#the silence in abby's non-response is so telling

[hurtingbuck]

[rhyrhy]

HEAR ME OUT. Abby reuniting w reader after they lost each other (bonus points if Abby thought reader died or sum shit) and the go to the WLF base and live happily ever after the end

OH IM LISTENING!! YOU’VE BEEN HEARD! 💐 TY 4 request!

Cw: she does hit you once! but it’s protocol/ protecting herself!

Reconnected with Abby

You and Abby were inseparable once. When the outbreak started, the Fireflies took both of you to Salt Lake City, where her father worked tirelessly on a vaccine for the Cordyceps infection. In the mess of it all, You had each other.

But then, the unthinkable happened.

The Fireflies scattered, the hospital fell, and Abby swore she saw your body amidst the sea of death as she reluctantly fled St. Mary’s with Manny and Owen. She struggled to mourn the loss of her father…and you.

Her last sense of normalcy, now gone.

Years Before the Chaos

“You’re joking, right?” A Younger Abby leaned back on her hands, eyebrows raised. As you suggested an experimental ‘quick peck’. What’s the harm?

“What? Scared you’ll like it?” you teased, and lowered your voice to emphasize.

Her braid slipped over her shoulder as she tilted her head, like she was considering your silly suggestion. Her eyes don’t move from your face as a beat of silence passes over you both…But Once your eyes flick to her lips and triangle back to her eyes she feels a small flutter of butterflies in her gut

“You sure?” She leans forward on her hands. Head still tilted. As a small smile spreads on her pink lips.

Once you noded, a shy kiss was completed. Oh, it felt so right, not that you’d tell your friend that out loud. lucky for you though, you didn’t have to.

Her eyes fluttered opened slowly as you both pulled away. The once small smile now a full blown grin planted on her face. The tension in the air now, was borderline electric. Heart now hammering in her chest. Honestly, Her lips lingered on yours, just a hair too long to feel entirely platonic.

“A ‘peck,’ huh?” she teased, her comment full of amusement.

Before you could come up with a snarky response , she tugged you closer, her lips capturing yours in a deeper, now, non experimental kiss.

The room around you seemed to disappear as you lost yourselves in the moment.

Now, Years later

When the Fireflies disbanded, Abby found a new purpose with the WLF, throwing herself into the structured life of the militia.

One cold evening during a patrol shift, Abby’s thoughts were elsewhere. Her heavy boots crunched against the fallen leaves scattered across the ground as she patrolled outside the base. Feeling a bit restless, she truly couldn’t wait for a hot shower with her favorite scent of pine filling her nostrils and soothing her skin.

The night hit quickly as she stayed sharp, and alert.

She took a breath, rolling her neck to ease her tension lingering in her body. Untill she heard it. Movement in the shadows, And frantic.

She immediately drew her weapon, the cold metal familiar and moved with ease in her strong grip. She cautiously, braced herself as she moved forward. Steps almost catlike. Hearing her heartbeat fill her ears, and then with a solid swing, she knocked the figure to the straight to the foliage.

Her weapon pointed at the figure ready to shoot if necessary and go on about her business.

It wasn’t until she heard a groan and plea to not shoot, that she realized it wasn’t an infected, it was another person. A woman. The hell was she doing out here alone.

“Don’t move,” she ordered, her voice cold and commanding. With no room for rebuttal. Once you complied, head still down in fear and shock. Her next command rung out into the night.

“On your knees,” she barked, stepping closer. Cold metal pressing against your temple as a warning and precaution.

And once The moonlight finally caught the stranger’s face, pouring from the trees, everything seemed to stop.

The weapon in Abby’s grip wavered, the cold metal lowering as her breath stuck in her throat. There you were, grown up, kneeled, And terrified in front of her.

“…A-Abby..?” You whispered, in pure disbelief. Scanning over the now grown woman and harden soldier above you.

For a few moments, neither of you moved. This couldn’t be real, could it? Only confirmed by her sudden surged forward, wrapping you in an embrace so tight. her rifle clattering to the ground.

“Jesus…I ..I thought I lost you,” she whispered, her voice full of disbelief.

And as she held you there, at a loss for words.

It felt like for the first time in years, her world was a little less broken.

—-

ONG THIS MY FAV SHORT WRITING SO FAR! 💞 (calling this one lost and found!)

[starrywilliams]

baby i’m yours - abby anderson

and i’ll be yours until the stars fall from the sky. yours until the rivers all run dry. in other words, until i die

fem reader x abby anderson

synopsis: abby anderson hates seeing her girlfriend upset, so decides to show you just how much you mean to her.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: bad writing ??, general non-apocalyptic au, smut w a tiny bit of plot, top abby, oral sex (r receiving), fingering, some pet names, overstimulation, slightly insecure reader, not proof read !!

notes: i was gonna send this into someone’s asks but i thought it easier just to write it myself. so if it’s bad , ummm pretend it isn’t. wanted to add abby fucking r with her strap too but decided against it… so lmk if u want a pt 2 or something !!

it all started at a party. the music was loud and you were just a little tipsy, abby the designated driver as usual. she was talking to one of her friends beside you, rambling on about something you’d lost track of a long time ago. you could hear she was getting slightly angry as the conversation progressed, so you grabbed her hand to calm her down, y’know? but she decided to pull away. leaving you stood there embarrassed and feeling extremely awkward.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay?” you mumbled seconds later, not staying long enough to hear her response: if there even was one. you cursed when you tried to open the door, finding it was locked. from the smoke filled air and bottle covered surfaces, everywhere felt crowded. more crowded than you deal with right now, so you made your way out onto the, thankfully empty, small terrace that would grant you refuge.

clearing your lungs with a deep inhale, sobering up slightly while looking out into the darkness. she’d dropped your hand. maybe it was the alcohol making you overthink it, but you weren’t THAT drunk. abby always let you hold her hand, she knew you got nervous at these things. so you couldn’t understand why she didn’t this time. was she angry at you? had you done something wrong without realising? this spiral would’ve continued if it hadn’t been for a voice behind you.

“baby, what are you doing out here?” abby asked, voice laced with a slightly worried tone, as she kneeled down in front you. “nothing.” you choked, trying to avoid the tears that had accumulated in your eyes. “thought you said you were going to the bathroom?” she said, putting a hand on your knee. “it was full.”

she pouted, looking you up and down with concern. “d’you wanna go? i won’t mind.” she smiled, pushing your hair behind your ear in an attempt to cheer you up. biting your lip, you nodded, standing up. you walked silently behind her to the car, not really wanting to talk.

abby opened the door for you and held your side as you got inside. you took a deep breath as she walked around to the driver’s seat, knowing she would have questions. she slipped in, putting on her seatbelt and starting the car. abby let the sound of the radio fill the car for a few moments, driving away from loud house out onto the dimly lit street.

after what felt like a lifetime of awkward silence, she turned the dial down. “so you gonna tell me what’s the matter?” she said softly, gripping the wheel tightly as she did. “it’s nothing.” you muttered before looking down to your fumbling hands. “it didn’t seem like nothing.”

“well, it was. okay?” you snapped; voice croaking as you finished. abby frowned, turning to you as you reached the red light. “have i done something?” her voice was low - accusatory - and her eyebrows were furrowed. you looked up to the green light, “go.” she huffed, sticking her tongue into her cheek before nodding to herself. “so i have.” she whispered. “abby-“ you started. “what did i do?”

“it was nothing, i’m just overreacting.” you rambled, quietly thankful you’d reached your street so you could get out of this seemingly tiny car. “no, i must’ve done something. so tell me.” she sounded calm, words slow and sure. but you knew she was the opposite. she parked outside your apartment building, having failed to answer her request, you quickly got out and rushed towards your door, her not far behind you. “i asked you what i did to make you upset. answer me, please.” you pushed the key into the lock, turning it and pressing down on the handle before finally answering. “you dropped my hand.”

“i- what?” abby replied, laughing softly. “knew you’d think i was being stupid.” you whispered, throwing your stuff onto the side as you walked towards the kitchen. “i don’t think you’re being stupid. just tell me when this happened.” you grabbed a glass, “before i said i was going to the bathroom, you were talking to whats-his-face when i tried to hold your hand and you let go like- immediately.” you went on, finishing as the water reached the top of the glass.

“no it wasn’t like that.” she shook her head as you faced her, your furious pout not seeming to approve of her response. “it sure seemed like it.” you hissed, pushing past her towards your bedroom. you could hear her footsteps heavy on the floor behind you. “no, baby stop. sweetheart listen to me.” you pushed the door open, settling the glass down on the nightstand. “okay talk.” you began to undress, wanting to just go to sleep already. you were fully sober now, and very tired.

“i didn’t mean to drop your hand, i was about to get an eyelash off your face- but you pulled away before i could!” you looked up to her, sighing with a mix of relief and adoration for the girl. “oh abs. i’m so dumb.” you said as you stood up. softly smiling, you wrapped your arms around her waist and leant your head against her chest. “you’re not stupid, okay- maybe a little.” she joked, kissing your forehead. “how about i make it up to you?” she whispered in your ear before pressing her hips against yours “yeah, good idea.” you mumbled, slightly breathless.

that’s how you found yourself laid back on the bed with her whispering sweet nothings against your skin. each kiss against your thighs was making your patience disappear more and she could tell. “you sound so pretty like that.” you looked down at her, meeting her darkened eyes. “so fucking desperate for me.” you caught a glimpse of a smile before her tongue delicately made its way through your folds. the noise you made when she reached your clit was borderline pornographic, let’s just hope your neighbors weren’t in tonight.

feeling her tongue swiping back and forth against your needy little clit, your hands reached to her scalp; pulling her hair softly as you pulled her closer. “hands off baby.” you groaned, having to use your hips to get her closer. “abby, fuck.” you whimpered, thighs suddenly tightening around her head. “mhm.” she hummed, looking up to you again. “look at me.” she said against your pussy, moving her head lower once you did. “those fucking eyes.” she mumbled before slowly pushing her tongue into your hole, smirking as she felt it pulse around her. she moved it around slowly, before pulling back out just to thrust it back in again.

then she stopped. deciding to now leaving soft, far too gentle kisses around your lips. close to where you needed, but ever so far. “please don’t stop.” you whispered, screwing your eyes closed as if that would hurry her up. perhaps it worked, as you instantly felt two fingers push roughly inside you. your hips bucked upwards, a loud whine rolling out of your throat. “look so good for me, taking it so well.” she cooed, using her other hand to spread your lips. “your clit’s so swollen baby, want me to take care of it?” abby asked, her hot breath against it making you go crazy. you nodded, not receiving anything in return.

“use your words baby, tell me what you want.” she spoke, slightly mockingly as she dragged out the final word. feeling her large fingers thrusting inside of you relentlessly, you were almost rendered speechless entirely. but you managed to stutter out a “please touch my fucking clit abby.” that had her immediately suckling on it like a starved woman. the added sensation had you quickly getting closer and closer, that knot in your stomach tightening more by the second.

“feel so tight around my fingers, pretty. gonna cum for me?” she said, instantly returning to her assault on your clit while her fingers pressed against that spot inside you that made you see stars. you made some kind of noise to tell her yes before the cord snapped and you were drowning in her. “that’s it, sound so fucking beautiful when you cum.” abby hummed, stretching out the beautiful as her fingers started thrusting even faster. your legs snapped together as you pulled away, but a hand pressed down firmly on your hip, keeping you locked in place.

“you can take it can’t you? i just want you to feel good baby.” she cooed, keeping her pace rapid. “it’s too much.” you cried out, feeling your twitchy clit sting at the continued pressure against your insides. “you can take it.” she said, whether it was to reassure you or simply an order, you didn’t know. but to be honest, you didn’t care. you were gonna take it whether it hurt or not.

“fuckfuckfuck-“ you whined, feeling that knot tighten back up again. but with her fingers fucking into you like that, it felt so, so much more overwhelming. your mind was just chanting abby on repeat, and perhaps your mouth was too - you were too out of it to know.

then it was like a fucking explosion inside you, limbs spasming around her as your mind went foggy. you gripped onto the bed for some kind of relief from the pleasure that was consuming your every cell, but eventually you were just fucking floating. abby pulled her fingers out at some point, before softly licking up the mess you’d made all over your thighs. she left to go and grab a warm cloth, wiping you down before cleaning her face.

abby pulled your underwear back up your legs gently, stroking your hips as she did so. “i’d never drop your hand.” she whispered. you smiled at her, eyes barely open. “maybe you should, if it’ll end like this.” you joked, eliciting a small laugh from her.

she may have never dropped your hand after that, but she did fuck you until you saw stars, that’s for sure.

[marks-bby]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤPRAY YOU CATCH ME

lulu's notes ! ; i am so srry for being inactive. i have no excuse tbh. but have this! based off of beyonce's pray you catch me

ingredients :: angst, cheating, mike having dreams abt cheating, breaking up, vanessa being that girl

"i'm going to go find some blankets." vanessa stands up, walking away to retrieve blankets for abby's fort. mike's eyes focused on vanessa's backside as she walked away, hips swaying to a non-existent beat.

"i'm going to use the restroom." mike leaves you no room to comment before he runs away, heading away from the bathroom. you watch him with furrowed brows, trying to understand why mike was so weird recently.

since he had picked up a job at the pizzeria, the state of your relationship was declining. mike had barely made eye contact with you, he didn't notice your presence at all. whenever you did talk, it was all about vanessa.

vanessa this. vanessa that.

you couldn't remember the last time mike had been so passionate about something. let alone someone.

it might have been your paranoia but mike was taking a long time to be only using the restroom. "abby, how long ago did vanessa go get the blankets?" you interrupt abby and bonnie's play session. she shrugs, "i don't know. she's been taking too long."

you pout, thinking of the next course of action for you to do. trust mike and pray he's being faithful or investigate and bust his ass.

your gut was screaming at you to stand up and find out what was taking you so long. your body felt weak with each step to took, getting closer to the storage room.

"your girlfriend is right outside this room and you decided to make a move on me?!" through the closed door, you could hear vanessa's upset voice. your stomach sank. you fucking knew it. mike was a liar.

"look, i'm sorry. i-i don't know what came over me." mike stammered as he tried to de-escalate his current situation. "just don't say anything."

and he was a pussy?! you really do know how to pick them.

you humorlessly chuckle to yourself. all these times you called yourself crazy for suspecting he was a cheater. all the times you tried to push those feelings deep down in your stomach. it was all useless.

you heard them shuffling towards the door. in a panic, you rush back to abby's fort, painting yourself happy as if you hadn't just heard them arguing. "hey, baby." mike slides beside you, kissing your cheek. you force yourself to not cringe and let him kiss you.

walking behind him was a pissed vanessa. the both of you meet eyes, telepathically sending each other the same message. mike follows your line of sight, panicking as he thought vanessa was about to speak. "uh abby! it's past your bedtime isn't it?" he nervously chuckles, looking for a safe way to get the three of you to go home.

"but mike!" abby whines. "nope! you have school in the morning." mike stands up to scoop abby in his arms. gesturing his head to tell you to get up.

abby was asleep in the back of mike's car as he drove you three of you home. you looked out the window, watching the tree pass by in a dark night. the pregnant silence was making mike nervous. the only source of sound was abby's light snores and the radio which was playing a station mike despises. "did you have fun?" mike breaks the silence.

you hum in response. you knew if you spoke, you would've woken up abby due to your yelling. "you-you look pretty."

mike only stuttered around you if he was hiding something. "did you have fun, mike?" your eyes were still on the window. "yeah. i loved making the fort with you and abby."

"nothing else?"

"just you two." he smiles.

his dishonesty was on his breath; you could taste it in the air. and he passed it on so casually. every word he let out was a lie. it was like being truthful wasn't in his code.

vanessa giggles as she straddles mike's hips, his hands softly gripping her hips. "are you sure she doesn't suspect us?" she whispers on his lips before closing the gap between the two of them. "she doesn't suspect a thing." he bites her lip teasingly.

this is how it was supposed to go. mike wanted to be this close with vanessa--this intimate. it felt right for him.

lips still attached to each other, mike sees you standing there, watching this unravel. "[name]!" mike quickly pushes vanessa off of him. as he scrambles to find the right words, he takes note of your face. you were upset but you were softly smiling. you took the opportunity to speak before him.

