#so like. her first aid skills suck ass but everyone recovers anyway because of all the luck in the floats

[fishatar]

glass fishing floats!

Glass fishing float mage 🔮 a medic who insists on giving patients a glass float "'balloon" at the end of their visit, which is said to help them stay afloat even through the roughest ailments.

[socoolraywoodbloghere]

Kiss It and Make It Better 2

Hey, y’all remember [this post] from uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 2016? Guess who wrote a second chapter

Why am I having a fanfic-writing renaissance? I literally don’t know. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8297977/chapters/47506960

Ray tapped at the DS’s buttons unthinkingly, the Pokémon battle taking absolutely zero priority in his mind. It may not have his interest, but he had to do something. He couldn’t just sit there and do nothing, even if this something wasn’t actually fucking helping.

There was a deep breath from the bed he sat beside, and Ray stiffened to attention. He watched the bandaged chest fall back down in a way that looked like it probably hurt, but Ryan didn’t otherwise stir. Ray let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Ray watched him, lying there. He’d been awake when they’d stumbled their way into the med bay, so they were at least pretty sure he wasn’t concussed. Just hurt. Just very, very hurt. Just so stupidly hurt. Ray volunteered to keep an eye on him until he woke up – wouldn’t be the first time one of them woke up hurt and popped stitches trying to get up. Jack tried to argue, say he should be resting too, but Ray insisted he probably wasn’t sleeping tonight anyway. To be fair, he wasn’t sure if Jack was – she gets so worried – but she can be worried about all the other things there are to be worried about. Ray’s got this one covered.

This whole thing is Ryan’s fault, anyway. Ray told him to get in the car and go. Ray told him he was fine and had his bike as backup. But then Gavin blew something up, some other pieces of the plan got rearranged on-site, and Ryan refused to leave until he was sure Ray was able to get out without getting caught. Which is stupid, because yeah, there were more police swarming the place than anticipated, but Ray usually gets out fine. The last time was a fluke, and he got out of the handcuffs before they even realized he was a Fake and not just some random criminal, so it really doesn’t count.

If Ryan had gotten out sooner… At least he won his stupid knife fight in that stupid alley. At least he didn’t fall off the bike while Ray raced to their medic. At least there weren’t any complications sewing him up or getting him to this safe house. Ray tried to be comforted by these thoughts, but he just couldn’t be – not without having Ryan wake up first. If Ryan were awake, Ray could tell him what an idiot he was and feel better. Right now, all he can do is think it and hope he gets to say it.

Ray sighed and returned to his game, mind wandering off elsewhere. Ray’s got to say, at least working for Ramsey gets them the best healthcare he’s ever had. And they’ve needed it. He can still feel the phantom pain of a shot to his leg from some pig chasing him. The shot wasn’t as bad as the scare of tumbling off the roof he’d been running on – he was way lucky to have gone off the side with the fire escapes.

Before Ramsey, when it was just little ol’ Ray against the world, he got himself pretty savvy in fixing himself up. Studied a combination of Red Cross first aid guides and Wiki-how articles and got by just fine. Should he have done this studying before going into the situations in which he became injured? Arguably. Did he live? Apparently. So, there’s always that.

Well, and it wasn’t all internet wisdom. He and his mom didn’t exactly have health insurance back in the days before… well, before the rest of his life. Bags of peas for bumps and bruises, store-brand bandages are no different than name-brand, VapoRub and honey for coughs. Not to mention his mother’s habit of just ignoring when things hurt and praying it went away. Well, and the kisses.

It definitely felt silly thinking back to it now, but he was, once-upon-a-time, an actual little kid who got treated like it. Whenever there was a cut or a scrape or a bump or a single trouble, his mother would fix him up the best she could, and kiss wherever it hurt. For all the good a couple bandages and some rubbing alcohol could do, Ray really had been convinced that the kissing did the actual healing. Kisses were love, and love was magic, and magic could heal and protect. That’s what his mom said, anyway.

They needed the protection, too, what with all the monsters lurking in the closet and under the bed and in Ray’s dreams. They looked like the landlord with his big cigar, like the teenagers down the street that messed around the whole day long, and like a weird fish monster he’d seen watching power rangers once. So long as they had their magic, though, nothing could touch them.

