasionally stumbling from an overindulgence of alcohol.

"Figured you'd be all over your husband tonight, all things considered," Bucky teased, edging over to the edge of his seat so that she could perch beside him.

"He gets me every other day. You and me gotta catch up on lost time."

He smiled, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she popped the cork on the champagne she had stolen, letting out a yelp as bubbles flowed over the brim, covering her hands.

"Before we make any more of a mess, I'm gonna see if I can't find us some glasses," Gale chuckled, stepping around the small puddle of champagne that was forming as he made his way to the door. "You can have my seat, Frank."

"Thanks," She uttered, squeezing Bucky's hand with hers and leaving a sticky palm print behind as she slid off the edge of his chair, sinking into the other.

Left alone, the pair sank into quiet for a long moment, listening peacefully to the cheers and music that hummed steadily from further down the runway.

"How's it feel?" He asked after a while.

Frankie let out a huff of amusement. "Completely, utterly bizarre. I mean... everything in my life changed because of this war, and now it's just... over."

"Which is a good thing. Right?"

"Oh, of course, yunno... I lost family to this thing. Almost all the boys I grew up with are dead now. But then, almost all the best people in my life, I only met because of this war. Hell, I'm married now - I can't just go back to how it was before."

Bucky let out a long sigh, nodding along as she spoke. He stared at the floor for a while, before finally speaking up.

"Y'know... It's gonna sound stupid, but for a little while back then, at the beginning, I kinda thought you and me..."

"Yeah, I know," She nodded, a beat passing before she reached across to grab his hand, holding it in her lap.

They were silent for a moment, letting the weight of Bucky's confession rest between them.

"Your hands are really sticky."

"They are covered in champagne," Frankie snorted, letting out a cackle as Bucky wrestled his hand from her grip, wiping it clean against her skirt. "Oh, you bastard."

"That's what you get."

As their laughter trailed to a stop, she found herself sobering, taking a deep breath.

"Promise me you're not gonna be alone after this. Promise you'll call and visit and find a nice girl to marry, and you won't let yourself go home to an empty house forever."

A flicker of something like adoration crossed his expression.

"Promise."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Gravel crunched beneath Frankie's feet as she finally returned to her hut, the energy that had carried her through the night steadily dwindling. Scrunching her eyes shut as she yawned, a frown began to crease her cheek as her vision readjusted, noticing the door to the hut as it gaped open, exposing the interior to the darkness.

Creeping up towards the entrance, brow furrowed, she tapped her knuckles gently against the doorframe, peering inside. There was only one light in the whole place, and in the warm glow, she could make out a familiar silhouette.

"... Honey?"

Rosie looked up from his spot on the edge of her bed, pen clasped between his fingers as he began to smile at her. "Hey, baby."

She let out a bemused chuckle, stepping inside. "... What're you doing?"

Shrugging, he raised one of the thank-you letters she'd been working on. "You said you needed help with 'em."

Frankie sighed, beaming as she came to stand in front of him. "I didn't mean right now. You should be at the party."

"Party got boring."

"It didn't sound boring."

"You weren't there."

The admission was so earnest that she swore something inside her melted, lifting both hands to loop around the back of his neck. Casting the cards aside, he stared up at her, arms draped around her waist.

"Now I am."

She pressed a long kiss to his scalp, cradling his head in her palms. Rosie let out a satisfied sigh, his thumb rubbing circles against her hip.

"Let's get outta here," He said.

Frankie's brow arched in amusement. "And go where?"

There was a glint in his eye. "Get us a room at the pub?"

"It'll be full by now."

"Well... I did call ahead."

She gasped teasingly. "Oh, you're good."

Rising to stand, he tugged one of her hands away from his neck, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. He had that look in his eyes, the kind that made her cackle and go terribly red all at once.

"You have no idea."

#fic | i'm your man #mota oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #oc: frankie #rosie rosenthal #oc: george #everett blakely #john egan #frankie x rosie #george x blakely #mota

41 notes · View notes

bloodreinasbathwater · 5 months ago

Text

The 100 Masterlist

this is just a remake, all of my old Bellamy Blake x Reader are discontinued because I am making a brand-new fic, everyone has seemed to find my work overtime and it feels wrong to not make new the 100 based work.

Neutral

Bellamy Blake x Reader

Diana Sydney's daughter is sent to the ground with 99 other delinquents. While her mother schemes for power and destruction aboard the Ark, y/n must navigate the harsh realities of survival on the ground. As she confronts her own trauma and struggles to define her morality in the face of chaos, she grapples with the ultimate question: Will she rise above her past and choose the path of goodness, or will her mother's influence shape her destiny and lead her down a darker path?

Season 1

Part 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 6.5 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10

Edge Of Exile

Bellamy Blake x Reader

As the ark struggles to establish a new home on Earth, Y/N, a prisoner from flint station seems to be the only one who can save them from themselves. the group finds themselves thrust into a dangerous power struggle that threatens to tear the community apart. Faced with betrayal, deceit, and factions vying for control, Y/N must navigate a treacherous landscape of alliances and rivalries.

parts - prologue, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 12

In the Bunker

will come come back to finish this

The Other Side

John Murphy x Reader

A grounder marked as a spy for the commander is tasked with the case of gathering intel on a group of survivors that fell from the sky. Falling for a member of this foreign group leads the clan into bloodshed.

Part 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5

125 notes · View notes

she-who-the-river-could-not-hold · 3 months ago

Text

Make a Lot of Money and Feel Dead Inside

written by @kinetic-elaboration – for Troped Time Loop 2023: Round 2 @troped-fanfic-challenge Multi-Pairing/General | Rated: M | Theme: Halloween | Tropes: Time Loop, Murder Mystery, Multiple POVs, Fake Dating, One Character is an Author | Chapters: 5/5

For many years, before being bought by adventurer, survivalist, and author Octavia Blake, the house at the edge of town sat empty…

On Halloween, eight old friends gather in a Victorian manor house for their annual reunion. As the night wears on and a heavy storm breaks, stories are shared, accusations are made, spirits are contacted, and secrets come to light. Before the clock strikes midnight, one of them will be dead.

The other seven will be left to wonder: who among them is the killer?

And then Halloween will begin again. And again and again, until the mystery is solved and the murder averted at last.

READ ON AO3 Playlist | Listen on Spotify

#the 100 #the100edit #the100daily #the 100 au #the 100 fic #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #octavia blake #john murphy #kathryn designs #kathryn designs: the 100 #my creations

32 notes · View notes

winniemaywebber · 3 months ago

Text

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 8

james douglass x olive lewis

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

masterlist ao3 olive's playlist

notes: a little heavy petting 🤭

Something big is brewing on base, the Brass keeping their cards close to their chest. The Red Cross Girls navigate their way through revelations, chance meetings and feelings from the past that rear their ugly head.

Despite the very few hours of sleep she had gotten, the sun rising over the beautiful Suffolk fields as the gang had all congregated in the cool morning air in celebration of no longer being a fractured bunch, Olive felt refreshed.

The group had left the club in the early hours to see the sun rise, telling each other that the lack of sleep would be worth it. The gang, joined by Curt’s co-pilot Dickie, sat on the surprisingly soft grass of the airfield in a gentle silence. The sweet countryside air whipped all around them, Olive finding warmth tucked inside of Dougie’s jacket, his arm around her as she snuggled into him. She laid her head on his shoulder, him smiling as she stroked his face. The fiery hues of the morning sky brought out the beautiful blue of his eyes, Olive practically falling into them as the two of them seemed to slip into their own little world. It was at this moment she realized; she was falling in love with him. It had hit her like a freight train, the thought causing her to gasp out loud.

“Okay, doll?” James asks, holding her even closer to ward off the cold.

“Never better, honey.”

—

The early start came with the beginnings of a headache from lack of sleep. However, Olive found herself extremely peppy for this time of the morning. She, along with Tattie, had gone about most of their morning duties occasionally exchanging quiet conversation and Tattie preparing herself for her impending hangover. “It doesn't knock you on your ass if you don't go to sleep,” she laughs, wincing at the sound of her own voice.

“You didn't sleep? Jesus Christ, Spaatz. You mad bugger.”

“There was no point,” she replies, beginning to daintily arrange donuts on a tray. “By the time I'd have got myself into bed, it would have been time to get up again. There,” she says, placing the tray on the counter. She lights two cigarettes, handing one to Olive before pouring them a cup of coffee each. “This'll perk us up, kid.”

A bark echoes through what feels like the whole air base, Olive and Tattie both jumping at the sound of it. “Hold on to your hats,” Tattie smiles. “Here comes trouble.”

“Oh, yeah! He's brought Meatball with him too!”

Benny strolls up to the Clubmobile alongside Meatball, stifling a yawn as he approaches.

“Demarco!” she cheerfully greets, pouring him a coffee before he even has a chance to ask. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Meatball was crying for the bathroom, then I saw Lemmons while we were out there. Said he needed me to look over something on Our Baby.”

“Ah,” she nods. “Leave the good boy here with me. It seems pretty easy out here today, so it's no bother.”

“Thanks, Ol. Hey, everything worked out now?”

“Oh, yes,” she blushes. “Everything smoothed over. What about you?” she enquires, eyebrow raised. “You set him straight?”

“Too right. I made it clear that it's only him you care for in that way. I told him that if he thinks he saw what he thought he saw, he should've asked me; I also told him that if he ever made you cry again, he'd pay for it. He got a little sheepish at that.”

“Christ,” she whispers, shaking her head in amusement.

“Hey, no hard feelings. We shook hands, back to being pals. No harm done.”

“Well, if you say so. Here,” she says, placing another two cups of coffee and a few donuts in front of him. “One for you, the coffees and other donuts are for Kenny and Wink.”

“Thanks. Run over and grab me if the dog is too much trouble.”

He turns on his heel and departs, Meatball barking incessantly as his person walks away from him without so much as a pat goodbye.

“Benny!” Olive shouts. “You forgot something!”

—

“Good morning boy, hi!” Olive hears, seeing Meatball perk up instantly with his ball in his mouth, expecting playtime at the sight of more people walking up to the Clubmobile. Val bends down to pet him, scritching at the dog's ears as he drops the ball at her feet and pants happily in her face. “Did you have a nice snooze?”

“He snoozed more than any of us, that’s for sure.” Helen says, rolling her eyes and smiling.

“When I checked last night, you were snoozing on top of Dickie,” Olive smiles, cheekily pointing at her friend with a triumphant grin.

“He was closest,” Helen grumbles. “And Tattie took the dog.”

“Surprised Benny didn’t put up more of a fight for him honestly,” Tattie says, stubbing out her cigarette and turning to begin spot cleaning the counters.

Mentioning Benny's name seemed to be a careless mistake. At the mention of his name, Meatball leans forward and begins howling, Cleven’s assumption once again being proved right.

“That wolf is part dog,” he had grumbled to Olive, a few days after their first meeting. Seeing her love on him, he crouched down beside her and told her all about how he'd come to be the group's mascot.

“Benny won him,” he laughed, holding a hand out for the dog to sniff at. “Craps.”

“Probably the luckiest win of his life,” Olive had replied, nuzzling into Meatball for warmth. “Wait, how did you get him here all the way from Greenland?”