"what are you doing, my love?"

mike gasps awake, his chest heaving. "fuck." he groans, rubbing his forehead. on instinct, he rolls over to your side, hugging your body. except...you weren't there. matter of fact, none of your things were there. the slippers you left at the side of the bed. your favorite perfume you used to leave on his dresser. none of it.

"no, no." mike scrambles out of his bed, running outside to see if your car was still parked in his driveway. in defeat, he sulks back into his house. it felt so empty without you. you were what brought the house together. you made lively.

he was now facing the consequences of not cherishing what was in front of him--what he needed.

[blazenka]

Mirroring Identities

Connor Temple believed he was close to returning to his own timeline and home. Instead he finds himself in a world that should not exist while he struggles with non-existent memories. Can he ever remember his identity? Pre/post Alice. Post Primeval S3.

Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6106179/1/Mirroring-Identities

Chapters: 13

Published: 2010-07-03 - 2010-09-06  

Words: 19945

Rated: Fiction T - Language: English - Genre: Romance/Drama - Characters: Abby M., Hatter - Reviews: 86 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 15

Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

a

b

Chapter 7:

Alice, David and Sir Lester occupied the conference room with an uncomfortable silence. "Is it possible at all that Mr. Hatter could be Mr. Temple? Perhaps suffering from a case of amnesia?" Lester prompted the two. "Honestly mate, sounds like somethin' out of a movie," David commented as he moved his hand over towards Alice's only to have her pull her own hand away.

David sighed tiredly at her cold behavior since this was how she had acted for the last two hours. Upon seeing her reaction Lester stood and spoke, "Maybe it would be best if I left you two and see if I could get some refreshments." "Tea?" David looked hopeful at him. "Possibly," Lester answered as he left the room and shut the door.

Lester moved to another room where the two could not see him. "Thought you were getting refreshments?" Abby asked him as he entered the break room. "I have secretaries for that. Were you eavesdropping, Ms. Maitland?" he asked.

All she did was glance up for him to receive his answer. "Of course you were," he realized and moved to the grab a cup of coffee. "Are you alright, Abby?" he asked with uncharacteristic concern. "Well, I was," she began to say before Lester unapologetically interrupted her, "Until Mr. David Hatter arrived?" She shook her head in response, "No, I was fine until you took me off field duty," she snapped.

"Oh, so it has nothing to do with Mr. Hatter?" he asked her. "Of course not," she said in plain denial. "Well, guess you may try to talk to him and his fiancé since Dr. Page had no luck," he stated while drinking his coffee.

"I'm sure I….Did you say fiancé?" Abby asked in shock. "Yes, Ms. Hamilton is Mr. Hatter's fiancé. Did you not see her ring?" he responded.

In all honesty, Abby was too concerned with David to really peer at Alice, that and she really did not want to look at the woman who was obviously involved with the Connor look alike.

"Well, I have to get my secretary to find some refreshments for the couple and then talk to their embassy," Lester stated dryly as he left the room and left Abby to her thought. 'Marriage,' she thought, not daring to say anything out loud in this place.

If David was Connor then he was about to marry another woman. He was ready to settle down and have a happy little life in America, and away from her. If David was… 'But he's not,' she clarified to herself, 'He just can't be.'

Alice glanced around the well lit window walled room as she tried to ignore David's glances. "Alice," he asked cautiously. 'Might as well ask him,' Alice thought and sighed. "Did you love her?" she asked abruptly while she turned to face him.

"What? Who?" David asked with confusion. "Abby, the girl in the photo," she clarified. "I don't even know her, like I've been telling you. If I remembered any of these people…" he paused to run his hand in his hair, "But I don't. I don't know any of them. Even if I did remember them it wouldn't matter," he stated.

"Oh, why not? I think it would," she snapped. "Because it would not change how I feel about you," he told her with all the conviction in his heart as he stared right into her blue eyes. "I love you, Alice. Nothing is going to change that," he told her.

"Nothing possibly could," he reassured her as he leaned closer to her. "I was thinking," she said and then took a deep breath, "Maybe we could get in contact Jack. He might be able to help us figure this out." David stared at her before nodding.

"Hopefully he would know something," he agreed. "You won't mind?" she asked skeptically. "Oh, I'm not thrilled about it but the sooner we get this whole matter settled, then the sooner we can go home," he informed her as he wrapped his hand around hers. Alice smiled at the gesture and held his hand closer to her.

"Alice… I…" he began until the door swung open. "Mr. Hatter. Ms. Hamilton," a short blonde haired woman said in some sort of greeting. The couple jumped away from each other before returning her greeting, "Hello Ms. Maitland."

"I thought Lester was going to bring us refreshment?" David asked as she sat down. "No, he has secretaries for those sorts of things," she answered. "No tea then?" David smiled his cheeky grin. Abby glanced away from him before she could answer, "No, no tea." David frowned but quicky turned it into a smile for Alice.

Abby could not help but to shudder at the two before announcing, "I have some information to go over with you and more questions for you to ask before I can give you release forms to go home." "Release form?" Alice questioned her.

"Yes. This is a secret government facility so we need you to sign to secrecy for sake of our nation," she explained. "Like Homeland Security?" Alice continued to question and Abby nodded her answer.

Alice sighed with realization and asked fearfully, "And if we don't sign them?" "Then we have to keep you here but if you do sign the forms then you will be able to go home to your nice hotel room tonight," Abby answered her with her harsh serious tone. Alice and David nodded and Abby opened a folder to begin.

Alice sighed with relief as she flopped down onto the bed. Even if they were not home, it was comfortable enough that she could forget about the stress and heart ache of that day for a moment.

Suddenly a cell phone appeared in front of Alice's face being held by David's hand. "Jack," he commanded more than reminded her and he waved in more promptly in front of her.

Alice gowned, "Now?" she asked. "Yes now. I want to deal with this as soon as possible and have a resolution just as fast, love. You can even inform him we're engaged," David finished with a smile. "Fine," she relented and got up to take the phone.

Alice was able to contact Jack easily considering she had his personal cell phone number. The information of the day's events disturbed him greatly as she told him everything that happened to the best of her abilities.

No matter how weird today was for Alice she was still surprised when Jack informed her that he would be in England tomorrow morning to hopefully give them some answers.

When Alice finally got off the phone with Jack she inwardly sighed. Even though David wanted Jack's help, he was not going like hearing about Jack's visit. Yet Alice knew she could not put it off so she decided to go look for him.

Alice found David lying contently on their bed with his fedora casually slumped over his eyes. She smiled at the memory of them in Charlie's camp. An arm laid straight out on the bed caught her attention along with the finger beaconing her.

"Hey," he whispered as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder while she laid her head down upon his chest. "Hey," she replied back cuddling closer to him, "I talk to Jack and…" she paused. "He will probably be here in the next day or so," he finished for her.

"Tomorrow morning," she corrected him, "How did you know?" "I guessed but knew he would demand something like this when he would find out," he answered her. She nodded in understanding as she peered up at him.

He glanced down at her from under the brim of his hat, "He cares for you. I know if things turned out different I would be there as fast as I could if you were in trouble." He smiled down at her and she returned it while saying, "But things aren't different, they are the way I want them. I would go through a thousand of these days to keep it that way."

"I hope it does not come to that. I want to go home already and we haven't even done any sightseeing," he stated with a pout and Alice laughed. She stopped immediately when David's fingers lightly traced her jaw bone.

"Da… Hatter," she gasped as his fingers moved lower. "I don't mind being called David, love. This is your world, even if it's not your country. That is my name now," he stated as he moved her closer and underneath him. "But you're my Hatter," she informed him as she wiggled when his hands moves over the sides. "Quit it, you now I'm ticklish!" she said as her laugh returned. "I am well aware, love. And I am counting on that," he whispered as he smiled down at her. She beamed a smile back as she reached over to the side table and turn off the lights.

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[extasiswings]

"Tell Me" for Buddie? Doesn't have to be a love confession, whatever strikes your inspiration!

So, this is a follow-up to this fill for @from-nova because I promised I would fix it! See, just trust me. 

Buck might be a bit of a masochist. That seems like the only explanation for how he gets himself into these situations—the entirely avoidable and predictable ones that are virtually guaranteed to end in tears.

The thing is...Buck’s pretty sure he should have figured out that he’s in love with Eddie a long time ago. Because when he looks back, there’s been something from the beginning. Only, at first he was still—desperately, pathetically—pretending that Abby was coming back, and then he found out that Eddie was married and promptly buried any non-platonic thoughts about his best friend so deep that he really did forget for awhile that they were there at all.

He should have started putting it together after the ladder truck, after the tsunami, after the lawsuit—there was a space that Shannon left behind and he slipped into it easily, without even thinking, just because he wanted it. He wanted to matter, wanted to be wanted, to be needed, to make himself useful, and he never deluded himself into thinking he could act like a parent to Christopher, but...he was family. Eddie was his best friend and Buck felt like he was part of their family, folded seamlessly into the unit. They wanted him, Eddie trusted him. He fit. So...he stayed. He stopped looking for anything else.  

He hadn’t needed anything else.

So...yeah. Maybe he should have gotten a clue a lot sooner. But instead, Eddie started dating Ana and Buck felt sick about it without knowing why. And then one day, Eddie told him he was going to bring Carla over to have dinner with Ana and Christopher and Buck—

It hit him like a brick.

He’s been working a lot on his abandonment issues in therapy. So it caught him by surprise a bit—the panic, the jealousy, the thread of possessiveness. At least, until he sat with his feelings and realized—

He wasn’t afraid of being replaced in Christopher’s life, or even of being replaced fully in the family unit the three of them have—he’s gotten to a place where he’s secure enough that he doesn’t think he would just be pushed out. But in Eddie’s life—

They’re best friends, sure, but they’re more than that. They’re partners.

And he realized in an instant that was what the jealousy was about. Being replaced in that role. The idea that someone else would be there for Eddie in the late nights and early mornings, that someone else would be the recipient of Eddie’s soft looks and hushed confessions and casual touches, that someone else would be in his home, in his bed—

You want him, his mind whispered. You love him. And everything he’d been forcing himself not to think about or feel for years made his heart race.

“Buck?”

An instant. To turn his whole world upside down. And Buck hadn’t been sure whether he was going to laugh or throw up when he opened his mouth to give Eddie a response, but blessedly it was neither.

“Great,” he forced out. “That’s great.”

Eddie and Ana broke up after that dinner. 

But Buck hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. About being in love with his best friend and the fact that sooner or later Eddie will find someone who will stick and there’s nothing Buck can do about it.

Well. He could tell Eddie how he feels. But that’s—

Stuck, that’s what he is. Between a rock and a hard place.

Tell him, and risk losing everything, including his friendship. Or don’t tell him, and keep the friendship but lose the rest of him down the line.

What Buck needs is space. Away from Eddie, away from—not Christopher necessarily, but the collective that is the Diaz boys. Mental space at least. Emotional space, if not physical. Just enough to get his head on straight and figure out what the hell he’s doing.

Except...Eddie is suddenly everywhere. With his soft glances and touches that Buck wants to mean more than they do. Eddie’s there bringing Buck his favorite coffee for no apparent reason and trying to make him laugh and asking him to the beach and the zoo and the planetarium—

Buck feels slightly hysterical when he realizes it’s because Eddie is worried about him. And then abruptly horrified when Eddie asks if the reason Buck’s been off is because he did something wrong.

Fuck. He’s fucked everything up, hasn’t he?

So.

They go to the planetarium. And then they go back to Eddie’s house and have dinner and play board games and put Christopher to bed and Buck knows it’s too much, that he shouldn’t stay, shouldn’t fall back into the routine like nothing has changed, but—

But he’s a little bit of a masochist.

He’s debating whether to leave yet again when Eddie drops down next to him on the couch, pressing close against his side. It’s too much, too quickly—want flares in his blood and he can’t breathe, so he shifts a little to create some distance—

“See, it’s that,” Eddie says as he withdraws as well, brow furrowing. “You’ve been doing things like that for weeks—why don’t you want me to touch you?”

Buck freezes. Swallows hard. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

He can’t come up with a believable lie.

He’s not sure he wants to tell one anyway.

The silence stretches between them.

“I know you said that whatever’s going on is something you need to figure out yourself, and I respect that,” Eddie says quietly. “But you also said it wasn’t about me. Only, I’m pretty damn sure it’s at least a little bit about me, so—”

He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face.

“Would you just talk to me?  Please, Buck. Whatever it is, you can tell me, I—”

“I love you.” Buck blames the fact that Eddie looks agonized at the idea that he’s hurt him in some way for the fact that it slips out.

Eddie goes very still, his eyes widening. The words hang in the air.

Panic threatens to overwhelm him, but Buck pushes himself up off the sofa and clears his throat.

“I love you,” he repeats, because, well, he can’t make it worse at this point. “And I didn’t know whether I should tell you because historically I don’t have the greatest track record with getting the things I want and I didn’t want to lose you, but—”

He blows out a breath. “I said you didn’t do anything wrong because you didn’t. Because this is all just me and my feelings and it’s not your fault that I’m—”

“Buck,” Eddie interrupts, and Buck stops.

“Sorry,” he replies. “I’ll go, I just—”

Eddie reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around Buck’s wrist.

“Would you sit back down and give me a minute?” He says. “Because it seems like you’re making an awful lot of assumptions and I would really like a minute to process here.”

Buck nearly chokes. “I—okay. Yeah, sure, I can...do that.”

He settles back down on the couch and Eddie stares down at the coffee table, although the look in his eyes is distant.

He doesn’t let go of Buck’s wrist.

After what seems like an eternity, Eddie looks up again.

“Right,” he says quietly, and Buck isn’t sure whether that’s to him or to himself. But Eddie’s gaze turns thoughtful and then he’s leaning in and—

Buck shivers when Eddie kisses him, Eddie’s free hand coming up to curve around the back of his neck. It’s gentle and soft and sweet and Buck’s pretty sure he makes a noise that is downright embarrassing when he twists his fingers into Eddie’s shirt and reciprocates.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes when he pulls back.  

“O—okay?” Buck asks.

Eddie smiles. “Yeah. Okay.”

And he kisses Buck again.

[beauvibaby]

jersey - c.hart

the request was basically just fluff, and I saw this and my girl Abby said I should right about this so here we are! Non covid times, bc carter having two shutouts in a row inspired me 🥰

You toyed with the oversized jersey hanging off your body, slowly forgetting your work that you had already been putting off. You went wide eyed as Carter caught another puck, a proud smirk coming onto your face. “That’s my boy.” You cheered to yourself, muttering a string of curse words when you spilt your glass of wine on his rug, “Damn it.” You jumped to your feet, rushing to clean it up, a pout coming on your face as you realized there was no way you’d be able to fully get this stain out. Deep down you knew Carter wouldn’t care, hell, he’d probably never notice, but you still felt bad. You started spamming him with texts, something you often did while he was in a game and you weren’t in the stands to watch, which unfortunately has been happening more and more with your new promotion. You knew it bothered Carter to an extent but at the end of the day, he was happy to have you in his life, even if it meant you’d hide out in his apartment waiting for him to get back from his games.

“I love you!”

“I see another shutout in your future.”

“OH SHIT”

“Babe, you did it!”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“So proud, god I can’t wait to see you”

“But, I have to tell you I accidentally spilled wine on the rug, I’m sorry”

“I know you won’t be mad but I had to tell you”

“UGH I CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU MY FAVORITE GOALIE!!”