Ray smiled sadly to himself. He wished that was how it all worked. He wondered how his mom was doing; he knew, but only in a remote way. He knew she still lived in New York, had a better job and a better apartment, and that she was seeing someone (his background check cleared fine, so it wasn’t a concern). But those were all numbers and bullet points from some people he had keeping tabs on some stuff. They didn’t tell him how she was, how she felt and what she thought and the last thing she saw on TV and if she’d picked back up on knitting. He wished he could know. It’s not safe, though, for them to know each other, and even if it was, he doubts she’d be very proud of her son: the wanted criminal. Making your way in life as an assassin isn’t exactly the bright future someone wants for their child. It was better this way.

Ray leaned his head back against the wall and sighed deeply. Why does he bother to think about things that don’t matter? He glanced over at Ryan again. The only thing that matters at the moment is that Ryan wakes up at some point. Ray can’t help but laugh a bit to himself at the thought that a little bit of magic wouldn’t be too bad right about now. Kissing and making things better doesn’t work, though. He knows that and it’s a fact and the little voice in the back of his head that insists that maybe it does, though, is very stupid.

He’s not going to fucking kiss Ryan in his sleep, that would be weird. He’s not going to kiss Ryan at all ever, because he’s a friend and a coworker and he doesn’t like Ryan like that. He just thinks he’s hot – which is honestly an objective fact and therefor cannot be held against him – and smart and skilled and maybe Ray appreciates his upper arm strength more than normal, but he never claimed to be normal, so it’s fine. Everything is fine. Ryan is fine. Not that kind of fine, like hot fine, though he is that, but like fine as in physically like going-to-live fine.

Ray put a hand over his face to try and stop his brain from snowballing further. Why was he here? Why did his brain insist on rambling to itself about nothing? Oh, right, get-better kisses. Ray looked at Ryan. He has to admit, for a guy passed out from blood loss he looks pretty serene. The moonlight streaming in was definitely shading his features in an unfairly dramatic way. Ryan would be happy that he woke up in a suburban safe house, he likes getting away from the city every now and then.

Ray looked at the bandaging on Ryan’s chest, watching it all rise and fall with each breath. He tried not to think about how it looked when he’d helped the medic cut away the shirt, before he was shooed out of the room and made to wait outside for everything to stabilize. So stupid, putting himself in danger. The need to do something, anything, returned to Ray. He wished there was a way to help other than being patient. Being patient right now sucked. He needed to do literally at least something. Even if it was stupid.

It couldn’t really hurt anything, right?

Ray pressed his lips together and watched the bandages. Fuck it. “No homo,” he whispered as he bent down, and, before he could talk himself out of it, gave a soft, chaste kiss to the bandages. He pulled up and looked at them for a long moment, as if expecting something to suddenly happen. But nothing did.

Ray’s face burned in embarrassment and he sat back properly in his chair, burying himself in his DS. That was stupid, he felt stupid. Ryan being hurt is stupid. The Pokémon battle he barely realized he was in was stupid. This was all stupid.

It’ll all be better and be put back in the right place once stupid Ryan wakes up, already.

Until then, Ray will be right here watching his stupid ass and playing this stupid game.

--

Everyone – Jack, the medic, Ryan himself – was surprised at how fast Ryan recovered.

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Chapter 63: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 63/66 Word Count: 3082 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Octavia meddles again.

Also on AO3;  Start from the beginning on AO3

Clarke had the house to herself for the first time in over a week. Raven was working a night shift and Octavia was so busy planning for the senior recital that she hadn’t had any more chances to force a heart-to-heart with or about Bellamy.

All Clarke had done for the past couple weeks was think about their last conversation. It was driving her to distraction. When she sat down to try to paint or draw, nothing came out right. Even her ceramics class was turning out worse than usual and that was saying something.

To drown out the thoughts about how it might not be the end of the world if she asked Bellamy out on a date, an actual date, Clarke found an upbeat playlist on Spotify and blasted it at full volume while she put dishes away. The chore devolved into a dance routine and she bounced and twirled between cabinets and the dishwasher in her pajama shorts and an old t-shirt that she used to paint in before it got too worn out.