“He flew with us. Howled the whole darn way, Lewis. It was unbearable, let me tell ya.”

“I'll bet,” she had said, raising her eyebrows.

“Benny joked that his dog was part wolf,” he pauses, standing up and wiping his hands on his slacks. “I said that wolf is part dog.”

“Okay, Meatball, shhh.” Olive crouches down to ruffle the fur between his ears in comfort, when suddenly, the dog mistakes her loving on him for playtime and jumps up onto her, pushing her to the floor.

“Oh, Meatball!” Val laughs, unable to pull him off Olive and help her friend as he continues to lick her face. Through the chaos, laughter and struggle, a familiar voice booms across to them, with Everett Blakely following closely behind.

“Wow, and here I thought I was the only fella who got to smother you in kisses!” Dougie’s voice calls out as he walks up the path to the Clubmobile, a smirk about his lips. He seems to have woken up incredibly happy, a jaunty little pep in his step as he walks up to greet everyone.

“Fella, yes,” Olive looks up at him from her place on the ground, his blue eyes softly boring into her. “But he’s not a fella, he’s a Meatball.”

“Well, then he’s the only Meatball who gets to smother you in kisses.” Dougie approaches the dog, gently tugging at his collar to get him off Olive and helps her stand, his hand stroking hers as he does so.

“Did anyone get any sleep last night?” Dougie questions everyone, looking at their exhausted faces as he helps Olive dust off, tickling her playfully as he does so.

“James!” she shrieks, playfully swatting at him.

“Barely,” Val sighs, answering his question through Olive’s giggles. She moves slightly, joining Ev and snuggling into him. “I can’t remember the last time I stayed out all night like that.”

“Had to be sometime before the war…” Ev sighs, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Somehow it always involves Curt.” Val groans, her back turned to the path the aforementioned man is now sauntering down.

“Hey, yous guys!”

“Talk of the devil…” Val begins.

“And he shall appear,” Olive and Helen finish, climbing into the truck and pouring coffee for those who have now congregated around the area. They hand out the cups, now knowing each coffee order by memory. If anything proved how close these girls had gotten to these men, it was this very thing. Sometimes, all these men needed was a silent nod and a wry smile as a perfectly warm beverage and donut was set in front of them without a word. All the girls could do was hope they were able to make the same coffee the next day, hoping more than anything to keep seeing these familiar faces, just as the men wanted to see theirs.

“Ol, Harding wants to see me. Not sure what it's regarding but I'd better get there al momento. Curt says he'll be on Meatball duty but–”

“Yeah, he'll sod it off after five minutes,” she titters. “Need one of us to go with?”

“Ev is giving me a hand, thanks, doll.”

“I'm sure he is, you cheeky pair.”

“Leave it, English,” she scolds with a wink, surprising her with a kiss on the cheek. “Be back soon, ‘kay?”

“Tell me what it's about when you're back! I may be sleepy but I am still nosy!”

—

“Mail's here!” Tattie yells, wafting a letter in front of Olive's face. She takes it from Tattie’s fingers with a smile, and takes in the unfamiliar penmanship written upon the envelope. It feels thick, the paper creaking slightly as she squeezes it to survey its contents without needing to open it. Not able to keep herself waiting any longer, she rips it open with her thumb and removes six thick pages, tied with ribbon, along with a single sheet of paper that's been beautifully folded into three. Setting the wad of paper to the side for just a second, she quickly scans the letter: your friend, Juliet.

“Aw!” Olive says, stuffing the papers back in the envelope they arrived in. “Brady's girl wrote me back. That's so sweet.”

“What you got there?” Dougie asks, stuffing a second - or was it a third? - donut into his mouth, looking at the huge stack of papers in Olive’s hand. She opens it, a huge smile spreading across her face, causing her cheeks to glow a little. Dougie feels his breath catch in his throat as he sees her eyes light up, quickly taking in the first three pages. It's the dimple in her cheek as she grins, the way her eyes sparkle and crinkle as her cheeks lift, the subtle glow of them, too. He clears his throat after realizing he's been holding his breath, a hand out towards Olive.

“I've got a few minutes. You wanna go somewhere quiet and read that?”

“I'd love to! Helen?” She calls, turning her head to find her friend. “You good here? I wanna go read this,” she says, gesturing to the thick pages in her hands.

“Gosh, yes!” she cries, beginning to pour herself a coffee. “Take your time. I'll have Meatball bark if I need you!”

—

Sitting on her bunk with a sigh, she pats the space next to her. “Are you staying?” she asks Dougie, who is standing awkwardly by the door.

“Am I allowed in here?”

“It's just me, so, yes, I'd say so. Don't be trying to come in when we're all in here though; it gets a little cramped.” She pats the blanket again, hoping he takes the hint. “Come sit, darling.”

He finally begins walking towards the bunk, swiping up Val's copy of Screen Romances as he reaches Olive. “You think she'll mind?” he asks, holding it out toward her. Smirking, she shakes her head, beginning to open the letter again. Dougie sits down next to her as gently as he can, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. Her head falls on to him right away, as if his shoulder was always its safe place.

“How long do you have?” she murmurs, looking up at him from where she's laying.

“I've got a little while,” he smiles, opening the magazine right at the gossip column. “How ever long you need, Ollie.”

She whizzes through the essay, her head on Dougie’s shoulder the whole time as he flips through the magazine, letting out little gasps and even an “ooooh!” when he reads about Clark Gable's latest exploits. Olive folds the papers back together and ties them with the ribbon they came with, smoothing out the silk as she ties it as neatly as she can, trying her best to replicate Jules’ expert handiwork. She looks over at Dougie, shifting slightly under his arm so she can sit up. He doesn't realize she has moved at first, his eyes still on the page and his brow furrowed in concentration. She smiles softly at him, trying her best to take in every detail of his sweet face.

“You're so into the gossip in that magazine, huh?” she asks, breaking the silence. He jumps, face now turning toward her. “Gossip queen.”

“What can I say? I like to be in the know,” he laughs.

“That's just called being nosy, my love.”

“Yeah,” he blushes, taking her hand. “But you know you love it.”

“I do,” she sighs, her face coming towards his to kiss him as her eyes flicker down to his plush lips. She kisses him gently, her heart growing lighter as he smiles down at her. She doesn't pull away right after, and he isn't about to let her. His hand gently tilts her chin up to him and their lips meet again, the both of them softly falling into each other with a sigh. He delicately strokes down her chin to gently grip the side of her neck, an action that causes her to gasp and push her tongue into his mouth. A breathy moan leaves his lips as she kneels - never breaking the kiss - and places a leg on either side of his lap. Her hands wander up to his cheeks, letting them take in his features without needing to open her eyes as his hands fall to her waist, gently squeezing and stroking each curve he can reach over her clothes. Sighs and moans pass between their lips, both of them fighting the urge to not get totally lost in it, a whine of displeasure leaving her as he pulls back to catch his breath.

“Ollie,” he whispers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You're so pretty.”

That does it for her. She quickly closes the distance between them, tugging on his shirt to bring him impossibly closer, intent on getting the very thing her body craves from him the most. The warmth of his body touching hers, the way he touches her: being so gentle with her that it was like she was something precious and made of fragile porcelain. Her mind recounts previous kisses with previous people and she is sure it’s never felt this good with anyone else, nor has anyone else treated her so lovingly. She sighs back into him, pushing her hips into his.

She's not sure how long they stay like that, herself pulling away to catch her breath. The rule, it seemed, was that she was allowed to do that and he wasn't. Either way, she hated losing the time but loved the split second of taking in his half lidded eyes, as if he were in some kind of dazed state. His expression made a warmth erupt within her, her lungs filling with a contented sigh. She couldn't get enough of knowing she had got him into this state and only she was ever going to make him look like this.

She adjusts herself on his lap, feeling him rock hard underneath her as she sits back down on him. As she moves, a hearty moan leaves him and his breath hitches and she begins to slowly rock on top of him.

“Aaah,” he sighs, his hands now in her hair as he pulls her face away from his. He sees a worried expression flash across her face, her kiss swollen lips beginning to pout as he holds her hips still.

“Why did you stop me?” she asks, intertwining her fingers with his. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no! God, no,” he urges. “I really really want to do this. But I don't want it to be some quick thing where we don't take our time. You deserve better than that.”

“I don't care,” she whimpers, planting urgent kisses all over his face and neck as he laughs.

“I do,” he sighs, kissing her back once she breaks away. “I can't give you the time you deserve right now. I wanna do this right, take our time. Show you how you should be treated. Okay?”

“Fine,” she pouts, her eyelids blinking up at him.

“Hey, don't be like that, angel. Soon, I promise. Pinky promise,” he says, joining their pinky fingers together and kissing her hand.

A tap, tap, tap on the window pulls them out of the moment. They both turn towards the window and see Ev standing out there, urging Dougie to go to him, Dougie patting Olive's behind to get her off his lap. “Give me a second, honey,” he says quietly, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead as he gets up off the bed.

Olive watches them through the window, Dougie's eyes widening slightly with whatever information Ev seems to be relaying to him. She sees his shoulders droop slightly before Ev pats one of them, beginning to walk towards the hut, and gesturing by pointing at the door for Olive to let him in. She gets up off her bunk, placing the letter on the small desk next to it and walks towards the door, opening it quickly.

“You can open it yourself, Ev,” she laughs, smoothing her hair down quickly.

“How was your, uh, reading?”

“Educational, thanks,” she replies, blushing and giggling.

“Can't believe that guy got to sneak in here before me,” he complains, shaking his head and pulling a small sheet of paper from Val’s stationary.

“Maybe you're not picking the right moments, Blakely. What are you doing?”

“Leaving a note for Val, English.”

“You're so sly,” she pokes, reading it as he places the small sheet of paper on her pillow. She catches sight of the last line and gasps, almost squeals, in fact. Love you.

“Don't let that slip before I can, Ol.”

“Don't know what you mean, Everett,” she winks, nudging him with her elbow into his ribcage. “I promise I won't tell her before you do.”

“Good. Then I promise to not tell you before Dougie does.”

She processes what he has just said. What did that mean?

“Ha ha, yeah, good one.” She stumbles over each word, her mouth drying as her hands clam up. A false laugh tumbles from her lips as she rushes towards the exit, finding Dougie still outside and waiting for her and Everett.

“Everything okay?” he asks, her hand finding his instantly. She feels him relax into her touch, his face softening as she silently comforts him. She pulls him towards her and holds him close, breathing him in as she savors the words that have just been said. “I promise to not tell you before Dougie does.”

“I've gotta go,” he sighs. “We're taking the new boys on a practice run.”

“New boys?” she questions, realizing that was why Val was beckoned by Red and Chick earlier.

“Yeah, replacements came in today. Ev says they seem a little nervous, but–”

“Hey, you've both got it,” she says, pulling him close. “You'll lead them through,” she soothes, beginning to stroke the back of his neck. “I know it.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I'll be back later, okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, kissing his cheek. “Be safe, all of you. Especially you.”