You smiled as the music you began playing over the Bluetooth speaker was cut short when Carter called you, judging by the time, you knew he was calling to tell you he was on his way home. “Hi.” You answered, dragging the word out cutely as he sighed dramatically, “on the rug, really, Y/N?” He joked, earning a giggle from you. “M’sorry, babe, I’ll make it up to you.” You mumbled, he hummed in response. “Oh?” He muttered, and you heard his car moving down the road. “Just drive safe, I’ll see you soon.” You assured him, knowing how his mind could wander. “Alright, princess. Love you.” You could picture his smile as you replied with a love you too.

You quickly went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit, adjusting the lacy number you had underneath the jersey, what could you say, you knew they were going to win tonight. You sprayed on a bit of his favorite perfume and fluffed your hair a bit before dancing your way down the hall to the music you still had playing. You cleaned up your work stuff, nearly putting it into your bag as you knew he’d be home soon, you shook your hips lightly along to the music as you stood up. You bit the corner of your lip, letting yourself unwind with the music, the soft edge being taken off from the wine you managed to drink before you spilt it. Your eyes shot open at the sound of a whistle from the door way. Carter was looking at you with a small smile, eyebrows raised high, it was rare for him to smirk at you, even in the most compromising of situations. He always smiled at you, silently telling you how much he loved everything about you. It took adjusting, for you, you had become accustomed to guys looking at you as a conquest, or a body, Carter never did any of that.

“There’s my winner!” You cheered walking over to him, he welcomed you with open arms, burying his face into your hair, you couldn’t help but smile as he inhaled the scent coming off of you. He leaned back only enough to tilt your face up for a kiss. “Hi.” He finally spoke when you separated, “you did so good tonight.” You grinned at him, squealing in surprise when he squeezed your hips. “Carter!” You complained dramatically throwing your head back, he steadied you with his arms around your waist, he walked forward, making you walk backwards to the middle of the room. “So, how well blended is this wine stain?” He quipped, watching you sheepishly point in front of the couch. “My god, it looks like you murdered someone in here!” He gasped, letting go of you, stifling back a laugh when you nearly fell. “It does not!” You defended, a pink tint rising to your face. He wrapped you back up in his arms as a familiar song came on. Your song.

Carter smiled down at you when you wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying to the song. “So who’s this Hart guy? You sure do where his name a lot.” Carter teased, tracing his last name on the back of the jersey you were wearing. You raised your eyebrows with a small smile, “he’s just the greatest guy, plays for the Flyers, got his second shutout in a row tonight. You’d like him.” You teased, leaning in for a kiss, it quickly turned from a soft peck to a deeper kiss as his hands wandered down your back. “Sit down.” You whined when he accidentally stepped on your feet, he groaned dramatically, flopping back on the couch. But his complaints soon silenced when he watched you climb on his lap, the jersey riding up a bit, revealing the blue lace you were wearing underneath. He bit his lip in slight embarrassment, “I’m your girlfriend, don’t be embarrassed, I picked it for you.” “You’re not helping, Y/N.”

Taglist: @thathockeygirl @literarycharleton

[detectivecarlosreyes]

In Case of Emergency (Ch 3/10)

Ao3 | 1.5k | Eventual Buddie | Status: Incomplete 

Prev. Chapter | Next Chapter 

Chapter 3  - Overpasses, relationship advice and ......Minecraft? Buck was quiet after the incident on the overpass, Eddie makes the executive decision to check on him for his own peace of mind. An additional scene for 2x08: Buck, Actually

Waiting outside Buck’s apartment after knocking on the door with a six-pack under his arm, Eddie wondered if he was being overly concerned for no good reason. In the short amount of time knowing the man, Eddie had come to learn some of his quirks; one of which was his consistent commentary on their days off, whether it be text messages or his presence on social media.

After that call on the overpass, he’d gone quiet, contemplative even, and become radio silent since they went their separate ways at the end of their shift which carried over into their day off.

Being threatened by a gun was something Eddie knew all too well and understood how compartmentalise such an event from his time overseas, but he knew that wasn’t the case for most if not all civilians. That kind of experience could be difficult for anyone to shrug off, and he figured that was the reason for Buck’s silence.

So now, here he was, coming to check on the man who he now considered a friend just as much as he was a co-worker, except now he was second-guessing if they were even at the level of friendship where it wouldn’t be considered odd for him to be checking up on him. They haven’t known each other for that long, and it would make more sense for someone else in the team to check on him having known him longer.

Knowing the man should be home after seeing his jeep parked outside, Eddie knocked on the door a second time and called Buck’s name after getting no response from inside. He sighed, tipping his head back in exasperation feeling ridiculous over his unease, like he was overreacting, which he felt like he was.

He knocked one last time and when he still heard nothing from the other side of the door, stepped back, pulling his keys out of his pocket to get to his phone to call the unresponsive man, only pausing in his actions when the blue marked key captured his attention.

Forgoing the call, he decided to make use of the key instead and let himself in, calling out to Buck once again. He peered around taking in the space, easily finding him in the living room on the couch with his back to Eddie, play what looked to be Minecraft?

It’s only when he looked more closely, could Eddie see the reason why Buck didn’t answer the door. He was wearing what seemed to be noise cancelling headphone and was completely unaware that there was anyone else in the apartment with him.

Setting the beer down on the dining table, Eddie moved to stand behind Buck and lifted one of the earpieces from Buck’s ear, and said quietly, “Someone could rob you right now and you wouldn’t even know it.”

He pursed his lips in amusement when Buck visibly jumped, dropping his controller on the floor in surprise.

“Jesus Eddie!”  Buck hissed as he clutched dramatically at his chest, turning to look up at him as he slipped the headphones from his head, “What the hell? Give a guy a heart attack why don’t you!”

Eddie put up his hands in surrender, not feeling in the least bit guilty taking the opportunity to scare Buck, “I knocked and called your name 3 times.”

Buck huffed as he picked up the controller and set it down on the coffee table, “What are you doing here man?” he asked, half-turning around on the couch to look at him properly.

Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling silly seeing now that Buck seemed perfectly fine. “I came to check on you.”

Seeing the confusion written on Buck’s face, he elaborated “You’ve been quiet since that call at the overpass, thought you might like someone to talk to.”

Buck lit up in understanding and shook his head, “I’m alright, just had a lot on my mind is all.”

Eddie moved back to the table and pulled out two of the beers, proffering one to Buck, “Did you want to talk about it? I mean- it’s not every day you have a gun pointed at you.”

“Oh, that?” Buck waved his hand dismissively with a shrug before extending it out over the back of the couch towards Eddie, gesturing for the beer, “That’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with a gun, although it was the first loaded one.”

Eddie pressed the bottle into his hand and took the cap off his own as he moved to sit in the nearby armchair, curiosity piqued “It’s not?”

Twisting the top off his beer, Buck took a swig before answering, “Weapons training and simulations was part of Navy SEAL training. I guess it’s something I got used to.”

Eddie leaned forward, feeling both surprised and impressed over this revelation. “You trained in the SEALs? Wouldn’t have pegged you for something like that.”

“Yep,” Buck answered casually, popping the p as he settled back into the couch cushions, sling an arm across the back, “I didn’t finish though, figured out after a while that it wasn’t for me.”

The conversation lulled for a moment as Eddie mulled over this newfound knowledge, realising that he actually knew very little about Buck. And from what he’s slowly discovering, there was a lot more to the man than meets the eye, making him want very much to get to know this surprisingly enigmatic man before him.

It’s Buck that eventually broke the silence, “We talked about relationships, about not wanting to be ignored anymore.”

It took Eddie a moment to understand what Buck was talking about. “You and Lola? The lady on the bridge?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’ve been quiet, our talk just got me thinking about everything with Abby.”

“Your invisible girlfriend.” Said Eddie jokingly, hoping to ease the tension in Buck’s shoulders and at least get a smile to Buck’s face. He felt somewhat triumphant when Buck chuckled at the dig.

“She might as well be a ghost at this point.” He said with a sigh, “I don’t know, man. I’ve just been thinking how long is too long to wait for someone when you live in their apartment, but you barely even talk with them anymore.”

“I’m probably not the best one to talk to about relationships at the moment but let me ask you two questions. Do you love her as much as you did when she was still here? Or is it now that you love the idea of her?”

He watched as Buck considered the questions, knowing that it could difficult to distinguish between the two of them.

“You don’t have to know right this second, but just think about it. If it’s the latter, then it might be time to move on. From what you’ve said about her, she sounds like she's happy, just don’t forget that you deserve to be happy too even if that means it’s time to let go.”

“Yeah, I guess you might be right.”  Buck eventually uttered after a long pause, scrubbing at his face

“Of course, I am, would've thought by now you'd have figured out that I’m always right.” Remarked Eddie light-heartedly.

‘Sure, you are Eddie.” Buck responded with a smirk and a shake of his head as he finished off what was left of his beer before setting it down beside the controller, reminding Eddie of what Buck was playing when he came barging in.

“So... Minecraft?” He asked, changing the subject as he indicated towards the idling screen.

“Yeah, yeah I know, it’s a kid’s game,” Buck answered rolling his eyes in good humour, “But it’s surprisingly relaxing to just chill with some music and build stuff.”

“Hey, you do you man,” Eddie put his hands up, doing his best to look non-judgmental, “just please tell me you have some competitive games too.”

“I do! I swear, there’s just not many people I know who would be interested in playing.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that won’t we…” Eddie looked down at his watch, “…just not today. I should head off, got to pick Chris up from school.”

Buck stood up with him and they both made their way to the door, “Oh yeah of course man. But yeah we should totally do that sometime, and you know Christopher is always welcome too.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Eddie opened the door and made a move to leave when Buck’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey, Eds.” Eddie paused in the doorway and turned to find Buck awkwardly tapping a knuckle to the door frame. “Thanks for stopping by to check on me. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

“No worries Buck, what are friends for. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you at work.”

It may not have been an emergency reason to use the key like it was intended for, but it was well worth the trip to Eddie, especially when he left the apartment with the understanding that he just got to see a side Buck that he had a feeling that few people get to meet having only seen the persona that Buck let them see and now more than he would have expected, he would very much like to get to know this Buck that he's met today even more.

[lilibetts]

Please wait, LoveAlarm is syncing itself to your heart!

Falling In Love With Riverdale, Theme 1: Sugar

Part 1/3

At this very moment in the not-so-idyllic town of Riverdale, Betty Cooper is 16 years, 41 weeks, 1 day, 20 hours and 34 minutes old and, to see Kevin describe it, she has been in love with Archie Andrews for 1 year, 5 months, and 14 days.

From inside the relative security of the F Hallway girls’ bathroom, she takes a deep breath to mark the magnitude of the moment, and hits [Install] on her phone. It takes less than a minute for the blue line to complete a circle and once it does, she opens the app and fills in her personal details.

Please wait, the app cheerily asks her, bright pinks and blues swirling across the screen, LoveAlarm is syncing itself to your heart!

Well, Betty sighs to herself, there’s no going back now. 

LoveAlarm is the latest matchmaking app to launch and in the two weeks since, it seems like *everyone* at Riverdale High has downloaded it. It syncs itself to your heart and a bright red heart alarm would ping if there is someone within twenty feet who loves you.

Naturally, the romantic landscape of Riverdale High School has been completely leveled. 

Midge Klump and Moose Mason both downloaded the app, only for it to tell Midge her love was unrequited. Ginger Lopez had situated herself in a prime location outside the gym doors when basketball practice let out—nobody within twenty feet of her—in the hopes that when the team’s star power forward, Anthony Parrish, came out, their phones would mutually ping. 

Instead, it was Ben Button who walked down that stretch of the hallway; instead, it was Ben Button who made her phone ping.  Then Anthony came out and *his* phone pinged, but Ginger’s did not again. According to the school grapevine, Ginger had lost her shit and called Ben a ‘baby-faced freak’.

Truthfully, the whole concept behind the app horrifies Betty, but she has to know. Making sure that every possible setting for the app is set to her phone’s vibrate function, she shoulders her backpack and heads into the cafeteria.

The walls are decorated from corner to corner with red, white, and pink streamers in anticipation of the Valentine’s Day party that will be held on Friday. PizzaShak is giving them a great deal on heart-shaped pizzas.

Her friends are at their usual table in the corner and with every step Betty takes, she is closer to knowing. When Archie hears his phone chime once she is within the twenty feet circumference, will he put two-and-two together? Will her own phone buzz with the truth? All around her, the crowded cafeteria is full of hopefuls checking their phones.

The round table has three curved benches attached to it. Kevin and Veronica share one, and across from them, Jughead and Archie split the other two. Betty slides into the space on Jughead’s left, exchanging happy hellos with her friends. Wordlessly, she hands over one of the two sandwiches she’d packed for Jughead to take. As always, he makes a show of letting out an aggrieved sigh when he spots the lettuce and sliced tomato in there with the turkey, but dutifully takes his sandwich while sliding over the remaining brownie square from his vending machine packet. This is their unspoken pact: she makes sure the bottomless pit that is Jughead Jones is sated with something healthier, he makes sure she gets a non-Alice-approved treat.

The sandwich she made is gone in three bites.

<Good?> she signs, arching one eyebrow.

<You know it,> Jughead replies, still chewing the last mouthful of turkey sandwich.

Betty has been deaf since she was three years old, after a bout with meningitis, and just because she’s well-liked among her peers doesn’t mean many of them would go as far as to learn sign language for her. That Kevin, Archie, Jughead, and Veronica have is part and parcel of why they’re her best friends.

A booted foot taps insistently against hers under the table and Betty turns away from Jughead, still grinning, to focus on Kevin. 

/Did you watch The Bachelor last night?/ His hands move as rapidly as he speaks.

/No,/ Betty tells him. /Unlike you, I actually studied for the History test./

“Har har,” Kevin deadpans. They’re both distracted by Veronica clapping her hands. 

“OMG!” she says gleefully, slapping Kevin’s bicep. /Kelley is an ICON! I told you./

As much as Betty loves her friends’ ridiculously dramatic day-after recaps, she’s too distracted to really pay attention to whatever last night’s spectacle had been about. Across the table, Archie is checking his phone, thumbs tapping and sliding across the screen. A wide grin splits his face and he turns the screen out to show Jughead.

3 people in a twenty feet radius love you!

Betty flushes and looks away, embarrassed. Of course. As covertly as possible, she takes advantage of everyone’s inattention to check her own phone.

Zero.

Nobody within a twenty feet radius loves you.

As Cheryl Strayed wrote, “acceptance is a small, quiet room”. As the realization sinks in, Betty watches, as if from a greater distance, Archie glancing around at the nearby tables, determined to figure out who those three people could be. After a few murmured words from Jughead that she can’t decipher thanks to his head being turned away from her, Archie takes off to make the rounds. A process of elimination, most likely.

Betty isn’t sure what she feels. Irritation more than disappointment? Relief? The latter emotion surprises her, especially now that she knows Archie isn’t in love with her. Kevin, and then later Veronica when she’d arrived in Riverdale, have been after her to confess her feelings to Archie but Betty has kept demurring or putting it off. Her usual excuse being that she’s too scared to wreck her friendship with him. 

Sure, they’re right when they say she’s being a coward; but is her relief after the LoveAlarm revelation just relief that now she won’t have to actually bare her heart?

She turns off her phone.

                                   ******************************************

                                                    He knows he shouldn’t be, that this definitely qualifies as eavesdropping, but here Jughead is, glancing up and over to the table where Betty is sneakily carrying on a conversation with Veronica.

It’s 7th period Honors Bio and all they need to do is finish a worksheet before the bell rings, which is easy enough, but Mr. Beeker had also stipulated silence in the classroom, so it’s a clever loophole that Betty has found. Abby, her interpreter, is absorbed in her phone, leaving Jughead to covertly watch shifting hand shapes and fingerspelled letters.

<You’re not as s-t-e-a-l-t-h-y as you think you are,> Veronica signs smugly.

<??>

<Your phone. At lunch. You d-l LoveAlarm.> Smugness melts into concern. <Well?>

This is news to Jughead, and unwelcome news at that. He shouldn’t be surprised that Betty has downloaded that stupid app and really, he should’ve seen it coming. Dread fills him as he awaits her response.