She grabbed a mixing bowl off the top rack and went to spin her way over to the cabinet it belonged in when a figure in the doorway made her jump. It only took a second to realize that it was Bellamy leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a small smile on his face, but her heart was still trying to beat its way out of her chest.

“Fuck, Bellamy, at least announce yourself next time.” Clarke was a little breathless. It was only partially because of the dancing.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, his smile growing into a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you always creep up on women while they’re doing chores?”

“Only when they’re dancing.”

“Right.”

“I mean, you’re hot, so that helps, too.”

Clarke rolled her eyes again, so hard it hurt. It almost felt like old times, like maybe he was teasing her. “Smooth, Romeo.”

Bellamy pushed himself off of the doorframe and crossed the room to take the bowl away from her to set it in the cabinet. “I’m guessing there isn’t a movie night tonight?”

Clarke tilted her head, watching him take over her job of putting the dishes away. “Who told you that we were having one?”

As soon as the question was out, she knew the answer. They both said, “Octavia,” in unison.

“She wanted to have a Star Wars marathon,” he added.

“Which movies?”

“All of them, I think.”

“How in the world did she think we would have time to watch seven movies in one night?”

He shrugged and set the last plate in the cabinet. When he turned to face her, she realized she had been staring at the way his shirt lifted to expose the smallest amount of skin when he reached up to put a plate away on a high shelf; the way it fit his shoulders too well. It did things to her that she had always tried to avoid thinking about. And she wanted… she wanted a lot of things. Most of all, she didn’t want him to leave.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours, Princess?” He smiled like he knew and thought it was the funniest thing in the world. His eyes drifted down to her legs and she realized that her shirt barely skirted the hem of her shorts.

Clarke busied herself with tying the hem of the shirt into a knot at her back, trying to not think about how cute he was when his cheeks flushed like that. “We could watch the movies anyway, if you want. I haven’t seen them in way too long.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything for a moment and Clarke started to panic. Because, what if he was acting so normal around her for once because he was over it? Over her? How could she have been thinking about ways to suck it up and ask him out while he was getting over her?

“If you want, I mean,” she said to fill the silence. “I’d like to watch the original ones again, but you don’t have to stay.”

He still didn’t say anything, but he started to walk toward her and she backed away until she hit the counter. There was less than two inches of space between them. His eyes flicked down to her lips. It was barely noticeable, but Clarke was pretty sure she could hear her heart pounding.

“What are you doing, Bellamy?” she asked breathlessly.

“Making popcorn.” He tore his eyes away from hers and reached into the cabinet behind her to grab a bowl before he turned and walked toward the pantry. “We’re not going to talk about anything, but we can eat a shit-ton of popcorn so that O has to go buy more if she wants any. Payback for her trying to force a conversation, right?”

Clarke could only nod as she recovered from the sudden lack of his presence, although she did allow herself to stare at his ass a little while he started up the microwave.

Halfway through A New Hope, it almost felt like a normal night. They were on opposite ends of the couch, which wasn’t normal, but the bowl of popcorn was in between them. It was a fragile barrier, a reminder of how different things were. Things could have been easy again if Clarke couldn’t feel the underlying tension radiating between them.

Tension may have been the wrong word, but it was the only one Clarke could think of that felt adequate. There was no stiffness in either of their movements and they would occasionally throw popcorn at each other, but Clarke had to force herself not to react if their hands brushed in the popcorn bowl.

About half an hour into Empire Strikes Back, Clarke moved the mostly empty bowl to the coffee table and scooted a little closer to the middle of the couch. The way his face was lit up by the screen… well, it just looked good. And she used to lay in his lap while they watched movies. Being far away felt weird and she didn’t want things to be weird anymore. It was a step in the right direction, she hoped.

A few minutes later, he scooted a little closer to the middle and flung his arm over the back of the couch. His fingers played with a strand of her hair and Clarke leaned back into it. With that small touch, everything felt like them again. She missed the easy touching. It used to be so simple. Or maybe it hadn’t.

Clarke felt like hitting herself, because how could she not have realized years ago that they were more affectionate with each other than with anyone else. It seemed normal to her, because it was how she grew up with Wells and she snuggled with Octavia or Raven sometimes, but that was mostly after they were a little drunk. She wondered if it was why Jasper had insisted on assigned seating at movie nights, because maybe he saw the way she would rest her head against Bellamy’s knee and the way Bellamy would play with her hair. Maybe he had been rooting for them.