—

Olive spots Tattie leaning against the vehicle, smoking a cigarette and deep in conversation with Jack Kidd, Tattie breaking into peals of laughter at something he has said. Olive subtly looks between the pair of them, him smiling down at Tattie as laughter rises from her throat. She sees his whole face light up with joy as he watches her laugh, the first time she has seen him without a scowl upon his face. The air somehow feels different between them, and Olive finds it best to not disturb that.

She feels a wet nose poking into her leg and turns around to see Meatball sniffing at her incessantly. “Hey, buddy,” she says, leaning down to pet him and making kissy faces at him.

“Hey, kid,” greets Tattie, making Olive jump slightly. “Val and Helen are tidying up after greeting the new guys, so we're on Meatball duty.”

“I guessed. Ev had to come grab Dougie from me so they could go on their practice run,” she shrugs. “Curt just go too?”

“Jesus, no,” she laughs. “He gave up on doggy daycare after five minutes.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she replies, smiling. “What do you need me to do?”

“There's a load of donuts we need to get rid of before they go stale. Know anyone on the ground that would be interested?”

“Seems I know just the guys, Tat. You parcel them up and I'll take Meatball over to the hardstands to see Kenny and Wink. This dog needs a run around anyway.”

—

The sun tucks itself behind the clouds, the skies graying as the afternoon passes slowly. It seems that British summer time never changes, Olive thinks to herself as loads up a tray with coffee and donuts for the ground crew. Placed in the middle was a paper bag stuffed full of donuts, the bag being found by Tattie as she rifled through the last of the day’s newspapers.

“Ah,” she declared, somehow expertly turning it inside out without ripping it, so as not to get newspaper ink on the baked goods.”Just perfect,” she had said, a half smoked Lucky Strike hanging from her red lips. Without warning, the smoke had risen up from the cigarette and crept its way into her eye, her hand instantly clamping over it as a single tear ran from the lid. “Darn it!” She had shrieked, whipping a cloth from Helen’s shoulder as she secretly tittered, her own hand over her mouth. Olive tries her best to hold it in, the full coffee cups shaking on the tray she was holding.

“Get gone, English, before I clip you around the ear hole for laughing at me!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Olive giggled, slipping Helen a subtle wink as she departed.

Left with no other choice, Olive lets Meatball walk off leash. “Don’t make me regret this, buddy,” she urges, watching him walk not in a straight line but in some strange zig zag motion, as if to antagonize her into dropping the six cups of hot liquid straight on to the pavement.

“Woah!” she scolds, nearly tripping over the furry fool’s body as he stops suddenly to sniff the air, panting at the sound of his friends’ voices from afar. He almost looks like he’s smiling at her, seeming to enjoy her almost panicking at each drip of coffee falling from its full cup. “Meatball, we’re about to not be friends if you have me tripping face first into the ground.”

He suddenly obliges, though not to appease Olive; a baseball lands right at his feet and he’s off like a shot towards the hardstands the second he retrieves it in his mouth.

A few moments later, Olive finds him being fussed over by Lemmons. She places the tray down on someone’s tool chest, rubbing her sore arms.

“Heavy?” Wink asked, nudging her with his elbow.

“Not really,” she replies. “Not much weight to it but it was the keeping it upright that was the challenge. Especially with trying to keep Meatball close by and not have me tripping over my own feet. Here,” she says, handing him his cup. “I know it’s a little late in the day, but–”

“No, it’s much appreciated, Lewis,” he replies, taking a deep sip. “We’re out here for a while longer anyway, and this’ll keep the energy up for sure. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, I think, judging by Harding’s urgency.”

“You know what it’s about yet?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he laughs. “You seem to be in the know. Friends in high places and all that.”

“No special privileges here, Wink,” she jokes back, opening the bag of donuts and offering it to him. “I know as much as you, kiddo.”

“Olive!” Lemmons greets, grabbing a coffee from the tray. “Y’know, I expected more cold beer than hot coffee for keeping your little secret, but seeing as you brought donuts, I’ll let it slide.”

“You’d better,” she smiles, handing him the bag. She realizes that Wink is still standing in the same spot, absolutely in earshot. He is either too invested in his donut to look shocked, or there’s the alternative. Olive’s eyes narrow and bore into the young man in front of her, happily sipping coffee and petting the dog.

“Kenny…” she says through gritted teeth. “Did you tell anyone else?”

“Oh, heck,” he murmurs, his face dropping and growing ashen by the second. “Y’see, I just– well, he wanted to know why I was just so het up and I–”

“So you told Wink, without checking with me first, and he–” she stops, turning to the man beside her. “You’re fine with it?”

“Yeah, Olive. I was telling Kenny you seem a little different and I was just putting it down to you being English.”

“But I let it slip. I–I’m sorry, Ol.”

Her teeth bare again, her brow furrowing so hard that she is sure it could one up Valencia’s famous glare. “Kenny,” she growls, her eyes beginning to fill with angry tears. She drops the act the second she sees him wince at what’s coming next. She laughs, wiping her tears and sees his eyes grow wide. “I’m only fucking around, pal. It’s fine, you’re grand.”

“Jesus, Ol,” he breathes out, relieved. “Ya scared me, girl!”

“I told you, I’m an actor. I’ve got to pull it out every now and then to mess with my friends, it’s only fair.”

“Well, it worked! Hell fire!” He wipes his brow, finally taking a bite of the donut he had picked from the bag a few moments ago.

“Will you keep the dog for a little while? Me and the girls want to be ready for when the boys come back and we don’t want our nicer uniforms covered in dog hair.”

“What, not just this once? Take a little Meatball to dinner with ya?” Kenny coos, bending down to be close to Meatball’s face and pouting. Laughing, he stands up and brushes at his knees. “Sure thing, buddy. I’ll bring him back later.”

“Thanks, Ken. See you later!”

“Hey, thanks for dinner and a show!”

“You’re welcome!”

—

Back at the hut, Olive slumps on her bunk with a tired sigh. All this staying out into the early hours of the morning was beginning to take a real toll on her, no matter how fun it was. She feels herself getting drowsy, a sleepy warmth washing over her as she lay her head on her pillow for just a moment, to get the room to stop spinning. She calculates how long it's been since she went back to Pearl, and sits up in shock. Her whole body suddenly tense, she makes a mental note to go back as soon as possible. Not knowing how time will behave and treat her, she feels a panic rise up in her chest, the breathlessness of it making a rush of heat run up her body and burn her throat.

“Ol?” a voice, Helen’s, but sounds like it's underwater. “Olive, look at me,” she urges, her hand now on Olive's forehead. “Breathe, girlie.”

She nods weakly, and begins to look around the room as the walls begin to close in on her. She tries to find something to focus on, her eyes falling to the bed opposite hers - Valencia’s bunk - with the note still sat prettily atop the pillow. Disappointed that Val hadn’t seen it yet, she hopes that she arrives back soon to retrieve it. It’s this simple thought, the thought of her friend smiling as she reads it, that brings her back to herself.

“There,” Helen comforts, wiping Olive’s face with a damp washcloth. “I’ve got you. What pulled you out of it?”

“Thinking of Val’s face when she sees what he’s written.”

“Oh, I know!” She squeals. “I can hardly wait. Did she tell you who I met today?”

“No!” she cries. “I haven’t seen her since this morning. Oh my gosh, spill!”

She begins, her words coming out of her dainty mouth at a mile a minute as she regales the tale of meeting ‘the most handsome pilot I’ve ever laid my eyes on.’

“The most handsome?” Olive teases, hanging on every word.

“Yes!” she giggles, once again describing him. As she continues to chatter and giggle, Olive joining and doing just the same, the door swings open. Their conversation stops, their eyes sparkling and smiling widely at their friend.

“You’ve got mail…” Olive sing songs playfully, pointing over at the pillow.

“What don’t I know?” Val smiles, her pretty green eyes narrowing at the two giggling girls on the bed opposite.

“Nope,” Olive says, truly sticking to her promise of not revealing anything. She mimes zipping her lips, the action sending her and Helen into a peal of girlish giggles all over again.

“Olive!” she stomps, shaking her head at the mischievous pair who are falling over themselves with laughter.

Olive sees Val’s eyes read the note one, two, three times, each time with a little extra speed than before. She stands up from the bed and stands in front of Val, that all knowing, cheeky glint still sparkling in her eye.

“He…oh my God…” She stutters out, her hand flying out to find Olive’s to steady herself.

“He what, honey?” Helen asks, despite knowing exactly what she is referring to.

“That’s the first time...in a note!” She cries, trying to find a way to steady her heart’s rhythm at the revelation.

“The first time for what?” Helen teases again, still perched upon the bed with the same all-knowing look Olive has on her own face.

“Val, honey, are you okay?” Tattie asks, quietly entering the room.

“DID YOU KNOW?!” Val yelps, her attention turning to Olive, who is taken aback by the way Val’s voice is a few pitches higher than they’re all used to.

“Did I know what?” she asks innocently, almost winking at her.

“THIS!” she shrieks, waving the paper in front of her eyes.

“What’s it say?” the Brit asks, trying to peer around the paper to read the words she’s already read numerous times today.

“English, please!” She releases Olive’s hand and sits on her bed, her lungs tightening in her chest.

“Okay, okay,” she relents, taking a seat beside her on the bunk. “I promised,” she says, crossing her heart, “that I wouldn’t let it slip before you found out or he told you.”

“How did you…”

“Dougie and I were in here earlier,” she smiles at the memory, remembering the way he touched her hours before sending her organs dancing into a frenzy. “I was reading my mail when Ev came looking for him.”

“Yeah, okay, you two were ‘reading,’” she kids, rolling her eyes at her friend.

“Don’t change the subject, Valencia!”

“Olive!” Helen calls, her face now suddenly a picture of disgust. “Please tell me I’m not sitting where…”

“No, Helen, you’re safe. Nothing happened.”

“As long as I’m not–”

“Would you two please focus?” Val urgently cuts Helen off. “Everett just said he loves me!”

“Well of course he loves you!” Tattie says, rolling her eyes as she walks past the hubbub on her way to the shower block.

“No, I mean, that’s the first time he’s ever said it.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she yells, turning one of the showers on, the squeak of the pipes causing her to need to raise her voice so she’s heard.

“What makes you say that?” Val queries, the note still in her hands.

“Well, for starters,” Helen begins, hoping she is not interjecting on whatever Tattie has to say. “It’s the way you gaze into each other’s eyes when you think no one is looking…” She rolls over, her stomach now on the bed with her feet kicked up behind her.

“Or when we are looking,” Olive teases, nudging her a little. She reaches into her pocket and grabs her cigarettes, lighting two and handing on to Val. “Here, chicken, come on…”

Val takes the cigarette from Olive’s fingers and takes a long drag before exhaling quickly, Olive seeing that the deep breath she took is beginning to somewhat ground her. She begins to talk again, in her normal tone and slower this time, the words accompanied by a plume of white smoke as she speaks. Her eyes seem to glaze over, like she’s lost in another time far away from this one.

“The last person who told me they loved me,” she begins, blinking suddenly.

“There was someone before Blakely?” Tattie calls, her head popping around the wall of the tiled bathroom as she dries herself.

“I don’t like talking about it,” Val sighs, her eyes almost back to their usual green tone. “We met when I started working at the bank. He was a big shot and I was a secretary.”