Of course Jughead refuses to download LoveAlarm. Why would he give an app his heart data? They’d only sell it to soulless companies looking to target him with ads tailored to the object of his romantic yearning.

Betty.

The facts are these: Jughead Jones is 17 years, 3 days, 6 hours and 11 minutes old. He’s also been aware that he’s deeply, irrevocably in love with Betty Cooper for 1 year, 4 months, and 19 days. An eternity, basically.

 A rare beam of sunlight has broken through the February gray outside, casting a pale glow on her downturned face, the long eyelashes that brush her cheeks. It’s the flare of her nostrils and the tight press of her lips together that tell him she’s upset. 

There’s a sharp pang in his chest.

<He doesn’t.> The words, accompanied by a shake of Betty’s head that makes her ponytail bounce, are all he needs to understand. 

Jughead isn’t obtuse, he knows which ‘he’ they’re talking about, the only one ‘he’ it could be: Archie. Blame Kevin, he’s shit at subtlety. 

So, Betty had downloaded LoveAlarm and now she knows Archie isn’t in love with her. The latter isn’t news to him but he would’ve been fine if Betty had continued to go through life not knowing that particular fact. But it’s the sentence that comes next that breaks his heart.

<I have a zero. Nobody loves me.> What goes unspoken but, to Jughead, is writ large upon her face is: ‘I’m not lovable’.

He looks away from their conversation, angry that anyone would make her feel like this. Ashamed that he is a guilty party in this.

That night while lying on his bed, Jughead finds himself torn.

What he had seen earlier has given him food for thought. Which is just as well because he likes to take the time to think broadly and deeply, much in the same way he likes to eat. Next to him on the bed, his phone is open to the App Store, and LoveAlarm waits there patiently, ready for his decision.

Is Betty Cooper worth it? Unquestionably Yes.

Is he willing to risk discovery? Having his heart spilled right out there for her to see...even worse, for others to see? Vulnerable and already bruised, where it’d easily be crushed into messy smithereens?

Unable to answer that, his brain circles back around to the first question: is Betty Cooper worth it?

With a low, drawn-out groan, Jughead hits [Install] and gives corporations access to his heart.

[queerpuff]

Discussing the TLOU2 leaks.

Obviously do not read this if you want to remain spoiler free for TLOU2. 

I have looked into these leaks and what they mean, and have a few thoughts to crystallise so I have done below. This is mainly a way for me to express my feelings and get them off my chest, I’m not looking for any responses, I just needed to rant. If you have something to say though, feel free to DM me & I’d be happy to chat. :) 

So, in all honesty, the whole news about the leak - the reasons why it was leaked, the fanbase reaction, as well as other speculative elements to it - have upset me. 

Ellie is important representation. The Last of Us is one of my all time favourite games, for a variety of reasons. However, one aspect of the game which will always have a place in my heart is Ellie. I’m sure so many of you feel the same way, but as a lesbian, seeing myself represented in a video game in such a casual, yet beautiful way means a lot to me. Especially seeming as the video game industry as a whole is still massively tailored to the male audience - seeing Ellie written as a lesbian in a non sexualised and normalised way is quite groundbreaking for the LGBT community (feel free to correct me if you think I’m wrong of course, but this is my opinion.). I have always had a deep respect for Naughty Dog for including such representation in their games - as well as portraying characters which aren’t hyper sexualised/unrealistic. 

However, the leaks have really hit close to home due to many factors. The storyline leak/spoilers to me weren’t that bad - I couldn’t escape them as most of the angry fanboys have taken to all forms of social media to spoil everyone who’s still looking forward to the game. The storyline to me isn’t awful, from what I’ve seen it could be an opportunity to tell a fantastic story about revenge and hate. However, there’s been some speculation about [SPOILER] Ellie’s fate in the game, as well as the main story antagonist Abby potentially being a trans character.

Bury Your Gays Trope As we all know, the bury your gays trope is something which has plagued the LGBT community for years. It’s exhausting to see yourself finally be represented in a form of media, only to have our characters killed off in haste or poor writing. I sincerely, sincerely hope that this isn’t the case with TLOU2. Joel & Ellie are the most beloved characters in the ND franchise, and killing them without justification is hard enough. The spoilers haven’t officially leaked Ellie’s or Dina’s fate in the game, only that they get hurt pretty badly. It could go either way honestly. But in deciding their fate, ND are potentially adding to a trope which has hurt and upset the LGBT community for years, as well as leaving the fans completely hurt and unresolved after losing one of their favourite characters. Using the ‘it’s an apocalypse, anything could happen’ excuse would boil my blood. It would be an incredibly stupid move on their part, and I’m curious to see whether they were hasty enough to make it. I have faith that they won’t.

Abby + trans representation On another note, there has also been a lot of speculation on Abby’s character being trans. Although I have not seen proof of this myself (to me she just looks v muscly - something I am very much here for!), I also sincerely hope this is a path ND have chosen not to take. Although trans representation in the media is scarce enough as it is, especially within the video gaming industry, deciding to introduce their first trans character as the main antagonist who [SPOILER] kills one of the main characters and potentially kills the other too - is fucking DISGUSTING. It is actively inviting the players to dislike her and hate her, something the gaming community has proven to do fantastically already, but by the same token, they’re enabling so many gamers to use this as an excuse to be heavily transphobic. Which disgusts me to my core. Which brings me to my next point...

The toxicity of the gaming community The gaming community is quite frankly one of the most uneducated, narrow minded and frankly disgraceful communities that exist around popular media today. It has been largely dominated by straight white men up until more recently, something which has caused a shift in the representation we see in the games. Something that will continue to anger me, is that these men still fail to see value in anything which doesn’t feature their ‘kind’ as the main characters. The minute the representation strays away from this at all, agendas are being pushed, and ‘SJW’s are taking over’. It’s completely mind numbing to see men freak out over a fictional character being anything but a white cishet. What’s unfortunate though, is that this childish attitude is often coupled with these men refusing to invest any of their time or money into these franchises. Which in turn, will be detrimental to the companies who chose to feature this representation. Naughty Dog is going to suffer a lot from these leaks. I have seen a vast array of hateful comments from people saying they’re outright refusing to buy the game, etc, which I know will affect the company in the future. It is unfortunate that a company who actively tries to give us more representation is going to be punished for attempting to break the norm a bit. This statement only stands if they decide to keep Ellie alive, and if Abby is not a transgender character - if not I will also refuse to invest my money in any of their future projects.

Naughty Dog & their ‘disgruntled employees’ A last point to be made, is spoilers aside, the message behind these leaks seem to root from a sentiment of unrest within the Naughty Dog company. I understand to some extent the overwhelming pressure of releasing a sequel to TLOU due to it’s massive success, but this in no way justifies the ‘crunch culture’ of overworking and underpaying your employees. It’s barbaric. It’s deeply saddening to see a company such as ND neglect their workers in such a manner, and I sincerely hope that these leaks will hopefully cause some sort of upheaval in the way things are run there. There seems to be many issues to address - being silenced out of fear of opposing any of the main ideas, the whole concept of bonus pay 6 months after the game’s release etc, it all needs to change. I want to continue to support ND, but I will not if they don’t change things around. 

This franchise has mattered to me since it was released, and ND has been a company I’ve respected and praised since 2009. So naturally my opinions on it are very strong. Nonetheless, I am still looking forward to TLOU2, and I will purchase it as normal - not buying it at all will affect the neglected workers far more. It’s sad to see such negativity spread from something everyone used to be so excited about. It’s also heartbreaking to see so much transphobia and homophobia stem from this too. It’s only cementing the idea that video game companies need to push through with this rep despite all of the braindead fanboys opposing to it. It’s important to a lot of people. 

[stiles-o-dylan24]

Worth the Risk

Author: @stiles-o-dylan24​ Word Count: 2644 Pairing: Bellamy x Reader Warnings: language, angst, but also fluff(do you warn about fluff?) I’m shit at warnings I’m sorry Prompt: “oh trust me sweetheart, you do not wanna say that” A/N: This is my submission for the @justauthoring and her 14k writing challenge MASTERLIST

You halt your step and lift your hands, settling them on your hips as you squint your eyes at the sky with its dark ass clouds that came from nowhere. 

No sooner had you looked up had the clouds decide to drop open the floodgates making you groan with how far away from camp you are.

Turning around and high tailing it back the way you came, you lift your hood as you push your legs harder and faster to the cave you know is thankfully close by.

You’re just making it around the rock edge when you crash into something-- no someone.

“Y/n? What are you doing out here alone?”

Bellamy.

You lick your lips quickly, stammering “I just--”

“Never mind, get in.” He rumbles deeply in his chest, interrupting the excuse you were still fumbling for.

He grabs your arm putting you in front of him as he guides you into the cave with his hand on your lower back.

When he feels certain you both are safe, he turns towards you noticing the lantern you’ve started and jugs of water you’ve set out.

You see the look on his face and you shrug your shoulder “What?”

His lips twitch smiling softly, nodding his head towards you “Where did you get the lantern?”

“I’ve kept the stock pile of items up in here, won’t be the last time the rain strands someone.”

He nods and an awkward silence settles in the small cave, unsaid words burning the back of your throat.

“You going to tell me why you were out here alone?” He crosses his arms as he looks down to where you’re seated.

“I just needed to clear my head” You look to the ground noticing a small rock near your shoe, completely in need of your undivided attention.

“Alone? In the woods?”

“Better than being back in Arkadia.” You hesitantly lift your eyes to him and notice him furrow his brows

“How is grounder territory better than Arkadia?” 

You open your mouth to reply, however, you snap it closed and look away.

Things between you and Bellamy have been interesting lately. You have felt like things between you were progressing and you were almost something more than the pining friend you have felt as of late.

However one step forward and two steps back seems to be the occurring dance between you both. Every time you think he feels the same way, he closes himself off and puts you at a distance.

It’s in the little things, when you’re talking and he laughs or you catch him staring. There’s an ease and happiness to him until you can literally see something pass in his eyes and it’s like a switch. He will claim he has something he needs to do, then he’ll be standoffish for however much time he chooses.

Next he’ll show up and be back to being your friend but there will be more of a hesitance. It’s an endless cycle that you need to break.

He either is not interested at all or he’s not allowing himself to be with you. Either option is shit at this point because you love the damn bastard.

Bellamy gives you a smirk “Miss y/n, at a loss for words? Now I've seen everything.”

You roll your eyes and stand up “I’m not at a loss for words. I’m confused and I obviously can’t talk to you about it.”

He frowns and lifts his arm crossed shoulders “You can talk to me about anything”

You snort and walk to the other side of the cave.

He clears his throat “Look I know things have been off lately and I’m sorry if you feel like I’m pushing you away, but--”

“Oh I don’t feel anything, I know you’re pushing me away Blake. What I can’t seem to figure out is why.”

He closes his mouth and clenches his jaw, making his nervous habit tick more pronounced. A million things look like they’re crossing his mind but when he doesn’t say anything, you cross your arms matching his stance “I know you know how I feel about you. You’d have to be blind not to notice Bellamy.”

More silence.

Lifting your shoulders you breathe out a huff and continue “Either you don’t feel the same way, which is fine by the way-- we can move on, or you do and you just don’t want to allow yourself to be happy, which frankly isn’t ok.”

More aggravating silence fills the small space and you’ve had enough. 

Deciding to throw it all out onto the cave floor in between the two of you “Fine, I want to know why. Why are you pushing me away?” You throw your hands out to your sides, “Huh? Because from where I’m standing, we are so good together. But then you notice, reel in your feelings and shut me out. Am I-- am I wrong? Is there something I’m missing?”

Silence. Jaw clenching silence.

You close your eyes briefly before opening them and crashing your gaze with his, here goes nothing

“Why the hell are you so scared to love me?”

Bellamy shakes his head, glare settling in his eyes and you see him clench his jaw even more “Oh trust me sweetheart, you do not wanna say that” he grumbles out however he ultimately doesn’t say anything else.

You scoff and shake your head at his lack to elaborate “Well that clears up everything, thank you for--”

“I’m not scared of loving you y/n because I already fucking love you!” He throws his arms out to his sides, “What I am scared of is losing you because I’ve lost everyone I have ever let myself love!”

Your mouth slightly parts in shock, you weren’t expecting any of that.

Using your silence he takes a couple tentative steps towards you until he’s standing so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

You place your hands flat against his chest “Bell--”

His hands land on your hips, increasing his hold on you with his words “I can’t lose you y/n/n. I... I won’t survive if I lose you.”

You lift your head to connect your eyes with his, squinting through your confusion “So your big plan to ‘not lose me' is to make sure you actually lose me, lose us, lose what we could be?”

You take a step back from him, his hands falling away from your sides and you immediately miss them, however you need the space because him being so close messes with your mind.

After that kind of confession you just want to slam your body into his and kiss him until the world is done wanting to end, however you are also not connecting his reasoning, so no kisses for him.

“What kind of life is that Bellamy? If these last however many years since we were sent down here have taught us anything, it’s that you can’t live like that. We were sent down here to die, but we didn’t. We have survived so much, and you’re just wasting that. You’re spitting in the face of everyone we have lost because you don’t want to lose me?”

Bellamy closes the gap you created and places his hands on your upper arms “I can’t let myself be happy with you and allow you to get hurt... or worse,” sadness crosses his face, swallowing thickly before he’s continuing “I’m the cause of all the loss we have endured. Me. And I will not add you to that list just because I was selfish enough to love you.”

Tears prick your eyes but you will them away as you flinch your head back slightly “So I don’t get a say in this? We both just get to be miserable because you’ve decided it’s the better option?”

He again says nothing and you shake your head. You need space. Now.

You walk away from him towards the cave entrance and notice the rain has stopped. 

You look back and see him in the same position, his back facing you which gives you the courage to say what you need to “You know, you are not responsible for all the loss we’ve endured. And choosing to not be with me doesn’t automatically make me invincible to death Bellamy. I know you’re worth the risk, I just wish you felt the same.”

You don’t wait for his silence, with the last word said you turn and are running back towards camp. 

It’s still somewhat light out, which you thank whoever is listening since running in the dark woods sucks balls. 

Especially since now that you’re alone you let the floodgate tears fall as they wish and running with tears in your eyes AND darkness is even worse.

You hear footsteps behind you, not surprised in the slightest that he’s right on your tail. You don’t say anything though, you just keep running.

You keeping running until you can see the lights of camp just through the trees. What does surprise the hell out of you is the burning excruciating pain that shoots up from your thigh all of sudden. 

Crashing to the ground you get your bearings and see a... fucking arrow? Seriously?! Can’t the grounders see you are a heartbroken crying mess? 

Assholes.

Your vision is going blurry as you see a figure coming towards you. You hear a couple of thuds and the sound of a body crashing to the ground as you lay down further, completely losing interest in your current situation now that sleep is the only thing you can think of.

Your body feels light as air and as though you’re floating, welcoming the darkness to take you away from the pain in both your heart and leg.

Bellamy tightens his grip around your back and legs, careful of the arrow imbedded in your thigh, as he clears the trees and comes up to the gate bellowing to the guards “Open the gate and get Clarke or Abby! Hurry!”

He’s flooded with dread and worry like never before as he looks down at the most beautiful face he’s ever laid eyes on.

He looks up with tears in his eyes at the gate opening. With enough room for him to squeeze you both through, he meets Abby and Kane halfway up the walkway “Bellamy what happened?”

“Grounders. I knocked the one who I think shot her out-- but the guards may want to check if there’s more.”

Kane shouts orders to the guards as Bellamy continues up the path. He carries you into the Med tent, laying you on a table and going to sit on your non injured side.

Clarke comes in to inspect the arrow, finding the ever present sign of poison. She goes about bringing you an antidote while Abby cleans and stitches the wound. She finishes and pats Bellamy on the shoulder smiling softly as she leaves you both.

After a little bit Clarke comes back in “Hey, how is she?”