A part of her had known when she asked him to stay to watch the movie where things might be heading, but as his fingers danced gently along her scalp, she found that it didn’t really scare her anymore. Not as much as it did before.

They stayed that way until he got up to switch the movies. When he came back, he sat down a little closer than before and Clarke stubbornly closed the distance between them. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and he winced. She immediately felt horrible and tried to pull away.

“I’m so sorry. Are your ribs still—”

He stopped her by grabbing onto her shoulder and pulling her back into his side. “I’m okay. I just can’t move my arm that fast.”

Clarke pulled away again, but not much and turned toward him. She pulled his shirt up and touched his ribs carefully. “You don’t need them to be bandaged anymore?”

“I haven’t for a while. The doctor says I’m good. Unless, of course, you’re just trying to get my shirt off.”

Clarke felt herself start to blush, but she couldn’t hold back her grin. “I think the whole world has seen you without a shirt on plenty of times.” She let his shirt drop and met his eyes.

Bellamy reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers sent shockwaves through her system. “I don’t know. You’ve only seen me with my shirt off when you were utilizing your impressive first aid skills.”

“And at the beach. And about half the hikes we’ve ever been on. And basically every time I’ve ever shown up at your place before everyone else.”

“You keeping track, Clarke?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You wish.”

“Maybe a little.” He licked his lips and Clarke fought back a shiver.

“What if I am?” She licked her own lips and bit her lip when his gaze dropped to follow the motion.

“Clarke….” He frowned a little, as though he just realized what was happening.

She frowned, too, because she didn’t want him to frown. She didn’t want whatever was happening to stop. It was the last thing in the world she wanted so she grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him.

Their first kiss had been gentle. Their second was anything but. It was full of everything she had been holding back and her teeth dug into the back of her lips. It hurt, but she was kissing Bellamy again. The minor and temporary inconvenience of pain didn’t matter.

It caught him off guard and he didn’t respond at first. She moved her hands up to his cheeks and kissed him again. And again. The shock must have worn off with the third kiss, because his lips finally softened under hers and his hands slid around her waist. His fingers dug into the small of her back when she swung a leg over his lap to straddle him.

The way he sighed when she ran her tongue along his lower lip made her wonder why she waited so long to kiss him again.

The way he slid one hand up her side until his fingers curled into her hair at the same time his other hand gripped her hip made her head spin.

The way he bit her lower lip twisted up everything inside of her.

The way he groaned when her hips swiveled made her wonder why they were still wearing clothes.

Clarke moved away from his mouth to kiss up his neck and take his earlobe between her teeth. He whispered her name when she ran her tongue up his ear. But then his hand wasn’t in her hair anymore. It was on her shoulder as he pushed her back. She pouted when the hand on her hip moved to her other shoulder.

“Clarke,” he said, completely wrecked, “just stop for a second.”

“Bellamy… why?” She ran her fingers along his arms until she could grasp his wrists. She was breathless again. It might have been the fear of why he pulled away or it could have been the kiss. “I want this. I thought you wanted this.”

“I do. I do,” he whispered. He settled on hand against her cheek again and ran his thumb along her cheekbone. “You’re just… you’re confusing the hell out of me right now.”

“How is this confusing?” She gestured at his lap with a smile, but he didn’t take the bait.

“Things used to be like this all the—” He cut himself off when she raised an eyebrow at him and he finally laughed. “Well, not like this. But you know, we used to sit around and watch movies and you’d always be touching me. I hoped that we could just be normal today, because I’m tired of not being around you.” He swallowed hard and dropped his hands. “It feels different now. It never felt different until….”

He trailed off and she frowned again. “Until we kissed?”

“It was different before, Clarke. For me, anyway.”

He looked down at his lap and she pulled back. He didn’t stop her as she pushed off of him and settled back into her seat. Clarke folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them, trying to figure out exactly when their touches and jokes had started to mean more.

It made her think about her freshman year when things with Roma had fizzled out and he stopped bringing random hookups around. It made her think about how his relationship with Gina had just ended and he had never told her why. It made her think about what Lexa said when they broke up; how he punched Finn in the nose; how he had waited up after that date Jasper tried to set her up on a couple years back.