“Val, you don’t have to tell us.”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighs, looking between her friends. “I want to. I think I need to, to finally be rid of him.”

“Rid of him?” Helen questions.

“He was a real sweet talker,” Val starts. “Not like Curt or Ev. He was the kind of guy who could charm the skirt off a nun. Not even Curt can do that.” She titters, taking another pull of the cigarette in her hand.

“Oh…” Helen cringes slightly, still intrigued by Val’s story.

“So, he charmed me. Charmed me real good, made me lots of promises.”

“Val, did he…” Olive asks.

“No,” she urges, shaking her head. “I was so enthralled by him, I had wanted to.”

“So, what happened?”

“The secretaries would always leave at five in the dot. So, there would be nights I would go home and he would still be working, and so Curt would meet me and walk me home. And one night, we were walking home, we came up to the picture house, and there he was.”

“Oh no!” Helen cries, her hand slapping to cover her mouth as she figures out where this is going.

“He was with another woman,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know who she was, but I begged Curt to take me home.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “In the police station, after Curt beat him within an inch of his life. They both got arrested for a public brawl.”

“Valencia!” Olive cries, somewhat shocked but not shocked at all at the mental image of Curtis Biddick defending his best friend with his boxer’s fists.

“I had to identify them both. Curt had claimed self defense, so, when it came time to make my statement, I said that my ex had attacked me, and Curt fought back in my defense.”

“Oh my God!”

“I tried dating other fellas after the dust settled, but Curt was always wildly protective and made it difficult. I get why he did it.”

“He really is your protector, isn’t he?” Olive soothes, her fingers intertwining with Val’s.

“Until I found out he was the one who divulged my cocktail order to Everett…”

“Curt did?!” Helen cries happily, almost cheering at the discovery.

“He did,” Val smiles, the cigarette long ignored as it burns its way down to her fingers. “He surprises me in funny ways like that.”

“Insufferable, that one,” Olive chuckles, shaking her head. “But he really is a good egg.”

“What are you going to tell Blakely?” Tattie asks, joining the others in the room again.

“That I love him too,” she grins, showing her perfect teeth. “Because I do love him.”

“Ohhhhh!” It’s Olive’s turn to squeal, almost jumping up and down in excitement. “I knew it!”

—

Olive and Helen watch as Val takes Ev’s note and delicately places it between the pages of the book that rests on her side table. Everett Blakely’s first ‘I love you’ was now secretly pressed between chapters seven and eight of The Great Gatsby. The girls then found themselves in front of the mirror, prettying themselves up for dinner. Being invited to eat in the Officer’s Mess was slightly anxiety inducing anyway, but even more so when Chick Harding would be sat just a few tables away. They dug out their cleanest uniform, once again glad that Olive had sent Meatball to the airfield for his daily exercise. For such an occasion as this, the uniform needed to remain dog-hair, coffee stained and donut sugar free.

Olive watched as Valencia expertly daubed rouge on her cheeks and her signature Victory Red shade on her lips, pouting occasionally in the mirror so as to ensure she’d got the right shape. She tries her best to mimic her movements without making it obvious, pulling her dark brown hair out from under the silk scarf she had used to keep it contained all day, now pinning it away from her face. She had found the perfect shade after the disastrous testing and application of Val’s Victory Red on her first night in the hut. It’s one she will be happy to have kissed off her mouth later, that’s for certain.

“That color looks good on you,” Val utters from next to her.

“Yeah?” She replies, meeting her glance in the reflection of the mirror and resuming the primping of her hair, hoping to somehow smooth it into submission. “It’s not too dark?”

“Not at all. It’s the perfect red for you.”

“I think only you can pull off that Victory Red,” Olive chuckles, the pair of them remembering how that shade had been much too light against Olive’s pale skin, it washing her out and making her impossibly more pasty. “It was not for me.”

“Oh, gosh, do you remember how fast you wiped it off?”

“Immediate no,” she laughs. A sigh leaves her lips, throwing a stray hair pin that had escaped from her hair onto a nearby table. “Ugh, this side does not want to cooperate!”

“Here, let me…” Val stands and walks towards her friend, standing behind her as she begins gently rolling Olive’s hair between her manicured fingers and pinning it in the desired spot.

“How do you do it?” She grumbles, her hair now perfect within seconds, all thanks to an expert hand.

“From an early age, my mother taught me how to be a ‘proper lady’,” she replies, Olive stifling a giggle at Val’s impression of her mom. “‘Valencia, don’t leave the house without lipstick on. Don’t forget to set your hair.’”

Olive laughs fully now at the broken English accent that comes out of her. She is so good at it that it’s almost like her mother is in the room with them. “Is that what she sounds like?”

“Oh, yes,” Val nods. “And Nonna, not a word of English.”

“Well, you’re a whizz,” she compliments, looking up as the final pin is placed in her hair. “I need to pay attention to how you do your hair.”

“You’re doing just fine, chickie,” she winks, walking over to her side table and putting on her watch before collecting her jacket. Olive does just the same, Helen waiting impatiently by the door. “We were all there once.”

“Thanks,” Olive beams at her friend, shoving her arms into her own jacket. “Now, come on. It’s almost 5:30 and if I know those two…”

“They’re probably already outside,” she finishes, Helen opening the door.

The two men stood outside, smoking together and deep in conversation, no doubt about the replacements that had joined them today. Listening in as they mischievously stare through the screen door at their fellas, they catch that Ev had taken a few of the boys up and tested them on formations and calling out navigation patterns. Dougie had simulated a bomb drop for them, the pilot and the bombardier agreeing that two forts in particular had impressed them - the rest, not so much.

“I wanted to take Ol to the pub tonight, but that’s not happening,” Dougie grumbles as he senses the girls making their way towards them.

“I know,” Ev groans in response. “I owe Val a date but, based on what Jack told me earlier, we’re about to go through the mud for a bit.”

“This whole place is mud. Never stops raining!”

“This one sounds big,” Ev musters, his voice low.

“He say where?”

“No, Harding’s keeping it close to the vest.”

“Dammit,” Dougie shoots out, teeth slightly gritted together in annoyance. “It would be nice to know what we’re up against for once.”

“Yeah,” comes the quiet reply from Everett, the final ember bursting from his cigarette. “Explains why he wants us looking after these new kids.”

“Fucking replacements…”

The conversation carries on, the men so involved in it that they still haven’t noticed the girls right by them. The compliments flow, them talking about a pair from Laredo who seemed to be the only ones worth their salt.

Dougie does a double take as he realizes his girl is right by him. He throws his finished cigarette into the makeshift ashtray in front of the hut and smiles his sweet grin, holding out his hand.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You look beautiful.”

“Heh, thank you,” she giggles, feeling herself blush at his compliment. “You’re looking mighty fine yourself, my love.”

“Good day?” he teases, kissing her gently on the mouth.

“Hm, it was okay, I guess. Nothing much happened,” she pauses, this time being the one to initiate the kiss. “A lot of reading.”

“Oh yeah, we definitely read a lot. Can we read more tomorrow?”

“Only if you buy me a drink later.”

“Deal,” he winks, pulling her close. “Oh, you smell divine, Ollie.”

“Yes, I’m quite appealing when I’m not covered in dog hair and coffee.”

“I think you’re just as beautiful all the time,” he whispers, his voice in her ear sending a delicious tingle down her spine. She lets him keep gently whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she catches sight of Val and Ev going on ahead, the pair of them walking in step as he wraps his arm around her shoulders and keeps her close.

“We’d better go,” she laughs, nodding her head towards their friends. “We’re gonna be late.”

“If that hut is empty, I’m fine being late.”

“James!” she scolds, but laughs nevertheless. “You are so cheeky!”

“Yeah,” he grins, his eyes beginning to light up. “Only for you, though.”

“Oh, it had better be only for me, Douglass,” she flirts, batting her long lashes at him. “Nobody else is getting a piece of this!”

“Nu-uh, no, ma’am. Never.”

The evening air has a chill upon it, Dougie feeling it the moment they begin walking towards the Officer’s Mess. He throws his arm around Olive’s shoulders and pulls her close, the warmth from his body edging the cold away with each step.

“I’d give you my jacket,” he offers. “But I’d have to put it right back on in a second.”

“I understand, sweet. No bother at all.”

He stops, taking her face between his hands and plants a deep kiss on her mouth, both of them feeling the other smile as their lips meet. She giggles as they break apart, taking her thumb to wipe the lipstick from his lips. “Oh, seems this red is your color, too.”

“I knew it. Does that mean I can keep kissing you forever?”

“Sure,” she swoons, the word ‘forever’ sending her insides melting. “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he whispers, a tone of nervousness to his voice. “Come on, pretty girl. We’re late.”

—

Upon entering the mess, Dougie’s arm once again wraps around Olive, they hear Val’s voice loudly making a remark to Harry Crosby. Gesturing to the couple who are smiling themselves into oblivion, they hear “that about answer your question, Croz?”

“Sure does,” he laughs in response, smiling at them both as Dougie, ever the sweet gentleman, pulls the chair out next to Val for Olive to sit on before rounding the table to sit opposite her, next to Everett.

“So, fellas,” he pipes up, his eyes crinkling from his smile. “How’s it going then?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Dougie,” Brady grins, nodding towards Olive.

“Oh, I’m great,” he enunciates, winking at his girl opposite him, who rolls her eyes in return.

“Brady,” Olive begins, tapping his hand to get his attention. “I just wanted to say how lovely your Juliet is. I received her reply today, and I’ve got to say, what an amazing person. What a magnificent writer she is. Those kids are lucky to have her as their teacher, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, thanks, Olive,” he smiles, his cheeks turning red at the mention of her. “Make sure you mention that in your next letter. I tell her that all the time, yet she never seems to take it in from me. Maybe she’ll listen to someone else.”

“Maybe so! I’m very much the same, John. It’s a girl thing.”

“She write you an essay?” he jokes, shuffling with the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“She did, actually,” she nods enthusiastically, promising to show him tomorrow.

“Yeah,” Dougie interjects. “We read it together.”

The men at the table give a roaring cheer at his remark, Olive feeling herself turn a deep shade of beetroot as she begins to laugh. “James!” she says, holding on to Valencia as they both laugh with tears in their eyes. “Keep it quiet.”

“Yeah, Doug,” Ev says, ruffling his hair a little. “Keep it quiet.”

Next to her, she sees Val catch the eye of one of the new replacements that had been mentioned earlier. Due to her having not been introduced to them yet, she is finding it hard to place which one had captured Helen’s heart and mind this morning from description alone. Nevertheless, Olive smiles brightly at them in greeting, the curly haired mustached man waving across to Val.

“Hey, Val,” Benny calls from the other end of the table. “Looks like you’ve caught the eye of some of the replacements.” Olive sees Everett’s head twitch just a little at Benny’s words, turning his head slightly to get a better look. “Starry eyed kids.”

“Rosenthal and his crew?” Val responds, shaking her head with a laugh.

“Uh, no, actually…”

“What?” Ev scowls, and finds the men Benny has been referring to. His eyes narrow towards them, his gait akin to a wild cat ready to attack. Olive feels her chest tense up, hoping and praying this isn’t the start of a whole new argument, so soon after getting over the last one.