Bellamy never taking his eyes off of you shakes his head “I don’t know, she--she doesn’t look as pale though”

Clarke nods as she brushes a hand through your hair on the top of your head “She’s strong, she’ll wake up soon”

Bellamy clears his throat “Is it always going to be like this down here? Waiting at the bedside of someone we hope will pull through?”

Clarke furrows her brows “I hope not. We just have to make the most out of our good days.”

Bellamy flicks his eyes up at that “You sound like her.”

Clarke smiles as she looks down at you again “Well she is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.”

Bellamy’s lips twitch in a slight smile as he takes your small hand in his much bigger one.

Clarke’s face softens as she looks at two of the most important people in her life, wishing they’d get their shit together and just be together already.

“You are allowed to be happy, you know that right Bellamy?”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything as he sets his elbows on the bed next to you and brings your hand enclosed in both of his to rest against his mouth, willing you to wake up.

Clarke smiles softly and pats him on the shoulder as she leaves you both alone.

                                      ***

When you wake up it takes you a moment to remember where you are and what the hell happened.

Rain.

Heartbreak.

Arrow.

Getting shot.

Your leg twitches. Ugh ow. Yup definitely got shot.

Groaning you sit up, swinging your legs over to dangle off the side and take in your surroundings of thankfully the familiar Med tent.

Putting your hands on either of your thighs you lift your bum up and gently slide off the bed, putting your weight on your good leg before testing the waters with your bad leg.

Clarke comes through the flap of the tent “Whoa whoa whoa y/n, take it easy.”

She runs up and steadies you with both of her hands on your arms “Hey you ok, dizzy at all?”

You smile as you set your hands on her shoulders bringing her in for a hug “No, I’m ok. I promise.”

She gives you a squeeze back “You had us all so worried.”

You pull away “How long was I out?”

Clarke grimaces “Three days”

“No wonder I’m starving” you both laugh as Clarke situates one of your arms around her shoulder and sets her arm around your lower back to help you walk “Let’s go get you some food then. I know someone is dying to see you.” She smirks reaching the doorway.

You don’t get a chance to ask who as she lifts the flap and you hear a deep shout of your name “Y/N!”

Lifting your head you see none other than Bellamy Blake taking long quick strides up to you. A breath getting caught in the back of your throat at the look adorning his face.

Clarke removes her arm and steps out of the way just as Bellamy takes his last step and plants his hands on either side of your face, fingers lightly gripping the sides of your neck.

He cradles your head, not wasting a second as he crashes his lips to yours. You go take a step back with the force but one of Bellamy’s hands wraps around your side to settle on your hip, stabling you from falling.

It takes you 2.7 seconds for the shock to wear off and you’re lifting your hands to settle around the back of his neck, pulling slightly at the hair that rests there. Effectively kissing him back with all the love you have for the man. He groans as he deepens the kiss and you feel the sound and the shivers it elicits all the way to your toes.

He pulls away dropping his other hand to your other side, and rests his forehead against yours as you both catch your breath.

“Bell--”

“I love you.” He interrupts making you suck in a breath.

You open your eyes and see him already looking down at you. He lifts his head from yours shaking it slightly “I was wrong. If it’s not too late I’d like to prove to you just how wrong I was for however long you decide I’m worth it, because you are worth it. Every risk--”

He closes his eyes briefly, tightening his grip on your waist he brings you impossibly closer connecting his gaze with yours “y/n, you’re worth it. Being with you will never be a risk.”

You smile the biggest smile Bellamy has ever seen as you tighten the grip around his neck bringing him closer. Rubbing your noses together you whisper “It’s never too late Bell.”

————————————————

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is property of stiles-o-dylan24. These characters aren’t mine but this fanfiction is. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.   Posted 23 March 2019

[mearcatsreturns]

Hope for Dummies

There's not a guidebook to hope, but they could sure use one.

Abby goes to talk to Luka the night before he leaves for the Congo, bringing them back into each other's lives more fully again.

Also on ao3. About 4k words. 

Can you leave me alone?

Can you just...go?

Carter’s words echo in her brain as she stands at the train platform, her chest aching with it. They might not have said the words officially, but it’s pretty clearly over, in spite of everything she’s done to make it work.

Sure, he’s grieving, and Abby could chalk everything he said up to that, but she has to be honest with herself, even if they aren’t ready to be honest with each other. Things aren’t working, and they haven’t been, not since the proposal that wasn’t.  Or maybe even before. The fact he can’t bear for her to comfort him, that her brother made a spectacle at his grandmother’s funeral....it’s just a couple last nails in the coffin that is their relationship.

It hurts, after years of friendship, after all they’ve been through together, after sacrificing her relationship with Luka—both romantically and then platonically—that it ends like this.

“Not with a bang but a whimper,” she mutters to herself.

She had been so tempted earlier in the lounge to tell Luka everything that was going on. He’s one of the best listeners she knows, and now she kind of regrets not having told him. Who is she supposed to talk to now, especially with Luka leaving so soon?

A train approaches, and Abby makes a split-second decision she hopes she won’t regret.

&&&

She almost turns around to go home a dozen times. God, for all she knows, he might well have company as a last hurrah before he leaves. She can’t quite say why she doesn’t just give up, but somehow, she knows he’ll want to see her. Abby summons the courage to go up to his floor and rings Luka’s doorbell.

He answers before she has a chance to question herself again, his look of confusion turning to one of surprise and then some other emotion he masks too quickly for her to identify.

“Can I come in, or…?”

“Of course,” he says, motioning for her to enter.

She takes a deep breath, making her way to the kitchen counter. It’s scrubbed clean, more free of clutter than she’s ever seen it. “If you don’t want me here—I know you leave tomorrow and probably just need to sleep—”

“I can sleep on the plane, Abby, and my flight isn’t until the afternoon. I just...what are you doing here?”

She hesitates. “I—Carter and I had a fight. After my brother ruined his grandmother’s funeral.”

“Ah,” Luka says. He’s inscrutable, she hates that she can’t read his responses the way she used to.

“It’s just...you asked what was wrong earlier, and I didn’t answer. And maybe it’s not fair of me, but I don’t really have anyone else to talk to.”

He graciously doesn’t point out that he’s had no one to talk to (outside of his...conquests, and she’s pretty sure he’s not telling them his life story) for the better part of a year.

Instead he softens, placing a hand on her shoulder to guide her to the couch before taking a seat at the other end. “What happened? You can tell me. I was just surprised to see you, sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry, bursting in on your last night here for a while.”

“I’m glad you’re here. It’ll be good to spend some time together before I go away.”

Abby shrugs. “Well, you know my family. Always doing the most inconvenient thing.”

Luka’s mouth is a wry twist at that, though he waves it aside. “But they’re your family, and you’re you. You can’t not be there for them.”

“Yeah. Eric called me—after months of radio silence—the same night Carter’s grandmother died.”

“And you went to get him.”

She rubs a hand over her face. “Yep. John needed me there for him, and I had to get Eric.”

“Not to be rude, but his grandmother was dead. Eric is alive and needed you more,” he says, half apologetic.

“That’s pretty much what Carter said, only with a lot more vitriol,” she replies with a snort.

“Abby...you need someone who’s there for you too.”

“He has been mostly, as much as I’ve let him be.”

Luka just makes a non-committal sound.

“Maybe it would have blown over if I hadn’t had to take Eric to the funeral. And apparently he was off his meds.”

“Oh, god, what happened?”

Abby huffs out a laugh. “I think what didn’t happen is the better question. He pissed on a tree in full view of everyone there, started yelling, and then ended up falling into Mrs. Carter’s open grave.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Shit. I’d offer you a drink, but...maybe we can order Thai and they can bring us coffee or pop too?”

“That sounds good.”

She smiles as she watches him place the call to the place they usually ordered from when they were dating and then when she was staying with him. The familiarity of the sight of Luka, casually disheveled and trying to take care of them—and the way he gestures with his hands even when he’s on the phone—it warms her.

While he finishes the call, she finally looks around. Frowning, she turns back to Luka. When he hangs up, he meets her accusing stare with befuddlement. “What? What is it?”

“What happened to all your stuff? Your TV and playstation? Your artwork? A bunch of kitchen gadgets?” Now that she’s looking, she realizes just how bare the room is. Aside from the larger pieces of furniture, there’s not much there.

His face turns a dull red, and he runs his hand through his hair in a sign of nervousness she’s all too familiar with. “I...I sold them.”

Her eyes narrow. “And why did you sell them?”

“I—well, I won’t need them in the Congo.”

“But you’ll need them when you get back.”

He avoids her gaze, only loud silence greeting her ears.

“You...you weren’t planning on coming back,” she says, and it’s like a knife to the chest. To her consternation, her eyes well with tears. But after the day she’s had, she’s entitled to a little crying. She wipes at them roughly.

“I, ah, I wasn’t sure when. Or for how long.”

Her heart is in her stomach. Or her stomach feels leaden. Just...one of those cliches about how her stomach doesn’t feel great and she can’t quite process this news. “Why, Luka?”

He turns and leans on the counter, faced away from her, though she turns to watch him. There’s tension in every line of his body. “What’s the point in staying, Abby? I don’t have a life here, not really. Everything feels like...I’m just doing it because I’ve been doing it for so long. Everything is just routine now. No one needs me. There, in the Congo—they need me.”

“I need you,” she says, voice breaking over the words.

He turns back around at the sound of her distress, though he stays where he is. She can’t take the knowing, almost pitying look on his face. “No, you don’t. You haven’t for a long time, if you ever did.”

“So, what, you were just going to leave forever, just like that?” She’s angry now, and only gathering steam. “So when you said goodbye to me earlier, that was a forever goodbye? And you weren’t going to tell me?” Her voice goes small and hurt at that last part.

He finally crosses the space between them, reaching out for her when he’s a foot away. He drops his hand before he touches her, then looks down at his feet. Biting his lip, he says, “I didn’t think you would care.”

“Of course I care!”

Luka goes very still, stunned into silence. Just then, the doorbell rings.

It’s the delivery guy with their food. Luka goes to the door, takes the assorted bags from him, pays him, and then brings the bags over to the counter. Abby helps Luka take everything out of the bags and get it sorted out, a surreal pause in...whatever this is.

She takes the opportunity to pull herself together, to calm down. At least externally. Her mind still races, and her heart aches. Luka really thought she didn’t care, or cared so little? And he’s leaving, basically for good?

Once they’re settled in with their food, Luka pauses after swallowing a bite. “We haven’t really talked in a long time.”

Abby sighs, then nods. “I know.” A deep breath, and then she adds, “And I’m sorry. I...I should have been there for you.”

“I didn’t make it easy,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug.

“Neither of us ever do, I guess. But god, Luka...I always care. I’ve cared since—well, at least since the mugger, if not before. We just—I-I’ve been—ugh. I tried to put some distance between you and me when I started dating Carter. I guess I thought it would help, that it wouldn’t be like it was when I was dating you. I...you’re still my friend. And honestly, I’m not sure it did work. You’ve been...well—”

“—a mess? To put it brightly. ” He interjects with a rueful smile.

She smiles back. “Lightly, but yeah. And Carter and I are on the rocks anyway.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t fix it with him.”

“Maybe I can, maybe I can’t. We’ll just have to see. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, no matter what.”

Luka takes a deep breath. “So where does that leave anything? My ticket is one-way for now, and I was going to let the Alliance know more later. I still...I don’t know, Abby.”

“Just...promise me you’ll come back?” It’s not something she does often, but she’s prepared to beg. “Please, Luka.”

Seeing her like this—it seems to hit him how desperate she is, and after along pause, he nods firmly. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Her shoulders slump with relief.

“Besides, maybe you’re right. The pizza here...I’d miss it if I didn’t come back,” he says. It’s a transparent attempt to lighten the mood, but she appreciates it nonetheless. He meant his promise; now they need a chance to relax a little.

Still, she can’t resist driving the point home one last time. “When you do get back, I’ll order one for us. The pizza will miss you too, even if you’re just gone a couple months.”

“Good to know,” he says, nudging the outside of her thigh with his knee. Except for their hug earlier today (and that almost overwhelmed her), it’s the most they’ve touched in months, and she won’t lie, it sends a thrill through her. She won’t act on it, not with Carter still in the picture (however far to the sides they’ve pushed themselves) but...well, that’s something to consider another day.

He leans his head back against the couch. “I’d say we should watch TV, but that’s not really possible now.”

“I guess not.” She pauses, then grins up at him. “Do you still have playing cards?”

“I packed them, but they’re easy to get out. Hold on.” Luka jumps up and runs up to his bedroom, and Abby doesn’t bother not staring at his ass as he goes. It is, after all, the last time she’ll see that sight for a while, even if he’s coming back (he promised!).

When he comes back down, they settle into a game of rummy. As they play, he casually says, “You know, I might be able to send a postcard or two this trip.”

“Lucky recipients. And funny thing, I’ve even gotten an email address set up.”

“I helped you set that up, genius. I know.”

“Hey, I just thought it was worth a reminder,” Abby says, struggling and failing to hide a smirk.

“Definitely,” he agrees.

A couple hours later, they decide to call the game a tie when they realize they’ve stopped keeping track of the score. Luka needs to go to sleep, and Abby isn’t feeling as wired anymore either.

He calls her a cab and walks her down when it arrives for her. Pushing her hair back behind her ear, she’s trying to decide whether to hug him again when she just decides to hell with it. She throws her arms around his waist, catching him off-guard. After a brief pause, though, Luka melts into the hug, his arms wrapping around her. She savors the warmth, the rightness and homeyness of it, until the cab driver honks and yells at them to hurry up.

“Take care of yourself, Luka.”

“You too, Abby.”

With that, she slides into the backseat of the cab and goes home. She turns back as they drive off, waving when she finds him still standing on the sidewalk. He waves back, looking more hopeful and awake than she’s seen him in months.

Abby sleeps better that night than she has in ages.

&&&

It’s funny, Luka thinks, sitting across from Carter and realizing they’re something like friends now. Africa changes people, and the work they do together makes all the issues and history between them seem so much smaller in comparison.

Not that Abby has ceased to be important, not at all. True to his word, Luka sent her a postcard right after he landed, he’s working on another to send the next time he goes to town, and they’ve been emailing...albeit sporadically, given the state of their internet connection here.

It’s just that with distance, he and Carter are maybe more able to see the ways they’re alike, the things they enjoy about each other’s company and the ways they can work as a team.

They sit in companionable, contemplative silence, each nursing a lukewarm beer. It’s hard over here on days like today, when they lose patients they could have saved so much more easily in Chicago. If only they had the resources.

Gillian storms through the room, agitated and angry. “I’m going to bed, and I don’t want to be alone.” Her words echo through the room as she goes to the little room she’s claimed as her own.

It’s understandable, wanting the touch of another person, reminders that you’re still alive when surrounded by so much death. Luka is tempted, definitely thinking about it. He’s afraid, though, that to go to Gillian like this—just to feel something pleasant—will be nothing more than a continuation of his nonsense from this last year.

While he’s mulling it over, Carter stands, raising an eyebrow at Luka and nodding in the direction of Gillian’s room. “Do you mind if I…?”

Well, maybe Abby isn’t as distant as he thought and maybe Luka isn’t completely over their history, after all. He sees red at Carter’s gall. “Really? When you have Abby? You’d really jeopardize that for some comfort?” Before he realizes it, he’s made his way over to Carter to loom over him, much as you can loom over someone just a few inches shorter.

Carter gives him an odd look, then sighs. “Abby didn’t tell you that she and I broke up? We ended things before I came out here.”

“Oh,” Luka says, taking a step back. His anger fizzles out as abruptly as it came to life, and he’s left more embarrassed than anything. “Uh, so...ah, go for it.”

“Thanks,” Carter says with a smirk. He starts to go to Gillian’s room, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, and if you wanted to use it, the SAT phone is on the table outside my room.”

Sheepish at how utterly predictable he is, but grateful nonetheless, he calls out his own thanks before heading to the phone.

He walks outside, knowing the connection will be better there. Dialing the number he still knows by heart, he prays she’s not working right now.

Thankfully, she picks up with a cautious greeting. “Hello?”