Maybe she had misinterpreted the motives behind everything they ever did for each other. Maybe she hadn’t. Even before she knew she had feelings for him, he was the only person she always wanted to be around, whether or not she would have admitted it. Maybe she finally understood why nothing else ever worked out for either of them. But she couldn’t figure out when her feelings had become more. Had they always been more?

Her stomach was tied in knots, because she had no idea if any of it meant what she thought it meant; what she hoped it meant. She looked back over at him and he was still staring at his hands, so she reached over and grabbed one. It was enough to get him to look up.

“When was it different?” Her voice was weak, but she needed to know.

His shoulders dropped as he sighed and turned to face her, pulling one leg up onto the couch. “Clarke, I….” He shook his head. “You don’t want to talk about this.”

“I asked!”

Bellamy studied her for a long time and she made sure she kept eye contact. After a moment, he dropped his gaze again. “You said it isn’t worth the risk. Are you really going to be able to pretend you don’t know how I feel if I say it out loud?”

Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart down. The effort was futile, because when she looked back at him, she was immediately lost in his eyes again. “What about what I feel? Can we really pretend that we don’t know—” She cut off when a door slammed outside. “Shit.”

Bellamy let his head fall back against the couch. “Shit. Which one is that?”

Clarke grabbed the remote off of the table and turned the movie down a little bit, trying not to laugh. “You remember that your sister doesn’t own a car?”

Bellamy chuckled and Clarke stifled a giggle into her palm. “I know that. I just thought Linc—”

They both covered their mouths, almost erupting into a new wave of laughter when they heard Raven’s muffled shout outside. “Oh my god, O, are you okay?!” Bellamy and Clarke looked at each other, eyes wide They couldn’t hear Octavia’s response. “They’re going to kill you!”

“They are not going to kill me,” Octavia’s voice was clearer. “They are going to be too busy making out to kill me. You know Clarke gets weird romantic feelings about Han and Leia.”

Bellamy poked Clarke in the shoulder and she smacked his hand away. She would kill O later, even if she was right.

“Can you hear the speeder? That is clearly Return of the Jedi, so unless they took a break from making out to change the movie, you’ve been waiting out here for nothing.” The door unlocked and they jumped apart, but not as far as they would have earlier that night. “Clarke? You in here?”

“We’re in here,” Bellamy called.

Raven poked her head in cautiously. “Star Wars marathon?”

Clarke smiled. “Sorry you missed most of them. You want to finish this one with us?”

“Are you watching the next one tonight or are you going to bed after this one?”

“I’ve got to map out some more practice curriculum in the morning,” Bellamy said quickly. “I might actually head out now. Do I need to go pick up Octavia from the studio?” His question was a little too innocent and Clarke elbowed him. She didn’t even feel bad when he grunted.

“I’m already here,” Octavia yelled sulkily before she stomped up the stairs.

“I’m going to call it a night, then,” Raven said, rolling her eyes. “See you in the morning, Clarke.”

“Night, Raven,” Clarke said.

When they heard both bedroom doors close, Clarke turned back to Bellamy and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know I didn’t want to talk before,” she whispered, “but maybe we can meet for coffee tomorrow?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but couldn’t hold in a grin. “What time?”

“Ten-thirty?”

Bellamy nodded and stood. Clarke watched him walk toward the door, trying to force down the nerves that threatened to overwhelm all of the good things she was feeling. She knew what she wanted. She still wasn’t quite sure, but she thought she knew what he wanted, too.

He paused at the doorway and turned back. “Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

He smiled. It was a small, sweet smile, and it made her want to kiss him again. “It’s been three years.”

Clarke’s eyes went wide and he left before she could think of a response. Even though she was alone, she could feel her face heating up and she covered it with her hands. It took a long time for her to feel like she could try to go to sleep. She was more distracted by his semi-confession than she was by the lingering memory of their kisses.

But she needed to sleep, because she was going to see Bellamy in the morning. For a moment, she was tempted to wake up Raven and ask her what she should wear. Only for a moment, though, because if things went the way Clarke hoped they would, she wanted to keep it to herself for a while.