“Everett, they’re not doing anything,” she pleads, her voice soft. “They’re just–”

“Drooling at my girlfriend like a pack of dogs.”

Olive quickly looks over each of her shoulders, hoping that brotherly Curt Biddick isn’t in the vicinity. Olive isn’t sure who Curt would go for first in this situation - Ev for acting in such a way, or the new boys acting like uncouth savages whose mothers hadn’t taught them manners.

Dougie places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, bringing him out of the envious trance he’d gotten himself in. “Ev, hey pal. They’re just kids, they’ll learn.”

Olive sees Ev’s eyes unlock from the group with a shake of his head as he hears Dougie’s words, the ready-to-pounce stance dropping almost immediately.

“Yeah…learn not to ogle other people’s girlfriends,” he spits, pointedly talking to those same boys, whose faces had dropped a mile in fear.

“Everett…” Val warned, her eyes meeting Olive’s in some kind of confusion. Before he can respond, Gale Cleven stands with his hands on his hips, ever the authoritative figure. Major Buck Cleven addresses the boys, their faces now pale and their eyes darting to fixate on anything but Everett Blakely.

“Fellas,” he nods. “Those girls will get your utmost respect, understood?”

“Y-yes, Major,” they all stutter out, Buck nodding before moving along to say hello to everyone.

“Boys. Miss Lewis, Miss Val,” he smiles, giving Val a little wink after realizing she has heard his talk with the replacements. “Enjoy dinner, everyone.”

“Thanks, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Val and Ev, who are sitting opposite one another just like Olive and Dougie are, begin quietly talking to one another. Olive finds it best to not listen in, having found that this situation was enough drama for one night. Instead, she catches the eye opposite her, Dougie shaking his head and rolling his eyes with a smile as the pair murmur next to them.

—

Dinner finishes, and the group finds that the tiredness has finally caught up with them all, Olive and Val exchanging tired glaces which are not just from feeling full after all they’d eaten for dinner.

“So, club?” Dougie asks, taking a drag of his just lit cigarette and passing it across to Olive.

“Hmm, no. Not tonight,” she shakes her head, blowing smoke out of her mouth. “Unless Val wants to?”

“Hell no,” she laughs, dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. “I need my bed.” She pauses for a second, evidently piecing a thought together. “Why don’t we just go sit outside our hut for a while?”

“It’s a nice night, I don’t see why not,” Olive agrees, already beginning to stand. Dougie rushes up behind her and helps her with her jacket, holding out his hand for her to hold. “Come on, honey,” she smiles, before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “We can have a cuddle.”

“Perfect.”

The group makes the short walk back, Dougie not letting Olive’s hand go for a second. Every now and then, he puts it to his lips and kisses the back of it, smiling softly at the sight of their fingers linked together. Once the hut is reached, the girls rush inside and place a vinyl on the player, gesturing for one of the guys to grab a chair and prop the door open so the music can be heard from where they will sit.

“Ev, we need a record player in our rack,” Dougie says, handing a cigarette up to Olive who is sitting on his lap, his arm around her waist, holding her close to him.

“Croz has a record player,” Ev responds with a sigh, him and Val squeezing up to share a chair so they can be as close as possible to one another.

“Yeah, but he plays fancy stuff,” he laments, his free hand squeezing Olive’s waist a little more.

“What exactly is fancy stuff, Doug?” Val asks with a laugh.

“You know, opera and stuff.”

“Classical music is nice,” Val reasons to him, her eyes softly narrowing at him. “Nonna plays a lot of classical Italian at home. It’s actually quite nice.”

“Hey, Ol,” Dougie asks, nudging her a little. “What does Pearl play?”

She smiles, happy that this is a question she can answer truthfully.

“A lot of Glenn Miller in her house,” she sighs, another reminder to go back to her and reality looming over her.

“She has good taste,” Ev offers, nodding.

“Heh, yeah. She sure does.”

The four of them excitedly begin exchanging anecdotes about their families, Helen and Tattie joining them while Ev is in the middle of a story, regarding his mother and how she dealt with his rebellious behavior as a child.

“All I heard was, and it scared the life out of me, let me tell ya, was ‘Everett Ernest, if you so much as look at that vase–’”

“Wait, wait!” Olive shakes her head, wanting to make sure she heard him correctly. “Your middle name is Ernest?”

“Yes, and what of it, English?”

“I'm sorry, it's just–” she is cut off by the sound of a cackle erupting from her own throat, clutching her stomach as her eyes squeeze shut. “I didn't expect that. You don't–” she squeals, trying to compose herself. “You don't look like an Ernest, that's all.”

“Go on then, what's yours?”

“Maude,” she giggles, catching the glint in his eye as she says it.

“Maude? Jesus, Ol, that's somehow worse than Ernest!” It's his turn to laugh now, the pair of them throwing their heads back and laughing loudly into the night.

“I think it's cute,” Dougie says, sweetly tapping her nose with his finger.

“Thank you! I think so too.” Her nose wrinkles sweetly as he touches it, him mirroring her expression and pulling her into a quick peck on the lips.

Tattie lights one of the last cigarettes in the pack, passing it between the group.

Helen, the most inexperienced smoker of them all but not wanting to be the odd one out, keeps coughing at each drag she takes. The dainty little noises leave her every few seconds, her chest heaving delicately as if she were a sickly little kitten.

“Helen, doll,” Olive urges. “Put that out. You're hurting yourself!”

“I don't wanna look like the party pooper!”

“I can promise, you're not,” she laughs, gesturing with a wave of her hand to give her the cigarette, the tip covered in her lipstick. As she stubs it out, she sees four men round the corner, all of them wide eyed and seeming to be taking in their new surroundings. Val looks up with a grin and waves, beckoning them over while Helen visibly swoons at the sight of the thin, dark haired pilot.

“Ohhhh,” Olive says, knowingly. “That'll be Nash, then.” Helen simply giggles, tucking an invisible strand of her behind her ear. “There is no hair loose, my girl,” Olive guffaws, shaking her head.

“Ol, come meet the new fellas!” Valencia calls, three of the four in front of her. Nash had made his way over to Helen without a hello, his target clear from the moment he'd seen her leaning against the wall of the hut.

“This is Robert,” Val begins. “Speas here is Nash's co-pilot and…where's he got to?”

“I'll give ya three guesses,” the round faced blond man perks up, eyebrows wiggling.

“That was fast. He's keen.”

“Sure is. Sorry, Miss…?” he says, looking at Olive.

“Lewis. Olive Lewis.”

“No way!” he gestures to himself, patting his chest three times in a fit of excitement. “Pappy Lewis!”

“Oh, what?!” she squeals, clutching on to his arm. “I mean,” she stutters. “It's a pretty common name, Pappy.”

“Never met a Brit with the same one before though. Truth be told, never met a Brit til just now.”

“It's your lucky day. A Brit and a long lost cousin,” she jokes, stubbing out the last of her cigarette.

“Oh! You're right! Hey, Rosie!” he calls over to him, not realizing he's still stood right next to him so he almost deafens the curly haired pilot. “Came all the way to England to find my cousin!”

“Pappy, she's not–”

“Long lost cousin Olive,” he says, pulling her into a hug. Olive pulls away as he loosens his grip on her, platonically grabbing his arm to lead him over to Ev and Dougie. Olive catches sight of Everett talking in hushed tones to Dougie, his hand on his shoulder. Ev is carrying an expression that's rarely seen, his brow softly furrowed and his body squared up as if to cover Dougie’s from where he is sat. The pair seem to be speaking softly, Ev obviously talking Dougie down from a mood that hasn't been apparent thus far. Olive worries, instantly trying to break the ice between them and her new friend. She rifles in her pocket and pulls out the box of cigarettes, somehow hoping that a simple gesture will give some ease to the surrounding atmosphere.

“Smoke?” she offers to Pappy as they reach the two men. “You guys have–”

“We've met,” Dougie says sharply, taking the last pull of his Lucky Strike as he stands.

“Doug…” Everett urges, gesturing for him to sit back down. Olive can clearly see Dougie’s neck tightening, a vein beginning to pop out on his forehead. His face is covered with a thin sheen of sweat, him wiping at his brow quickly as Olive takes in his expression, her eyes full of concern.

“Excuse me, Pappy,” she says, placing herself in front of James. “Honey,” she soothes. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” he replies, his voice meek and quiet. “It's nothing.”

“You wouldn't be acting like this if it was nothing.” She puts a hand on his face, before raking her fingers through his dark hair. “Come on, come with me.”

She links her fingers with his and takes him to a quieter spot, the back of the hut where they can't be seen. Instantly, she crosses her arms and shakes her head, as if to urge him into telling her what's going on. “Well?”

“I need you to know I'm not mad,” he begins, his eyes stuck on a spot on the pavement below. “I just…I get uneasy sometimes.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Someone - an old girlfriend - stepped out on me. Was unfaithful and I don't–”

“My goodness. I could never. I would never.”

He sighs, the back of his head against the wall as he breathes out. “I just need to know you're my girl.”

“Oh, James,” she mollifies, lifting his chin to have him look at her. “I'm your girl.”

“What if you change your mind?” He sounds so unlike himself, his voice, so small and meek, barely above a whisper as it cracks just a little.

“I will never change my mind. D'you hear me?” He nods, his blue eyes suddenly swimming. “Never, ever. However long you want me for, at least.”

“Oh, I'm planning on a really long time.”

“Good,” she smiles, pulling him closer to kiss her. “I'm yours. Okay? And when you feel ready, you can tell me the whole story.”

“Okay.” The deep breath he seems to have been holding escapes him, Olive seeing his chest collapse a little with relief. He smiles at her, gently stroking her face. “Hey, you think we can sneak in and do some more reading?”

“No chance of that, darling,” she says, nodding towards the group still outside. “But I’m sure we can read here for a little bit. Maybe a bedtime story, hm?” She grins at him, and he catches a cheeky glint in her deep brown eyes as she kisses him, open mouthed and firm. He gently pushes her against the wall, her opening her legs slightly to accommodate his lean body pressing on hers. Gentle moans pass between their mouths as they kiss, pushing their tongues together, trying to find a moment to breathe. His hand gently strokes down her neck, her eyes squeezing further shut to bite off a groan that’s trying to escape from her throat. It’s when he softly presses his fingers on the area he is holding that the moan crawls from her mouth and into his, him laughing on her lips in return.

“You’re fresh, James Douglass,” she murmurs, his lips capturing hers again as the hand eases its grip. She finds his bottom lip with her tongue and gently nibbles, her hands finding themselves in his hair, softly gripping his hair and mussing it, the pomade slightly sticky upon her fingertips. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is the man in front of her, his mouth moving and working upon hers as if he never wanted to kiss another woman this way ever again. She shivers at his touch, the hairs all over her body standing on end as he plants soft kisses on her jawline and neck, making Olive quietly moan, her warm breath condensating in the dark, starry evening.

“Can we say goodnight like this all the time?” he mumbles into her skin, his tongue finding her jugular.