“Abby?”

“Luka?”

Her voice washes over him, and he exhales with relief. “Yeah.”

“Is everything okay? Are you all right?”

“I-I’m fine. I just—are you okay? You didn’t tell me that you and Carter broke up.” He wonders why she didn’t mention it in one of her emails. The little bit of hurt he feels isn’t strong enough to outweigh his concern for her, but it’s there.

Abby huffs a laugh, even though the static garbles it. “It’s fine, really. It was a long time coming. And in your emails you sounded...I don’t know, happier and more fulfilled working over there. I didn’t want to—well, I didn’t want to put anything on you. Especially since I really am doing okay.”

She’s right, he realizes. As useful and fulfilling as his work here is, if she’d told him that and he had any doubts about her being okay, he’d have left and gone to her immediately.

“That’s good,” he says gruffly.

“Are you doing okay? You sound a little off.”

“It’s probably just the connection, but I have been feeling a little under the weather.”

There’s a pause, and he worries the call cut out, and then she continues, “Remember to look after yourself. Um, do you have a return date yet?”

He smiles. “Ah, not yet, but I’ve been here six weeks. I’m thinking two months is a good amount of time to be gone. I’ll get in touch with the Alliance tomorrow.”

“Oh, good,” she says with a sigh, and he can all but hear her smiling too. “Just let me know any flight details, and I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Hey, I have to head out to work, but thanks for calling.”

“It was good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, you too.” She’s somehow shy about it, and it warms him enough that he doesn’t feel the chills he’s been ignoring the last couple of days.

“See you soon, Abby.”

&&&

It’s three weeks before he makes it back, and the last week of that is one of the tensest ones of Abby’s life.

Carter had called the night before Luka was originally due back. Any awkwardness between them was lost in the news that Luka has malaria—and a fairly bad case at that. They were taking him to Kinshasa, where they could stabilize him enough for a long transatlantic flight.

The change in plans means that Luka is arriving during one of her shifts. Apparently one of the nurses from the Congo was coming along to make sure it went all right for him, but she’s planning on heading out pretty quickly after dropping Luka off at the hospital.

Abby can’t stop glancing at the doors to the ambulance bay. Hopefully she’ll be able to take a break when he gets here. She’s the nurse manager, dammit, she can tell the other nurses when she’s taking a breather, as long as the hapless denizens of Chicago behave and stay uninjured for the time being. She wishes she wasn’t stuck on her shift, wishes that she were wearing something other than her old scrubs, but Luka may well be too out of it to notice anyway.

And, she reminds herself sternly, she’s here to work. What she wears doesn’t matter.

(It’s not very effective, as far as reminders go.)

At 12:57, Zadro wheels Luka in through the ambulance bay. Abby can hear her heart beating in her chest, and she nearly trips over her own feet to go over to him. His face lights up in a bright smile when he sees her, and she knows her answering grin is just as wide.

She nearly shouts to Kerry that she’s going to go take Luka up to ICU, and Kerry accepts it with a long-suffering sigh and a wave of her hand.

“Hey,” she manages breathlessly when she gets to him, wincing internally that even with two months to think about what to say, that’s all she can come up with.

He doesn’t mind. “Hi.”

They just continue to grin goofily at each other as they head to the elevator. Abby ignores Zadro’s knowing, amused glance between the two of them, lost as she is in drinking in the sight of Luka.

Finally, they get him up to ICU, and Abby offers to handle getting him set up in his room there. Hopefully he’ll only be there a day or two before being able to go home, and since he is still a doctor here, they’d been able to get him a private room.

She feels his eyes on her as she hooks up his IV and helps him to his feet to get into the bed. She reaches out to steady him when his legs tremble, flushing at his sharp intake of breath. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he says, reaching weakly to pat her arm. “Just...you look good.”

Smiling up at him, she bites her lip. “You look...like hell.”

“Too much partying on the plane.”

Abby can’t help but giggle at that. He really does look pretty bad, but it seems like he’ll recover, if he’s joking around with her like this. “Oh, hey, where’s your nurse friend that was supposed to be bringing you by?”

“Gillian? With the longer delay in New York, she didn’t really have much time, so she just helped me into the ambulance before catching her flight to Montreal. I knew you all could handle it here.”

“I’m glad she got you here in one piece, though.”

“Me too.”

She tries to glare at Luka, though she fails miserably. “I’m still mad at you, you know.”

“For what?” He has that ridiculous puppy-dog look she can’t resist.

“Getting malaria! And not telling anyone how bad it was.”

“The other people, they needed help more—”

“YOU’RE going to need help by the time I’m done with you!”

“Abby?” He’s smiling at her, and her heart flips in her chest.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

She can’t stop herself at that, though she tries to be gentle; she wraps her arms around him, resting her head on the reassuringly solid plane of his chest. His arms engulf her, and she breathes in the comforting, familiar scent of him that remains unchanged. He’s too thin, but it’s nothing that rest and a good diet won’t fix.

Speaking of rest, she finally pulls back from his embrace and helps him into the bed. She fusses over him, ignoring his good-natured eyerolls. “Sorry I couldn’t get you the pizza to welcome you back.”

“Maybe when I can actually walk with you to pick it up.”

“Oh, um, yeah, and maybe we’ll have more to celebrate by then.”

He raises an eyebrow in question.

Abby smiles and says, “I’m going back to med school, finally. I had to get Richard to cosign my student loan, but starting in a month or so, I’ll be Med Student Abby again.”

“That’s wonderful,” he says, beaming at her. “I always knew you would be a great doctor. I like Nurse Lockhart, but Doctor Lockhart will be even better.”

“Luka?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for believing in me.”

He reaches for her hand and brings it to his lips. “Just like you believed in me, even this past year.”

Leaning on the side of his bed, she reaches and caresses his face. “It’s what we do.”

“Always,” he says, turning his head to kiss her palm.

Abby inhales and shakes her head, even if it doesn’t slow her racing pulse, forcing a laugh. “You probably won’t even remember this conversation by tomorrow.”

“I’m not delirious, Abby. I’ll remember then. And I’ll still remember it when you’re not in med school anymore too, if you want.”

“I—you’d wait that long?”

“For as long as it takes, okay?”

“Okay,” she says with a tremulous smile. Luka just looks at her with a quiet confidence.

For once, she’s not filled with fear. Maybe, just maybe, this is something like hope.

Taking his hand in hers, it’s her turn to pull it toward her and brush a kiss across his knuckles. It’s their quiet, unspoken promise, that even if they can’t say everything today, it’s a start. “Well, let’s get you to bed.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a long time.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for later, dummy.”

“I will.”

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 10: O (III)

This is bad.

Skin-crawling bad.

Octavia shrinks even further back into the wall, wishing more than ever at that moment that she had an invisibility cloak. Or at least the ability to camouflage herself. To just blend right into the hideous patterned wallpaper behind her and disappear out of sight.

She’s been nursing the same red solo cup of Monty Juice for the last twenty minutes now. It’s lukewarm and barely tolerable at best, but it’s the only option. Octavia has never developed a liking for beer all that much and the one time she ventured into the wide world of shots, she wasn’t able to leave the bathroom floor for well over 14 hours.

And being sober isn’t a choice. Not tonight. Not when she is all but suffocating in her own skin.

Octavia takes another sip and instantly flinches as it burns its way down her throat. She can feel the alcohol coursing through her veins, dulling the painful itch as it does. Not ideal but it’ll do the job.

“Baby Blake!”

Octavia shudders at the sound of the nickname.

That fucking nickname…

The one that no matter what she says or does, she can’t get people to stop using. Even now, after Bellamy has graduated and moved all the way across the country, is still everyone’s go-to way of referring to her. She isn’t a pig-tailed clad little kid anymore. And is in no way, shape, or form anything like her older brother.

Octavia down yet another gulp of the Monty Juice as she spots John Murphy emerging from the vast cesspool of raging hormones and Axe body spray. He makes a beeline straight for her, flashing a Joker-style smile as he does.

“Hi, Murphy,” Octavia mutters.

Murphy leans in, invading every single inch of Octavia’s personal space and clinks his half-empty beer bottle against her cup in a pseudo cheers. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Octavia gives the tiniest of shrugs in response. She curls her body inwards as the itch begins to grow again. There’s no fucking escape.

“Does your big brother know you’re here?”

“He’s still at college,” Octavia replies, with a little more confidence to her voice.

“How about Clarke?”

“Who’d you think I came with?” Octavia shifts to the left, only to have Murphy match her move. His smile grows wider, fueled solely by the half dozen beers he has already consumed.

“Ouch. Hostile much?” Murphy takes a long swig of his beer, downing the rest the bottle with one definitive swallow. ”And here I was all happy that you finally graced us with your presence.”

“I’ve been to your house before, Murphy.”

Murphy moves even closer as his eyes slowly scan over every inch of Octavia’s body. “I’ve seen that before.”

“What are you talking about”? Octavia squirms under Murphy’s drunken gaze. Her hands unconsciously drift toward the frayed hem of her henley t-shirt. Bell’s Led Zeppelin henley. His most beloved shirt. The one that he practically lived in during his high school years… The one that Octavia had conveniently snagged from his duffle bag the last time he was home from college and then swore up and down for weeks that she had no clue where it was.

“That shirt. I’ve seen it before. It’s not yours, is it?” Murphy takes a moment studying Octavia's outfit with a heightened level of scrutiny. “It’s Bellamy’s. And the jeans too… Why the hell are you wearing his shit?”

Octavia’s skin practically bursts into flames as the itch morphs into a full-blown burn. She needs a way out. A way out of the situation... Out of the party… And most importantly, out of the person, everyone perceives her to be.

“I… Uh…”

Before Octavia can utter another word, a firm hand juts seemingly out of nowhere, instantly creating a barrier between herself and Murphy.

“You’re drunk, Murphy,” Raven says as she forcefully shoves Murphy away from Octavia and then positions herself in between the two of them.

“So?” Murphy fires back with an extra bite to his voice.

“So that means you need to go scurrying back under whatever rock you came from and leave O alone.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna tell Big Blake that you were harassing his little sister and we both know that means he’ll more than kick your scrawny ass the next time he’s home.”

“Whatever, Reyes.” Murphy shakes his head in an attempt to shrug off the threat, but there’s a lingering fear hidden within his eyes. He starts to head back towards the sea of people but at the last minute decides to give them one final sneer. “No wonder Finn dumped your ass.”

These words grab Octavia’s full attention as her mind shifts into overdrive.  

Finn dumped Raven…

Who would dump Raven?

It’s Raven Reyes.

Raven’s a one in a million type of person. There are hundreds of people who would die for the chance to date her… Why would Finn…

Octavia catches a glimpse of Raven’s face out of the corner of her eye and for the first time spots an unsureness there. It’s faint, just hiding beneath the surface, but nonetheless it’s there.

And suddenly, Octavia is hit with the overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around the taller Latina and provide her with all the comfort and reassurance that she can muster up.

There has to be a reason.

It’s Raven.

“You alright?” Raven asks turning back towards Octavia.

“Yeah… I guess…” Octavia replies as she self-consciously adjusts her shirt.

“Hey.” Raven reaches out and ever so gently nudges Octavia’s chin upward with her fingertips until they are eye to eye with one another. A warm smile spreads across Raven’s face. “Don’t let Murphy get to you, okay? You look freakin’ hot.”

Octavia can’t help but match Raven with a smile of her own. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Without a doubt. You’re the second hottest person here, Blake.”

“Second?” Octavia asks with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

“Well, naturally I’m the first. But you’re a pretty damn close second.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Octavia shakes her head in amusement. She takes another swig from her cup and attempts to hide the immediate grimace from the after taste.

Raven snatches the cup out of Octavia’s hand and inspects it. “Monty Juice? You seriously shouldn’t be drinking this shit.”

“Why? Cause I’m too young?”

“No, cause it’s one step up from chugging lighter fluid.” Raven sets it down on a nearby table and then proceeds to take hold of Octavia’s hand. Before Octavia can process what’s going on, she finds herself being led through the crowd by Raven.

“Hey. Where are we--” Octavia trails off, too preoccupied with having to zigzag through the dense, sweaty crowd to finish her sentence. But she doesn’t need to. A second later, Raven makes a sharp left, straight towards a non-conspicuous door and without any explanation whatsoever, pulls them both inside of it.

“What is this place?” Octavia asks as she collects her bearings and takes a good look around. By first glance, the room appears to to be a study of sorts with large leather furniture and floor to ceiling bookcases.

Raven makes a beeline for the farthest bookcase and starts to finger the books, clearly looking for something specific. “This is the off-limits room. Or, as your sister and I discovered last year, the place where Murphy’s folks hide the good stuff.”

Raven pulls on a book and the entire shelf swings open to reveal and a hidden array of expensive looking bottles of alcohol. She snatches some nearby glass tumblers, then grabs a half-full bottle of whiskey and pours two generous portions.

“But won’t they know someone’s been in here?” Octavia asks as she takes one of the glasses from Raven.

Raven gives a shrug of the shoulders. “Murphy’s problem. Not ours. Besides, if you’re gonna drink, it might as well be high-quality shit and not one of Monty’s concoctions.”

A comfortable silence falls between the two of them as they settle down next to one another on the leather couch, bodies naturally entwining like headphone cords.

“Rae?”

“Yeah?” Raven asks taking a long sip of whiskey.

“Did you mean what you said? About my outfit. That I look… look hot?”

Raven lets a playful chuckle slip out. “Second hottest.”

“Raven…”

Raven sits up a bit at the underlying tone of vulnerability in Octavia’s voice. She places her drink down as her natural smirk melts away into a look of pure and utter honesty. “God O, you don’t see it, do you?”

An oddly comforting chill shoots down Octavia’s spine as Raven’s words ricochet around the confines of her mind. “See what?”

“You,” Raven states with such a simple yet strong conviction. “The real you.”

Suddenly… Octavia can’t breathe. It’s as if her lungs have all but forgotten how to function. All she can manage to do is stare at Raven’s all-knowing smile as millions of thoughts fight for dominance in the forefront of her consciousness.  

Raven knows about it.

But how?

How can Raven know when she isn’t even 100% sure of what “it” really is?

Just as a wave of panic starts to crash down upon Octavia, she feels Raven’s hands delicately cup her cheeks and her thumb brush away the stray tear that has appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Rae, I--”

“Raaaaaaaaveeeeeen! Where are yooooouuuuu? We’re up on the table, and I need my most favoritest beer pong partner!” Clarke’s tipsy voice cuts through the stillness of the room, instantly pulling both Raven and Octavia back into reality.

Octavia straightens herself up and quickly wipes the hint of tears from her eye. “Sounds like party girl Griffin has made an appearance.”

“God help us all,” Raven responds with a laugh. She gets up off of the couch and then extends her hand to Octavia, pulling her up to her feet with the greatest of ease. “C’mon. Let’s go before Griffin gets up close and personal with Señor Cuervo.”

Octavia puts her drink down and follows Raven back out of the room, never once letting go of her hand.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Octavia Marie Blake! What in God’s name are you doing in here?”

O startles awake as the sound of Abby’s whisper of a yell as it cut through the silence of the room. They instantly shudder with discomfort.

That name.

That’s not their name.

It hasn’t been their name for a long time now.

But not that it matters. No why would it? Those things never seem to matter. Not to the woman they have come to consider a second mother.

“Hi, Mom,” O whispers back. They push their body back up into the rigid hospital chair and rub their hands over the back of their head, trying to shake the sleep away.

Abby looms in the doorway without a trace of readable emotions upon her face. She stares at O for what seems like an eternity and then--

“Where the hell have you been.”

“Here.”

“I’m not joking, Octavia,” Abby fires back. She takes a step into the room, making sure to shut the door behind her as she does and then locks eyes with O.

And all O can do is shrink back into the confines of the chair, wanting nothing more than to disappear into nothingness… Maybe even from existence all together.   

“Three weeks! Three weeks I’ve been looking for you. No texts. No calls. Not even an email to say you’re alive… And then… Then, I have to find out from Lincoln that you’ve not only moved out of your apartment, but you also up and dropped out of school?”

“Mom, I--”

“No. Don’t give me another one of your half-ass excuse, Octavia. I’m sick of it… All of it. You clearly don’t give a damn about your life or your future,” Abby cuts O off, raising her voice now to full volume.

“Mom, you don’t--”

“Don’t want? Huh, Octavia? Don’t understand? Oh, I more than understand. You’ve had a death wish ever since… And what the hell did you do to your hair?! You look--”

“They look freakin’ hot,” a voice croaks out, thick and raspy. It grabs hold of O, like a much-needed shot of hope straight into the depth of their darkened heart.

And suddenly…

They can breathe again.

“Rae?” O whips around and instantly spots Raven’s chocolate brown eyes staring back at them.

“The one and only,” Raven responds with a hint of her trademark smirk. It’s apparent that she’s in pain, but attempts to mask it nonetheless.

“Raven, honey. How are you feeling?” Abby instantly shifts into doctor mode, moving straight towards Raven and begins to check her vitals.

“Like I was hit by a car.” Raven winces from the poking and prodding as she actively fights back the tears that are forming in the corner of her eyes.

“Funny.”

“Oh, I’m hysterical. Thought you knew that?”

Abby shakes her head in sheer disbelief. “I’m going to go get Dr. Jackson so we can to a more thorough exam, but in the meantime, do you need anything?”

“Drugs,” Raven answers a little too quickly.

“Coming right up.” Abby gives her a lovingly squeeze on the shoulder and then turns her attention back towards O. “And you… I’m not done with you. Got it? You are to go nowhere. You hear me, Octavia?”

“Mama G?” Raven calls out. “Can you do me one more thing?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling them Octavia. That’s not their name,” Raven says as she flashes O an all-knowing smirk.  

Another shot.

This time its love.

It explodes into their heart, radiating a long-forgotten sense of warm and total acceptance throughout every inch of their very being.

Raven.

It’s always been Raven.

The one person who has seen them all along.

Thrown off guard, Abby’s eyes briefly ping-pong between O and Raven, waiting for some sort of follow-up explanation, but only receives silence in return. She lets out a frustrated sigh and then starts to head back out of the room. “I’m going to go talk to the nurse and see if I can get you another round of pain meds.”

The door shuts behind Abby, leaving O and Raven alone together, eyes locked in, studying every inch… every hint of conflicting emotions. It’s intense yet strangely comforting.

“Hi,” O whispers, voice quivering.

“Hi, O.” Raven pauses for a moment, almost as if she’s internally debating her next words and then her smirk widens into a heart-warming smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you… The real you.”

[cwnerd12]

Silas and his advisors sit listening to a voice recording from David: “I, David Shepherd, and the Army of Free Gilboa, cannot condemn Friday night’s attack strongly enough. I have repeatedly forbidden any and all attacks on civilian targets. Any AFG member found carrying out such an attack will be punished accordingly. The AFG is not responsible for the attack, and I personally vow that suicide attacks will never, ever be used by us,” the message pauses, and David changes tone, “I don’t want anyone to die for me. I want my followers to live. This isn’t what I’m fighting for.” The message ends. Silas: “What a load of bullshit, of course he’s behind the attack.” Reinhardt grimaces slightly. Silas: “What, do you believe him?” Reinhardt: “A suicide attack is very strongly out of character for Shepherd. He places too much on this notion of being noble. As much as I’d like to believe he’s responsible, logic tells me that he isn’t.” Silas: “If it wasn’t Shepherd, who the fuck was it?” Reinhardt, “We’re investigating the perpetrator as thoroughly as we can, and, thus far, we haven’t found any connection to Shepherd or the AFG. In fact, I…” he hesitates. Silas, “Yes?” Reinhardt, “The remnants of the bomb recovered from the scene don’t align at all with the bombs previously made and used by the AFG. The earlier bombs were made with precision and skill, and this one was very rudimentary and haphazard. Previous bombings were all based on opportunity, whereas this attack was carefully planned. It doesn’t make sense to me that they would use well-made bombs for attacks that might now work, and a shoddy bomb for a major attack right in the palace.” Silas, “It doesn’t make sense to me that a dumbass like Shepherd could have his own army, but here we are.” Abner pipes up, “The first bombs were made in Gath. They may not have had the same materials to make the suicide one.” Reinhardt, “I’ve examined Isaiah Clemens’s doctorate work- he is good. The bomb materials weren’t poor, but the construction was. Clemens wouldn’t make a bomb like this.” Silas, “Maybe it wasn’t Clemens.” Reinhardt, frustrated, “But Clemens is so fucking good, why would they put something so important on someone else?” Silas, “I don’t know how Shepherd works all the time, I just know that he works. What do we know about the bomber? How did he get into the palace?” Reinhardt, slightly crestfallen, “Jacob Finn was a waiter at the palace for seven years, long before Shepherd showed up. We’re still examining his online presence, but his social media profiles show no signs of ongoing radicalization. In fact, there’s no evidence that he even so much as liked Shepherd. There was one final message, however. ‘Society is falling apart. The Amalekites will conquer.’” Silas raises an eyebrow, “Amalekites? Like the biblical Amalekites?” Reinhardt shrugs. Silas shakes his head, “It’s Shepherd.” He rubs his eyes for a moment, thinking, “I want you to work with Thomasina to conduct a thorough review of all palace employees. If anyone shows the slightest hint of sympathy towards Shepherd, they will be dealt with as security threats,” he looks back and Reinhardt, “Or if there’s any further mention of these Amalekites, whatever the fuck they are.” Reinhardt, “Right away, sir.”

(everyone arrives at Chez Iggy in the desert)  Out behind the trailer, everyone sets up their tents. Jack and Shay assemble logs for a bonfire. David sits in the shade, talking on his phone. David, “Hi.” On the other end, Robert stands in the living room of a safehouse, “Shit, David, where are you?” David, “In the desert.Near the border with Ammon, where are you?” Robert, “Safehouse in Dora. James and Ethan are here, too.” David, “Who else is with you?” Robert, “Uuuh, a few other people, trying to not be conspicuous. Your buddy, Doug, is here.” David, “Good.” Robert, “What’s the plan now?” David, “I dunno, I have to talk with everyone. I think we want to keep moving toward Shiloh, we just got diverted.” Robert, “James and I wanna be there with you. How the hell’d you get all the way into the desert?” David, “One of Joel’s prison buddies has a plane, he can probably get you guys out here. I dunno if it’s a good idea for you two to be traveling together, I mean, two guys who look like me traveling together is pretty much just begging to get arrested.” Robert, “We’ll risk it.” David, “Okay, I’ll talk to Iggy. What about Ethan?” Robert, quietly, “The raid’s got him pretty messed up. I dunno if it’s a good idea for him to be in combat.” David, “Plenty of non-combat shit that needs to get done. We’ll find something.” Robert, “Also, Mom wants you to call her.” David rubs his forehead, “I’ll do that when I get a chance, I-” Jack appears beside him, “Hey, David, we’re all meeting inside.” David nods, “I gotta go, okay? I’ll text you the details when I set something up with Iggy. I want to get you two here, too.” Robert, “See ya, man.” David, “See ya.” Inside, everyone gathers around a table. David enters and sits down, “Okay, so I guess we need to figure out what the hell happened back there.” Jack, “We could have been tracked. A whole bunch of us converging on one place, it would get noticed.” Iggy, “Yeah, I can’t have too many of you guys camping here, shit looks suspicious.” Shay, “There’s other possibilities.” Betty, “Can I say something?” David looks at her, “Yeah, go ahead.” Betty: “I know I’m not a leader or anything like you all are, but I think we got found out in Nob because someone snitched.” David, “Like a mole?” Jack, “Sounds like something Reinhardt would do.” Shay, “We haven’t exactly been vigorous about background-checking our recruits.  David: “Okay, so who was it, then? We had a lot of people gathered there, and it could have been any one of them.” Shay: “If Silas has intelligence, we need counter-intelligence.” David: “How? We can’t just plan a mole ourselves. I guarantee you they’ve identified everyone who’s in the AFG, nobody’s going to be able to just leave and go get a job in the palace.” Isaiah: “I’ve got a brother who works for CrossGen in IT. I thought I’d go work with him once I got my doctorate, but then Samuels contacted me. I tried to get him to join us, but he said it was crazy. After everything that’s happened, I don’t think he’ll be eager to join, but, I’m pretty sure that if I contact him, he won’t tell anyone.” Asher: “They’re monitoring all our families. I guarantee you that.” Shay: “Should we be doing more to protect our families? My mom raised me by herself, if anything ever happened to her…” David: “I can contact Laura and see about getting them moved to Moab.” Asher, bitterly: “Honestly, I think the only thing we can do right now to protect our families is to stay the fuck away from them.” David: “We’ve got time, as long as we’re here. We can think of something.” Jack: “What about an emergency escape plan?” David: “What about Ammon?” Everyone looks at him in silence. David, “I know it’s a shitty choice, but it’s an option.” Monique, “I can’t go to Ammon.” David: “I know! I’m not taking your safety, and everyone else’s safety, lightly at all. But we do have to keep every single option we have open.” Shay, “We can figure something else out. The plan is still go head towards Shiloh, right?” David, “Yeah.” Asher, seriously: “They don’t like Jews in Ammon.” Abby: “They don’t like women, either.” David: “I swear, I will protect all of you! I will do my best to protect everyone, but if we want this to work this may be what it takes, so I need people to make a decision. Right now. You just have to trust me.” Everyone is silent for a moment. Monique: “I trust you, David.” Asher: “I trust you, too.”

In the gutted and soot-stained ballroom, Silas and Thomasina stand watching construction workers and engineers take measure of the damage. Thomasina, “There’s no major structural damage, but obviously, there’s quite a bit of cosmetic damage. It’s going to be expensive.” Silas, “I want everything restored. I want it more than restored, I want a new ballroom, one that’s fancier than the old one.” Thomasina, “I’ll have the best people put on it.” An aide comes up to Thomasina, “Ma’am, there’s a situation You need to address.” 

Up in an office, a group of MSS officers try to arrest and young assistant, Gina. Her boss, the minister of education, Marissa Chowdhury, argues with Reinhardt, “This is ridiculous, Gina is an excellent employee.” Reinhardt, “I have orders from the king, this is an issue of national security.” Thomasina enters, “What is this?” Gina, “I’m under arrest!” Thomasina looks at the officers, “Let her go.” Reinhardt, “I have orders from the king-” Thomasina, “You had orders to consult me. Why is miss Brooks being arrested?” Reinhardt, “A review of her social media history suggest that she may be sympathetic toward terrorist causes.” Gina, “What?!” Thomasina, “Gina doesn’t support Shepherd, Caesar. She’s loyal.” Gina, “Oh my god.” Reinhardt, bristling, “I have evidence to the contrary.” Thomasina, “Such as?” Gina, “Okay, I might have likes some of his selfies after the tank thing but shit! Every red-blooded straight woman and gay man in Gilboa has liked one of his selfies at some point!” Thomasina, not fucking around, “Let her go, Director, you do not want me to bring this up with the King. I have served him since you were a child, and he will take my side.” She looks at the officers and in a sharp voice, says, “Let her go!” They let her go. Thomasina, “You will consult me before any further arrests, director.” 

Silas approaches the door to Helen’s apartment, and knocks. She answers. Silas, “Are you and Seth coming to dinner?” Helen looks at him apologetically, “I already made something, I- growing up, whenever I’d have a bad day, my mother would make me butter chicken, so I made some for Seth. I think it’d be good if tonight it was just him and me.” Silas, “Is he all right?” Helen, “He’s alright, at least, I-” she thinks for a moment, “The palace got bombed last night, Silas. We’re all doing as well as we can, but that’s not an easy experience.” Silas, “Fine, then. I’ll have dinner with Rose.” Helen, “Silas.” Silas, “Yes?” Helen, hesitantly, “I think it might be better if Seth and I went back to the country, at least for a little bit.” Silas, “You’re staying here.” Helen, “I don’t ask this lightly.” Silas, “It’s important for Seth to see all this. He has to know what his responsibilities are going to be.” Helen, “He knows! I just think he would appreciate some peace and quiet.” Silas, “That’s one luxury a king can’t afford.” Helen, “He’s not a king yet. He’s a child.” Silas, “You’re staying here. We’re not arguing about this.” He turns around. Helen, “Please, Silas!” Silas doesn’t listen, and walks off. Silas enters the residence, where Rose waits for him, “Seth and Helen won’t be joining us tonight.” Rose stands up, smiling happily. She goes over to Silas, “Wonderful. It’s been to long since we’ve had a romantic dinner by ourselves.” She puts her hands on his shoulders, “The chef told me he has a wonderful cut of Kobe beef, we can enjoy it with a nice cabernet.” Silas, “I’m not hungry.” Rose, “You’ve had such a long day!” Silas steps back, “I’ll get a sandwich later!” Rose, “Don’t be stubborn, Silas!” Silas says nothing as he turns and exits. Rose stands there, alone, smarting and quietly simmering with rage. 

In Vesper’s cell, Silas sits down, “Tell me about suicide bombers.” Vesper, “Is that the noise I heard last night?” Silas, “They attacked a gala. The ballroom’s a wreck. Palace employee, no previous signs of radicalization. Somehow Shepherd got to him.” Vesper shakes his head, “I’ll be honest, I have trouble seeing him as capable of that sort of thing, but of course I have no room to speak.” Silas, “Tell me about who you chose.” Vesper grimaces and thinks for a moment, “Warner was the one who advocated for suicide bombers, at first, but I’m the one who ended up using them. He always saw something noble and romantic about it. Dying for a future you’ll never see.” Silas, “This wasn’t noble or romantic, five people died.” Vesper, “Our bombers were our most devoted. The truly fanatical. Shepherd’s followers must really believe in him.” Silas thinks for a moment, “There was something else, a something somewhere… The Amalekites will conquer. That’s not something you and Warner ever said, is it?” Vesper, “I'm afraid not.” Silas shakes his head, “Not that it matters. I’ve already got a good hit agains Shepherd. Won’t be long before I wipe him out.”

[archergwenwrites]

Turn the Page

(A/N: For this post. Also, blame this on three glasses of wine, and then the two the second night of writing as to why it’s so long.)

Kane goes into the woods because he has to. He’s a self-sacrificing bastard - at least that’s what Abby says when he leaves with goods to sell should he find another bastion of civilization through the forest. Supposedly they have a lord, a protector, but no one has seen him - just those who tend to a flawless administration - and wolves run rampant.

He finds safety in a castle’s gardens, and as his cart horse bends its neck to graze, he reaches out to an overgrown rose bush.

My mother would love these, he thinks.

There’s a roar, rage he does not understand, and then Kane is staring at the walls of a dungeon, unsure of what he saw.

He stops questioning the animate objects after the first five visits. They are wary, at first, but he tells stories of life in the village until the teapot - who should be dressed in silks and every inch his lady - shares the horror that took them all from happy and carefree to imprisioned, her and her brother the lord orphaned that same night.

“Our mother loved the roses best,” she explains weakly.

“As does mine,” he replies.

Somehow he is moved into a wing of the castle with actual rooms, still without having met the lord. He starts to make himself useful.

“Excuse you,” says the time piece. “I’m the chamberlain.”

“’cept you don’t have real thumbs, do you?” retorts the candelabra, and they fight while Lady Octavia approves the timetable Kane had drawn up.

He’s arranging an airing out of the East Wing, his wing, when a presence looms behind him.

Kane says nothing, keeps himself to a very careful non-reaction as he pencils in carefully scheduled time blocks with the various animate featherdusters and mops. There are a few lively lamps who have figure out how to fluff pillows and blankets, so Kane has them on every room but his. He can do his own laundry, being the only one capable after all.

The presence finally speaks in a gruff, but almost shy voice. “Finn can’t sweep your room.”

Kane paused, then quietly switches the duster with another. “May I ask why, my lord?”