“Yes please,” she whines, her hips bucking into him as she goes to grab him once again. “And good morning, good afternoon, good evening…” her voice drifts off as he presses his lips to hers again, silencing her. He teasingly breaks away as she gasps, sighing in frustration. She catches sight of him in the moonlight and cackles for a second, his kiss-swollen lips covered in her lipstick. A familiar voice booms over the whole base, shocking the couple slightly. “The light was on. Everyone get back to your racks,” followed by a very stern “James Douglass. Bed. NOW!”

“I’m beginning to think we need to find better hiding spots,” Olive says, rolling her eyes.

“Come on,” he whispers, pulling her off the wall. “They’ll be wondering where we got to.”

“Oh, I think they’ll know. Come here, love,” she says, pulling a spare handkerchief from her pocket. “You need this.”

“Do I look pretty?” he pouts, leaning forward to get her to clean his face.

“Always, doll,” she reassures, touching his nose with her own. “There,” she nods, not a smear of lipstick to be seen. “They’ll never suspect a thing!”

The two round the corner, still giggling from their little tryst as they catch Val smiling sweetly at them. She gives them a little wave as she makes her way into the hut, leaving the door open for Olive. The lull of the night surrounds them as they quietly bid one another goodnight. A sweet kiss planted on her lips makes her toes curl. He kisses her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and touches her nose with his one final time. No words are spoken; it’s as if nothing else needs to be said, the actions seeming to do the talking. She watches as he turns and walks away into the night, Olive finding herself thanking the stars above for bringing her here.

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @archival-hogwash @lestweforget5 @butterfly9012

27 notes · View notes

countrymusiclover · 7 days ago

Text

3 - Hunting Party

Part 4

Star Crossed Enemies

Three knocks were heard on the outside of my apartment door that was shut. Getting up from my bed I crossed the room barely opening the door seeing my father Jake standing in the hallway. “Dad! Hurry, get inside. Did anyone see you? Mom?”

“Nobody saw me, sweetheart. Your mother is still at work. But I do hope you have thought about my offer to let Marcus Kane pose as your father.” He stepped inside, wrapping me in a hug and I pressed my face against the fabric of his shirt.

Lifting my head up slightly I had to ask knowing the kind of man he called his friend. “You mean the man that enforces harsher than the current Chancellor does. I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Please just consider it, Cassie. I want someone else looking out for you when I can’t.” My father declares with some tears welling up in his eyes.

Lowering my gaze to the floor I wouldn’t realize what his words meant until after he was gone. Sighing heavily I nodded agreeing with his plan. “Okay, dad. I’ll talk with Kane but change my last name to Rhodes.”

Suddenly the door opened and closed quickly showing my mother Abby standing in front of it as she shut it by pressing her back against it. “Mom!”

“Abby! How did you know I was here?” Dad questioned her under his breath.

She stomped up pushing the two of us apart from one another glaring sparingly at each one of us individually. “The whole reason that I told you to get your own place at sixteen was to make sure that the three of us weren’t seen together too much to draw suspicion. And you can’t even follow that simple order.”

“Abby, don’t be hard on her. I came to see her. She didn’t know I was coming today so be angry at me.” My father attempted to calm down his wife but it was no use.

She snapped back at her husband. “She clearly doesn’t understand how serious this is for us. For me, you and Clarke.”

Pure hurt came over me at her words not hearing even utter my name once. I shoved her away from me where she stumbled into my father’s chest completely taken back by my actions. “So that’s how it is huh, mom. You’ve just cut me out of the family completely!”

“Sweetheart, you know I meant you to-“ She started to say but I slapped her hand away that tried to touch me.

“No you knew what you said the minute the words came out of your lying mouth!” Pushing past them I fling the door opened pointing with my index finger for them to leave. “You know just leave me alone. Just get out of my face right now!”

“Cassiopeia.” She spoke simply.

“Get out!” I screamed through heavy tears falling down my face. My mother scrambled out quickly but my father lingered sending me a silent apologetic look before leaving, allowing me the opportunity to shut the door and just sobbed on the cold floor.

“Wake up, grounder girl.” I felt someone kicking me with their boot in the middle of my back waking me from the sleep I had managed to accomplish on the harsh cold floor of their dropship.

Rolling over onto my back I groaned, spreading my hands over my face. “Uhhh…what do you want?”

“Get up. I’m taking you hunting with me.” Bellamy declared resting one hand on his hip that had a metal ax attached to his belt loops.

Peeking through my fingers I glared up at the older man standing over me. “Hunting hmm. Are you needing pointers on how to kill animals since you lived in space all your life.” I teased him by turning over to lay on my side and attempt to fall back to sleep.

The sky boy stepped around my legs and lowered himself down in a squatting position giving him the ability to grab my chin forcing me to look him in the eye. “It wasn’t a question. You’re my prisoner, not a guest.”

“Fine. But I get to have my weapons pack back. I refuse to leave this camp without having my own form of protection.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything for a minute before giving me a simple head nod. “If you try to kill me I will fight you.”

“You kill me.” I laughed at how cocky and confident he seemed. “That’s adorable.”

He stared down at me for a few minutes before he nudged me with the tip of his boot a second time, walking over to the ladder and climbing down. Sitting upright I ran my fingers through my hair undoing the one braid that I had in my hair allowing it all to be loose. Climbing down the ladder I didn’t fall even with having my hands handcuffed. “So if you want me to go hunting with you you’re gonna have to take these off first.” Holding up my handcuffed wrists I stood on the edge of the dropship ramp.

All around me everyone was working on some portion of their camp. They had constructed a wall around the whole dropship and a meat house. Plus many tents so they didn’t all have to sleep in the metal box. The only thing I could see they were missing was proper weapons.

Bellamy takes one long stride forward snagging my right wrist in his grasp cutting the ties with a small knife he had on his belt. “When we get back here these are going back on.”

“Do you really assume I’m so dangerous? I could be the weakest fighter you’ve ever seen.”

He raised his brows knowing I was being very sarcastic. “Nice try, Cassio. You took out three of my guys with a dart gun and held a knife to my throat.”

“So you did learn something from that day. Good I was beginning to worry I didn't scare you well enough.” I glared up at him, shifting my gaze to his deep chocolate eyes focused on me. We remained standing for about ten minutes until someone came over to us.

“Bellamy! Are we going to go kill something or not?” A guy with dark brown hair carrying a metal knife walked up. “What is she doing outside the dropship?”

Bellamy quickly separated himself from me. He handed me my weapon pack before turning his attention to the guy. “We're taking her with us, Murphy.”

“Why don't we just kill the grounder girl. We already have one chained up in the dropship and how are we supposed to know that she won't try and kill us the second we step outside of camp.” Murphy questions his leader.

The older man nodded his head to his right hand man, snagging my wrist leading me outside the camp walls with Murphy and a few other guys following behind us. “We're not going to kill her. And don't worry about her. I'll keep an eye on her.”

Our group trekked through the woods in silence looking for any animals that we could kill for dinner tonight. I wasn’t that familiar with this area. Living in Polis meant that we had hunting parties go out and return with food. I typically only tagged along with them in that specific area. Walking up the side of the hill I paused bending down on my knees I saw a deer standing a few feet in front of me eating some grass. Turning my head slightly around I saw Bellamy walking past me with an ax raised in his right hand till I jumped up snagging his wrist before he could swing it. “Hang on. You can’t do that.”

“I know how to kill something, grounder girl.” Bellamy grunted trying to fight against my type grip that my fingernails had on his wrist.

Murphy pointed his index finger at me in frustration. “I told you we shouldn’t have brought her with us!”

“I can handle her, Murphy.” The older leader intensely stared down at me. “Let go of me. You’re gonna scare off our dinner.”

Digging my fingernails deeper into his wrists that I was holding I pressed my nose against his. He needed to understand that I was trying to help him, even if he didn’t understand it yet. I certainly could just let him miss the deer and simply laugh in his face afterwards. “Shut up and listen to me, Blake. The way you’re currently holding that ax wouldn’t kill the deer. So if you want to bring food back to camp you better start listening to me!”

“You’re lying.” He shakes his head still not believing me.

With my freehand I snatched the weapon from his hand, stomping quickly around him before he could grab me and stop me from what I was about to do. Raising the ax above my hand with both my hands wrapped, the handle as I took a deep breath releasing it only after I launched the weapon forward. The ax went flying into the lower stomach of the deer before it slowly fell down dead on the forest floor. Proudly spinning around on my boots I smirked with my hands clasped behind my back. “Next time you refuse my help keep in mind I won’t be helping you.”

“I’ll be damned.” Bellamy cursed under his breath before the sky began slowly turning a dark yellow meaning the acid fog was coming from the mountain.

“Bellamy.” I shouted back at him.

He finally noticed the sky breaking in a sprint forward grabbing the back of my jacket and the others broke off into another direction for shelter. “There are caves this way!”

13 notes · View notes

itsonlybaby · 6 months ago

Text

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 - 𝐣. 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist !

John Murphy - Modern AU

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ in which you and your friends plan on throwing murphy a surprise birthday party, what will happen when the guest of honor is late to his own birthday? ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: kiss scene, sfw

"What's the theme gonna be?" I ask, excitedly.

Octavia, Bellamy, Clarke, and Lincoln sat next to and across from me in the university lounge. Jasper and Monty were in their respective classes but we'd text them the details after the discussion.

The discussion in question is Murphy's birthday party. Well, it was a secret birthday party.

Murphy hadn't been fond of birthday parties, or secret ones, or anything happy in general. It took a while for him to even come out of his shell around us. His snarky comments always bring a smile to my face.

"I didn't know you needed one for a birthday party," Lincoln stated, Bellamy nodding in agreement while I rolled my eyes.

Lincoln and Bellamy only seemed to be here for Octavia and Clarke, the rest of the friend group besides me didn't really know him- it's not that they didn't care for him perse; it's just he's only with us when we're all together. Nobody really gets to sit down and talk with him one-on-one.

"He doesn't even like parties, let alone surprise parties," Clarke spoke up from beside Bellamy. "Let's just get him a present from all of us and leave it at that."

Clarke has always tried to get the group to do what 'benefits' us most, or at least that's what she says when she gets called out on occasion.

But nobody is perfect.

What she had said struck something in me, we'd always thrown parties for everyone in the group so what made Murphy so different? Just because he isn't as social with everyone? I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Bellamy agreeing with her.

"C'mon guys, were his friends, why do I have to constantly remind you all of that?" I stood up abruptly, catching everyone's attention and the eyes of passersby.

"She is right, it'll be fun Clarke," Octavia added, if I could count on anyone it'd be Octavia to have my back. I smiled when I saw Clarke's small smile, signaling she agreed. If Clarke was going then Bellamy was too. Same with Lincoln and Octavia. Jasper and Monty wouldn't pass up a good time with friends, Monty could even bring Harper!

"Alright! My place, tomorrow night at 6! Don't forget presents!" I say, a little to enthusiastic. I was already picturing the bright smile on Murphy's face, imagining how happy I'd be making him.

I grabbed my bag from the side of the beanbag and made a B-line to the parking lot after noticing the time. I hoped Murphy wasn't mad at me for being late. Murphy had a car, I didn't, he also had a license, I didn't. So he offered (I pleaded) to take me home after classes since we lived in the same apartment complex. It made things easier, I got to have small talks with him, and he... well he got a friend.

Opening the glass doors I saw Murphy's car, I was surprised he'd waited 40 minutes for me.

Opening the passenger door I tossed my bag behind me into the backseat, it landed on a pile of random clothes- thankfully only his. Murphy's car was decorated in my things, hair ties on the shift gear, lipgloss in the change holder, a car freshener I got him in the shape of a bow, he protested it made him look girly but he never tried to give the things I left back.

"You're lucky I waited." Murphy started the car up. "What were you even doing? I know your schedule so don't try and lie." He finished, pulling out of the parking space. He knows my schedule?

Looking over at him I examined his face, like I do every time I'm in the car with him. It's like I can never get enough like I want his face engraved into my brain. His not-so-slicked-back hair, his dark blue eyes, his prominent nose. The imperfections he saw I didn't. Even with his tough guy act I could tell, there were some things he wished he could change. Though I wouldn't change them for the world.

A cough from Murphy snapped me out of my trance, he must've noticed my staring. I shook my head and brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

"Just talking with the others at the lounge." I tried not to reveal too many details about the conversations prior.

Looking out the window, unable to see the frown on Murphy's face, "Of course, cause who wouldn't wanna spend 40 minutes in a university lounge." The stop light turned green and I felt the car pick up speed.

"You should really try talking to some of them more, and I mean like really talking. Like how we are now!" I say, turning back to look at him, realizing how... sad? he looked. I wished everyone could see what I saw in Murphy.

"Yeah, well, I only talk to them for you, so." His hand turned on the radio once he was finished speaking, the sound of Frank Ocean 'Ivy' filling the car shortly after, soon filling the silence. It was my favorite song that I had introduced him to, and ever since then, it's been his favorite too.

He only talks to them for me? As in he only talks to them for me? or for me? I had wanted to ask more questions but I decided to take the hint and leave the topic alone for now.

The song had started to get to me, "I feel a song coming on!" I say, turning up the radio. Murphy knew what this meant, as it wasn't his first rodeo.

"You better not! I will leave you on this highway!" Empty threats he was spewing.

"I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me!" I sang loudly, with no care in the world. Unbeknownst to me, Murphy was admiring me from the driver's seat, how I was so effortlessly beautiful to him. A smile found its way onto his lips, a rare occurrence to most, but a common one with you.

"The start of nothin'..." He grumbled through a smile.

"Had no chance to prepare, I couldn't see you comin'!" We both sang along, his smile growing bigger with every lyric.

It was amazing to see him like this, without his usual frown. His smile was beautiful, and I wish I had the guts to tell him.

Pulling into a parking space near our complex I leaned into the backseat to grab my bag. The sudden dread that the moment before would be cut short. Murphy seemed to feel it too as his smile returned to his normal scowl.

"Murphy?" I look at him before opening the door, catching his attention quickly.

"Yeah?"

"Come over tomorrow, at 6ish. And happy early birthday!" I hoped that didn't reveal too much about the party happening tomorrow. And with that I hopped out of the car and made my way into the complex, leaving Murphy with his thoughts, of me.

I had already gotten his present a week prior, it was a build-a-bear plushie. A big green frog, dressed in an outfit similar to what Murphy wears, but the best part is the voice message when you press his hand. It, well I, say, "yu laik ai raunon" meaning, you are my person, its trigdasleng. Few people know the made-up language, Murphy included. I just hope he likes it. It's also my way of saying, I like you.

It's been 30 minutes past six. Everyone was growing doubt Murphy would even come, but I had faith. I was staring out the window when I overheard Octavia and Lincoln talking.

"Why would you tell him? It's supposed to be a surprise Lincoln." Octavia whispered, crossing her arms in disapproval.

It was obvious now why he didn't show, but if he knew we were all coming why not just make an appearance?

Staring back out the window I saw Murphy's car pull up, joy flowed through me but was slowly dispercing the longer he sat there, unmoving. Why wasn't he getting out?

I made my way to the door with the plushie in hand.

"I'll be back guys," I state, not turning back to get their answers.

"Alright!" Jasper and Monty yell, too busy mixing together concoctions of drinks and making Bellamy taste them.

Coming up to his car I see his head resting on the steering wheel, I knock on the door and I see his eyes peek out to see me, he still made no motion to move.

I sigh and walk to the passenger side door and get in.

"Murphy?" I ask, putting a hand on his shoulder, making him sit up to face me.

"What." He blankly stated. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a little hurt over his tone, but I pushed on for him.

"What's wrong?"

"Why are you here, y/n?" It was a genuine question, a dumb one, but genuine.

"What do you m-" He cut me off.

"Why are you here, acting like you care." His words stung, but it's now or never.

"I'm here for you, I'm here because I love you, Johnathan." I hadn't meant to say the last part with full confidence, and the look on his face turned into one of shock, the previous emotions long forgotten with my newfound confession.

Moments of silence passed and I took that as a sign to leave, I began opening the door but was stopped by his hand, it sent a chill down my spine.

"Did you mean that?" Murphy questioned, staring into my eyes, looking for any signs of deception or regret.

"I meant every part.." My voice wavered, becoming fully aware of the situation and how vulnerable I felt under his strong gaze and grip.

Before I even knew it his lips were on mine, the kiss was passionate and loving, full of months pent up with love, like it's what our lifelong goal was, to be here, in this car, with each other. No other care in the world.

I pulled away for air and fully examined him, the dusty pink that lined his cheeks, if I could take a picture of this I would.

"I love you too, but what is that?" He asked, pointing to the frog in my lap. I had completely forgotten about his present!

"Its for you!" I excitedly say, shoving the frog practically into his face

Murphy took it into his big hands and examined it all over, with a goofy grin on his face. He discovered the button and pressed it, my voice filling the air for a few seconds. He took a minute to translate the sentence in his head, but when he did he had the biggest smile as he kissed me again, and again, and again...

"Shall we go to the party, birthday boy?" I say in between little kisses.

"We could stay here, in the backseat." He replied, suggestively, I giggled at this

"Don't tempt me."

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

55 notes · View notes

hd-junglebook · 9 months ago

Text

Neutral

Part 1 : In the Shadow of Greatness

word count - 3,813

You stand in your mother's room, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort as you contemplate your future. Your eyes roaming over the family mementos lining the shelves - relics of a simpler past.

The weight of her expectations hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating reminder of the greatness you're expected to live up to.

You're tempted to change your mind, to refuse the mission and defy your mother's wishes. But before you can voice your doubts, she interrupts your thoughts with a sharp command.

"You have no choice but to go," she declares, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Our people need you. You must do this for them."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, stirring a sense of duty that you can't ignore. Despite your reservations, you know she's right. You may have doubts, but you also have a responsibility to your mother.

You drew in a shaky breath, gathering what courage was left in your body. "I just don't know if I'm ready for this..."

Before she can respond, the door swings open, and a guard enters the room, their presence a reminder of the reality of your situation.

"It's time," they announce, their voice devoid of emotion.

With a heavy heart, you follow the guard out of the room, your mother trailing behind you. As you make your way through the corridors of the Ark, you can't help but feel a sense of finality settling over you.

Outside the drop ship, the guard motions for you to board, their expression unreadable. You hesitate for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind.

A flicker of movement catches your eye, and you turn just in time to see a curly-haired guard slip onto the drop ship in front of you, but before you can react, they vanish into the shadows of the ship's interior.

Ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach, you push the unsettling sight to the back of your mind as you glance back at your mother, her eyes filled with determination, you know there's no turning back.

With a resigned sigh, you step onto the drop ship.

You may be Diana Sydney's daughter, but you're also so much more. You vow to make your mark on the world, to carve out a legacy of your own, one that shines as brightly as the stars themselves.

---

The drop ship shuddered as you and the other prisoners were herded aboard. The floor trembled beneath your feet as you were strapped into your seat, the metallic clang of restraints echoing through the cramped compartment. You were the last one to board the ship.

The hatch closing behind the guard echoing in the cramped space. You found yourself seated beside Clarke and Wells, their expressions mirroring your own mix of apprehension and determination.

Chancellor Jaha's voice boomed over the intercom, his words heavy with gravitas as he addressed the assembled prisoners.

"Prisoners of The Ark, hear me now. You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself.," he declared, his tone solemn.

“We have no idea what is waiting for you down there If the odds of survival were better, we would've sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."

The significance of his words hung heavy in the air as the drop ship's engines roared to life, drowning out any further explanation. With a lurch, the ship lifted off from the Ark, hurtling towards the distant planet below.

Clarke leaned in closer, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Return to Earth? But how?"

Jaha's voice swept over the group once more. " The drop site has been chosen carefully. Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years. But make no mistake, this is a one-way trip. There will be no return journey."

The turbulence of re-entry rattled the shuttle around you, sending a jolt of fear through your body. Shocks from the atmosphere shook through the vessel as it descended through Earth's atmosphere, jostling you and your fellow prisoners in your seats.

Clarke gripped the armrests tightly, her knuckles white with tension, while Wells tried to maintain a facade of calm despite the worry etched into his features.

Abruptly Wells broke the silence speaking to Clarke as the ship continued its descent, “Clarke, there's something I have to tell you. I'm sorry I got your father arrested.”

Just as turbulence around you reached its peak, Clarke's voice cut through the ship, sharp and accusing. "Don't you talk about my father, Wells!" she spat, her eyes blazing with anger. "If it weren't for you, my father would still be alive!"

Wells flinched at her words, his expression pained. "Please, I can't die knowing that you hate me," he shot back, his voice tinged with regret. "You know that."

Their argument filled the compartment, adding to the already palpable discomfort as the drop ship hurtled towards its destination.

Despite the chaos around you, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of the challenges you would face on Earth.

Wells reached out and squeezed your hand, his eyes locking with yours in silent reassurance. "We can do this," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around you.

And as the drop ship hurtled towards the surface of Earth, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you below.

With a final jolt that sent a shockwave through your body, the drop ship touched down on the planet's surface, kicking up a cloud of dirt that enveloped the vessel in the patch valley on earth.

---

**On the Ark**

The sterile walls of your mother's room felt suffocating as she laid out her plan, her expression grave and determined. She spoke with a fervent intensity, her eyes shining with determination as she sat in front of you.

"Our society is facing a crisis unlike any we have seen before,” she began, her voice echoing off the metal walls of the cramped quarters. "The Ark can't sustain us much longer. We need to find a solution, and we need to find it now."

You listened in silence, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to comprehend the magnitude of what she was proposing. To be sent to Earth, the very planet that had been deemed uninhabitable for generations, was a death sentence. And yet, there was a glimmer of hope in your mother's eyes,

“We have no choice," she Diana declared, her steely gaze boring into yours. "You must be the one to lead this mission. To sacrifice yourself for the greater good."

You shook your head weakly, "You're asking too much. I can't...”

“I know it's a lot to ask, but you are the only one who can do this for me. You must get arrested and be sent to Earth.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and you felt the weight of your mother's expectations bearing down on you. To be the one to leave the safety of the Ark, to journey to Earth.

“I can't”

She gripped your shoulders firmly , her nails digging into your shoulders. “You can, and you will. Think of the legacy you will leave behind, the hero who saved humanity from extinction.”

You jerked away from her. "I don't care about glory, Mom! I care about..." you faltered, emotions choking your voice.

Her eyes darkened. “About what y/n? About your own selfish desires? This is bigger than you. This is about the future of our people, about ensuring that generations to come will have a chance to live.”

You stared at the floor, despair and frustration simmering within your body. "There must be another way..."

"There is no other way," she interjected harshly. "Either you accept this mission, or you condemn us all to oblivion."

You finally met her piercing gaze again, anger inside your chest. "And if I refuse? What then? Will you cast your only daughter out like garbage?"

“Refusal is not an option y/n.” she snapped at you, struck by your defiance.

"But why me?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Diana's expression softened, a mixture of pride and sadness crossing her features. "Because you're the bravest person I know," she replied, her voice catching in her throat.

"Because you have the strength and the intelligence to succeed where others have failed.” She lifted your chin gently. “Because... because I believe in you."

Her words stirred something deep within your soul. Despite the fear and uncertainty gnawing at your insides, you knew that your mother was right.

“You don't have a choice, my dear. You are my daughter, and you will do as I say. You will accept this mission, or you will be condemning our family to death.”

"I'll do it," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I'll go to Earth."

Diana reached out, taking your hand in hers, her grip tight with determination. "Thank you, my child," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're the best hope we have."

Squaring your jaw, you gave her a single firm nod.

---

Consciousness slowly seeps back into your mind, you find yourself disoriented, the lingering effects of the drop ship's bumpy descent still echoing in your senses.

Blinking away the haze, you realize you're still strapped into your seat, the unfamiliar restraints digging into your skin.

Pushing yourself upright, you glance around the compartment, noting the absence of your fellow travelers. Panic grips your chest as you realize they must have already disembarked, leaving you behind.

With a sense of urgency, you unstrap yourself and stumble to your feet, swaying slightly as you brace yourself against the nearest surface. The drop ship is eerily quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the engines as they slowly wind down.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you make your way to the ladder that leads down to the first floor. The sound of your rings clanging off the metal of the bars.

You jump off the ladder searching the crowd for any familiar faces when your eyes catch sight of someone unexpected—a guard stationed at the door, his gaze fixed on the approaching delinquents.

Despite the disorder unfolding around him, he remains calm and composed, a striking figure amidst the turmoil.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as you lock eyes with the guard, his presence commanding your attention in a way you can't quite explain. There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite never seeing him.

You begin to push through the crowd, your eyes catch sight of the guard speaking to a raven-haired girl by the doors. Their exchange is terse, tension simmering just beneath the surface as they trade words.

Clarke's voice rang out in warning from her place in the crowd, her concern evident as she spoke. "No, we can’t just open the doors.” She continues, “stop! The air could be toxic."

The guard dismissed her concerns breezily, his confidence unwavering, “If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.”

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in a year.” The raven-haired girl snaps back at Clarke, her words sharp with frustration

A ripple of dissent passes through the crowd as the delinquents anonymously challenge her claim, “No one has a brother!”

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor," someone explained.

The pressure threatens to escalate as the delinquents continue to pitch in, but the guard intervenes, his authoritative voice cutting through the chaos,

“Octavia. Octavia no. Let’s give them something else to remember you by,” he says as he smiles at his younger sister.

Reluctantly, the raven-haired girl nods, her defiance tempered by the realization that she has little choice but to comply. “Yeah, like what?” she bites back.

The guard's voice swelled with pride. “Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.”

Octavia considered this for a second, the gears turning in her head as she headed to the door with a determined stride, her hand outstretched as she prepares to step onto the unknown surface below.

The crowd watches in silence, holding their breath, the girl's boots makes contact with the ground. For a moment, nothing happens, the world holding its breath in anticipation.

“We’re back bitches!” Octavia exclaims, sending a ripple of relief through the crowd.

You're greeted by the sight of your fellow delinquents racing ahead as your feet touch solid ground, their figures disappearing into the distance.

---

You and Wells climb down from the top of the dropship while you both discuss the concerning state of the wires atop the Ark, Clarke approaches with urgency etched into her features.

“We got problems. The communications system is dead. We went to the roof. A dozen panels are missing. Heat fried the wires.” You remark, voice tinged with worry.

Clarke wastes no time in redirecting the focus to their immediate priority. "Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather," she asserts, her voice resolute as she gestures to the map spread out before them.

"See? Look. This is us. This is where we need to get to if we want to survive."

You exchange a glance with Wells, a knot of worry tightening in your stomach at Clarke's words.

Wells, though concerned about the malfunctioning communications system, is quick to acknowledge the urgency of Clarke's point. "Where'd you learn to do that? Your father," he muses.

Jasper, ever the optimist, interjects with a lighthearted remark, eager to lighten the mood despite the gravity of their situation. "Ah, cool, a map. They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer," he quips, a hint of humor in his voice.

"It's not about beers, Jasper," you say with a wry smile, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. "It's about survival." You admired his positive attitude in such unfortunate circumstances.

Wells, however, remains focused on the task at hand, his expression serious as he turns back to Clarke. "You mind?" he asks, seeking permission to take a closer look at the map and join in the planning for their journey to Mount Weather.

Before you can respond, Bellamy Blake inserts himself into the conversation with his characteristic rudeness. "We're on the ground. That not good enough for you?" he challenges, his tone dripping with skepticism.

Wells, undeterred by Bellamy's hostility, presses on. "We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority."

Clarke, however, refuses to be drawn into their petty squabbles, ending their fight.

"Do you think we care who's in charge?" she retorts, her voice cutting through the tension. "We need to get to Mount Weather because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this'll be."

Bellamy, ever the provocateur, offers his own suggestion with a sneer. "I got a better idea. You three go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change."

Without a second thought, you step forward, closing the distance between you and Bellamy until you're mere inches from his face.

"Privileged? You think we're privileged?" you shoot back, your voice sharp with indignation. "We're all in this together, Bellamy. Every single one of us has to do our part if we want to survive."

Bellamy's sneer only fuels your anger. "We're alive. That’s what matters, that not good enough for you?" he retorts, his tone dripping with disdain.

"You have a better idea, Bellamy? Or are you just too afraid to get your hands dirty?" you retort, your voice laced with equal parts anger and defiance.

The tension between you crackles like electricity, the heat of your argument fueling an unexpected and undeniable attraction.

In spite of the gravity of your situation, there's a palpable energy between you that neither of you can ignore.

Bellamy's jaw tightens, his gaze challenging. "You think you know what's necessary? You think you're the one in charge here?" he scoffs.

Before your argument can escalate further, a voice interrupts from above. "Enough!" Finn's commanding tone cuts off your voice as he jumps down from the dropship, his presence immediately shifting the dynamic.

Clarke steps in, her voice firm. "We don't have time for this, Bellamy. Finn's y/n's right. We need to focus on finding Mount Weather."

Wells nods in agreement. "Let's get moving. The longer we wait, the harder this'll be."

Jasper, ever the optimist, chimes in. "I'm with you guys. Let's find that place and get some answers."

---

Your group ventured deeper into the unfamiliar woods, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer vastness of nature surrounding you.

Towering trees stretched their branches towards the sky, their leaves filtering the sunlight to create dappled patterns on the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of earth and pine, and the sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves filled your ears.

Clarke led the way, her eyes scanning the underbrush for any signs of danger as finn followed closely behind. Jasper and Octavia walked side by side, their laughter and banter breaking the quiet of the forest.

"You know, I've never seen anything like this," you remark, taking in the scenery with wide eyes. "It's like something out of a storybook."

Monty nods in agreement, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's amazing, isn't it? I never thought I'd get to see something like this."

As you continue along the winding path, you stumble upon a picturesque lake nestled among the trees. Its surface glimmered in the sunlight, inviting and serene.

Octavia's eyes light up at the sight, and before anyone can stop her, she's stripping off her clothes and diving into the cool, clear water.

“Octavia what the hell are you doing?”

You watch in awe as Octavia swims gracefully through the lake, her movements fluid and effortless. She's like a mermaid, ethereal and otherworldly in her beauty.

The water around her glistened in the sunlight as she continued to glide in the Lake.

But your admiration is short-lived as a sudden commotion erupts from the water. “Oh… Octavia, get out of the water! Get out of the water now!” Jasper screams from beside you, you run towards the edge contemplating jumping in. Octavia's joyful laughter turns to screams of terror as a snake slithers out from the underbrush and strikes at her.

Without hesitation, Jasper springs into action, leaping down the rocks to reach Octavia's side. You watch in horror as he runs to save Octavia from its grasp.

"Jasper, be careful!" you shout, your heart pounding in your chest as you scramble down the rocks to join them.

Jasper focused solely on the task at hand, his face a mask of determination. With a final, desperate push, the group manages to push a boulder into the other side of the clear water, sending the serpent away from Octavia, it’s large figure slithering back into the water.

You rush to Octavia's side, helping Jasper pull her out of the lake and checking her for injuries. She's shaken but barely harmed, thanks to Jasper's quick thinking and bravery.

"Thank you, Jasper," Octavia says, her voice trembling with emotion. "You saved my life."

Jasper smiles weakly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Just doing what anyone would do," he replies, his gaze never leaving Octavia's face.

"Note to self, next time, save the girl."

---

** On the Ark**

The air in your room on the Ark feels heavy with tension as you watch your mother enter. Without a word, she fixates on you with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Diana's expression is dark as she strides towards you, her movements calculated and precise.

There's a fire in her eyes, a dangerous spark that sends a shiver down your spine. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here. The daughter who thinks she knows better than her own mother."

"Mom, what's wrong? Why are you here?"

"Why am I here? Why do you think y/n? Because of you, that's why."

You recoiled at the venom in her words, the accusation hanging heavy in the air between you. "Because of me? What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's because of you that I've been removed from the council." She continues.

“It's because of your disobedience, your insolence, that I've been removed from the Council."

"Mom, please, you know I would never intentionally hurt you," you plead, your voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Her voice rises with each word, a crescendo of rage and frustration that threatens to consume you whole. You shrink back, feeling like a small, insignificant creature in the face of her wrath.

"Oh, I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses. You think you're so clever, so independent, but you're nothing but a fool. A foolish child who thinks she knows better than her own mother."

You feel the sting of tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“You've always resented me, haven't you? Resented the fact that. I'm more powerful, more influential than you could ever hope to be." Her words cut through the silence like a knife, each syllable dripping with scorn and resentment.

"That's not true!” You feel frustration and anger bubbling up inside you. "I'm not responsible for your mistakes, Mom. You brought this upon yourself."

"Don't make me laugh. You've always been jealous of me, jealous of my success, my power. And now you've finally gotten what you wanted, haven't you? You've finally managed to bring me down. Just like your father."

The mention of your father's name sends a pang of sadness through you as Diana's jaw clenches, her fists tightening at her sides. "You've always been so quick to shift the blame onto others. "

Her accusations hung in the air, poisoning the space between you as you struggled to find the words to defend yourself.

"He would never have wanted things to end up like this," you retort, your voice tinged with sorrow.

Diana's expression softens for a moment, a flicker of regret crossing her features. But then, just as quickly, it's replaced by a steely resolve. "It doesn't matter now.”

---

87 notes · View notes