The voice hesitated, “Trysts between staff is technically allowed but discouraged, particularly when one party is trapped in a room and unable to see for herself that the other party was briefly involved with a mop.”

“Ah. Shouldn’t be a problem to keep him away from Raven, then.”

“Do you have any plans for the West Wing?”

Kane does start when his lord quickly speaks. “I- no, no I don’t. I didn’t even think to make one yet-”

“Good. That wing is mine, and mine alone. No one else steps foot in there.”

“Surely to keep it in order-”

“No one.”

Kane inclines his head. “Of course, my lord.” A careful pause as feet start to shuffle away. “When would you like dinner served?”

He hears the smallest sound of surprise and grins. This time his lord is startled. The young man recovers quickly. “My sister usually brings my dinner to the study off the library at half-past seven. Since you have proper limbs, I imagine you can manage to bring it at seven.”

“Did the magic include never-ending food stores?” he asks the teapot, balancing the tray while holding the library door open for her.

“No, but there was a vegetable garden used to supplement the servants’ dinners, so my brother tends to that now that no one else needs to eat but you two. He hunts for himself, but I’ll be sure to have Lincoln set aside some meat for you at least once a week. We obviously can’t go to the market, and you can’t without bringing inquiries we can’t answer. It’s honestly a miracle the king hasn’t come searching for the errant Lord Blake.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that frustrated confession, so he just adds, “My thanks.”

Kane doesn’t see the young lord anywhere as he sets the tray down. The Lady Octavia motions for him. “Well come on. He’s not going to eat with you. Bellamy’s self-concious about his fine-motor skills now.”

“What are you doing?”

Kane looks up from the vegetable bed and manages not to laugh.

It’s the first time he’s seeing Lord Blake, and he is outfitted in gardening gear. There’s a wide brimmed hat pulled over his horns and something of a mane. Claws poke out of gloves just a hair too big for him, and he has a trowel in one hand, a bucket in the other. An apron is haphazardly tied over his clothes, but at least the rubber boots seem alright. His awkward gait as he steps closer to Kane suggests that his toes aren’t quite what they used to be.

Lord Blake should look terrifying, and had he revealed himself that first night Kane would be afraid. But now, a smile curls around his lips as he opens his slightly dirty hands. “I’m tending to the garden, my lord.”

“I am perfectly capable.”

“Of that I had no doubt. Since I need them, too, I thought I might help. And if you don’t mind me saying so, my lord, some of these plants need to be re-arranged.”

“What do you mean?”

Kane carefully turns back to the vegetable bed next to him. “Beans don’t like to be near practically anything, but carrots can be a good buffer. I’m clearing out this bed to move the berries over since they should move well. Tomatoes and brocolli are also not friends, so I want to open up a third bed, but that can wait since the tomato plants are still small.”

The bucket and trowel roughly drop to the ground. “I have claws and am doing my best. What more do you want from me?”

There is hurt and pain radiating in the statement, and Kane’s fingers curl around the dirt. He wants to scream that he didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to be hunted and lost, imprisoned and then hired. He didn’t ask for an animate wardobe who watches him while he sleeps because she can’t do anything else, though they’ve agreed to Not Talk about all he’s screamed into his pillow. He didn’t ask to discover that his lord got orphaned and turned into a bear-wolf-lion on the same night.

But he is Marcus Kane, and he’s made enough mistakes before ignoring other’s emotions. He is old - or feels it in this house of youths. His pain will keep.

Carefully, he straightens out the strawberries as if they are all he’s thinking of, that the words rolling off his tongue weren’t carefully aligned as he tries to steer this young man through his storm.

“Well, you are an older brother, and some would say that makes Octavia your responsibility, especially with your parents gone. Despite the fact that she’s a teapot, she is hale and healthy. She’s got a brilliant mind - we’ve debated The Art of War against your more recent military textbooks. Perhaps her education in dancing and needlework have suffered, but she can run a household. She is a perfectly accomplished young lady.

“You are also lord of these lands, steward of the villages. The wolf population is a bit overgrown - you could see to that - yet the your people have not suffered these past ten years. You’ve kept the machine running, somehow.”

Kane shifts, moving to the new garden bed. As he continues, he untangles weeds and pulls them from the dirt, laying their roots and leaves in one sad pile. “I cannot judge you as a man - I barely know you and even then only as my lord. I can assure you that practiced habits become easier, but that does not make life easier. If you were to interact in a community you would find that the more good you do, the more good is expected of you. Your peers will always want for more, and if you do not give it they will find you lacking.”

Here, Kane brushes the dirt from his hands and meets Lord Blake’s eyes. “If you falter, it does not mean you are lacking. Humans make mistakes. And when you do, you have two choices. You can be consumed by it - let it take over your every thought as you drown in guilt. Do not do this.”

If Lord Blake is offended by his steel tone, he does not show it.

“You turn the page. You don’t look back. You do better today than you did yesterday. Only then do you become a better man.”

He lets the silence sit for a moment; he turns back to weeding and waits. Slowly, Lord Blake kneels down, trowl in hand, and begins to wrestle with another garden bed overcome with weeds. Kane waits for the silence to grow companionable, for Lord Blake to be at ease, and then-

“Your gardening needs work though.”

Several of the servants come flying out the doors, certain the two are being attacked only to find them both collapsed in fits of laughter. Worries assagued and sides calmed, Lord Blake looks at his only human servant with a deep smile. “Thank you, ah- um-”

“Kane, my lord. Marcus Kane.”

“Thank you, Kane.”

“I don’t care what your tutor thought! Satan gnawing on Brutus and Cassius as well as Judas is elevating Julius Caesar next to Christ! Even though Judas does have it slightly worse with his head in Satan’s mouth, these are two killers of a mortal man punished as severely as the killer of Christ.”

“Think for a precious second, if you will, chamberlain, but Satan - the biggest Traitor of a Benefactor that ever was - is gnawing on the three most well-known examples of his ilk! There have been other such sinners, of course; they’re immobile in the ice. Yet Caesar’s traitors are also traitors to man and society, disrupting secular government instead of divine. Caesar was not as great as God, no. But have not we been told to offer hospitality to all for what we do the least we do to Christ?”

Kane squeaks.

Outside the library, Octavia smiles.

“Kane, are you married?”

The new copy of Lettres persanes snaps shut as the man in question jumps in his chair. He thinks of a sharp-eyed widow with an even sharper mind before shaking his head. “No, never have been. Why do you ask?”

Lord Blake sets aside De l'esprit des lois and clearly tries not to look nervous. “I was just wondering how you make someone fall in love with you.”

“Seeking to run off with Montesquieu?” 

He wishes that fur would show a blush. “But in all honestly, Lord Blake, you can’t. You can’t make someone give you their love. Sure, you can play the role they want, but they won’t be loving the real you, will they?” Kane sighs. “It’s not easy to accept, I know. Some people never manage it.

“I haven’t read Montesquieu’s new musings. What word are you translating as love? Agape? Eros? Philio?”

“It wasn’t a question on the reading, just one I’ve had for a while. Thank you. I’d also forgotten there was more than just romantic love.”

Kane nods knowingly as Lord Blake reaches for his cup. “Well if the time comes I’d be more than happy to arrange a marriage for you. Come now! A proper lord does not spit out his tea!”

The garden is their refuge. There are no sisters or talking clocks, just the quiet business of nature and soil under their fingers.

Kane is turning over the dirt in another garden bed, prepping it to take the tomato plants, when Lord Blake suddenly leaps forward. “Wait!” Deftly, as his fine-motor skills with claws are much improved, he plucks from the earth a four-leaf clover - along with several of its three-leaf brethren.

He tries to flatten out the crinkled leaves, which is when Kane speaks. “I don’t know if they’re supposed to lie flat. After all, you shouldn’t iron them.”

Lord Blake looks at him in disbelief when Kane adds, “Shouldn’t press your luck.”

He rolls his eyes and groans, “really, Dad?”

They freeze: Lord Blake locking his eyes on the clover, Kane staring at the hoe until he offers, “I’m sorry-” a pause “-was that joke too corny?”

“I give up,” the younger man says, tucking the clover in his apron pocket and standing. He brushes his hands off then throws them in the air. “Puns are the lowest form of humor. I’m out.”

“Don’t you carrot all?”

The garden door slams shut as Kane laughs.

All good things end.

The garden flourishes, Octavia joins their dissection of literature and philosophy, everything but the West Wing is brought back to the pre-curse standards, and Lord Blake offers Kane a look in a magic mirror.

He packs a small bag - “I am coming back, my lord, once she’s well.” - and rides back to the village, haunted by his mother’s sick face and the lost look on Lord Blake’s.

He tries to say nothing about where he’s been - he has a moderate sum of funds to bolster the village and help his mother. He should have known Abby would not be content to let things lie like the others. 

Kane did not expect anyone to be eavesdropping, much less spread rumors of a monster.

He did not expect a mob to form, led by Jaha, immune to reason.

That Abby is the one to lock him in his home should have been a little more surpising.

That Clarke breaks him out, that is a surprise and a most welcome one. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, what his plan is, only that his horse can’t move fast enough, can’t outrun a mob.

He darts through the mess - snatching up teacups before they smash and even catching Finn before he lands in the fireplace - trying to give them an edge when he realizes the absolute worst place they could be.

Kane steps onto the library balcony as Jaha almost topples off it.

“Bellamy.”

There’s blood on his claws, and Kane briefly wonders if its his lord’s or his old friend’s. Or maybe it’s Pike’s, who has his sword drawn, not that it’s doing him any good as he lies motionless on the ground.

“That’s enough,” he says, fearlessly meeting those brown eyes.

“Kane, he’s a beast,” his former friend begins. “Grab the-”

“Stop it. You began this mad war, and I’m finishing it.” Kane looks again at the one erroneously called ‘beast.’ “Turn the page.”

Slowly, the claws unfurl from their grip on Jaha’s shirt and the man can stand on his own. Bellamy takes one step back, then another, then he turns away from the villager and starts for Kane.

He roars suddenly, spinning wildly, and Kane ducks under first his arm then the sword in his back.

Jaha is not so lucky.

The blow sends him stumbling back until he tumbles over the edge of the parapet and falls.

He falls unnoticed, for Kane is easing Bellamy to the ground, onto his side.

“I’m sorry-”

“Quiet, no need.” Kane tears at his flimsy coat, hoping the strips will be long enough to wind around a midsection.

“No, no. I’m sorry. They’re my people- he was your friend. I didn’t want to ki- I didn’t want-” He cuts off with a roar as Kane pulls the blade free. “You must hate me.”

Kane gets one piece to stay, but blood is pooling quicker than he can tear so he just starts pressing, kneeling there desperate, hoping Abby will have another one of her moments of impeccable timing.

“You must hate me.”

His voice is so broken.

“I am sad that they are dead,” Kane begins. “A life snuffed out cannot be returned. I am angry they rushed in without thinking, without listening. No one would have been hurt had they asked me about the rumors instead of taking those to be truth. I feel guilty, for I couldn’t resist the pleas for truth from the one person I trusted and now look where we are. I am so, so worried about you. But I do not feel hatred, do you hear me?”

Bellamy slowly nods.

“Son, I could never hate you.”

Bellamy releases a shuddering, wet breath and goes still.

Kane sinks back onto his heels. “I could never hate you. Argue illogically, let weeds overtake the tomatoes, iron your luck, I don’t care.” His breath shakes as it leaves him. “I don’t care,” he repeats softly, eyes falling closed-

Eyes closed, against pain, don’t see a wind stirring, stars descending to stick to Bellamy’s still form like fireflies to a lantern.

Eyes open at a gasp.

A young man is standing, leaning against a parapet with one arm while the other presses to his back, reddened strips of coat hanging between his fingers. His human fingers are bloody; his dark hair is a curled mop on his head. There is a smattering of freckles across his nose. He looks at Kane with familiar brown eyes and breathes, wincing a bit as he does.

“If it was that easy I should’ve had O say she loved me years ago.”

He tries to take a step forward and falls, but Kane is there to catch him, to pick him up and carrying him through the library and out into the hall. He stands beneath a painting of the late Lord Blake and looks over the chaos of newly humanized servants throughly celebrating while bound villagers watch confused.

“Ahem,” he begins, voice cutting through the chatter. The servants instantly snap to attention, Octavia pressing through once she recongizes what’s wrong. “Is there a Griffin available?”

Kane always liked Clarke, so when she appears, a shock of blonde hair and her mother’s medical bag under one arm, he decides to give her a job whether or not Lord Blake agrees.

From the way Bellamy watches her as she bandages him up, Kane doesn’t think there will be an argument.

“You wanted to see me, Lord Blake?”

The young man looks much better after a week of bedrest with Clarke paid to fuss over him. (He did quickly learn that she would broker no arguments over his care, and expected to be obeyed - the lord in the sickroom.) (Octavia immediately began taking notes.)

“I did.” He hauls himself to a sitting position and pulls some papers closer. “First of all, enough will all this ‘Lord Blake’ business. You’ve cared for me like a father, and saved my life as well as the existences of all those directly under my care in this castle. Bellamy will suffice.

“Second of all, while I cannot elevate you to a position above mine, I can petition the king to recognize you for efforts above the call of duty, and at least grant you a cottage near the gardens for your use, as you please, no strings attached.”

“Bellamy-”

He raises a hand to cut him off. “I will tolerate no argument. You treated and loved me like a son when to the rest of the world I was a monster, a fantastical creature from magical nightmares. Let me honor you as a son should.”

Kane bows, heart swelling. “As you wish.”

“Of course, I hope you will still oversee the management of the household and argue with me about Montesquieu?”

The tone of his voice creeps upwards at the end, and Kane relaxes, smiling. “I thought we might next read some Virgil, build more foundations of thought and art before we tackle another contemporary.”

“But we’ll order anything new Montesquieu writes?”

“Bellamy, I’m not actually your father; you don’t have to ask permission just because I broke your curse with agape love.”

“Agape? Reaching a bit much are you? If it’s familial love wouldn’t it be storge?”

Kane pulls up a chair. “I would’ve gone with philia as the alternative to agape. Someone needs to re-read their Aristotles. Nicomachean Ethics clearly uses the former to refer to-”

                                                                                                            Fin.

[gillytweed]

An Injured Lion Still Wants to Roar Chapter 4

An Injured Lion Still Wants to Roar Chapter 4 Pairing: Clexa Rating: Children be wary (K+)

Notes: Here’s the chapter I didn’t mean to post. Because I became super productive yesterday, I decided to update! It’s the chapter I’m pretty sure a lot of people have been waiting for even if they didn’t realize it. 

Prologue here - previous chapter here

Clarke slumped guiltily, lowering her head, as she watched Lexa press herself against the nests edge, a low whine escaping from her feline throat. She should have known better than to be in her lion form when Lexa woke next. The sight, for one who was unused to it, was quite shocking, as the brunette had demonstrated. The blonde stood, worried, as the older girl coughed and swayed, transforming to her human form in hopes of defusing the situation.

It had been a few days since she’d brought the injured warrior to her cave, the other girl shifting in and out of lucidity since the first time she’d awoken. She’d slept for the majority of the time, but had been conscious enough for Clarke to feed her and help her out into the woods to obey the calls of nature on multiple occasions. The blonde had even managed to give her a bastardized version of a bath in the pool of water at the back of the cave, ridding her of the mud matting her hair and cleaning her injuries more thoroughly than with a simple cloth.

The fever that had been running rampant through the brunette had only broken the night before, so Clarke supposed she shouldn’t be that surprised that Lexa didn’t remember the majority of the last few days. Her face creased into a frown of concern as the older girl swayed once again, rushing forward to catch her as her knees gave out. The blonde lowered her charge slowly to the furs, cupping her face in an attempt to get her attention. The scent of fear rolled off of her in waves, choking the air around her.

“Lexa, breath. Come on.”

Her words only seemed to make it worse. The brunettes breaths came in short, sharp gasps, ones that were surely painful and seizing. Lexa clamped her eyes shut, clutching at the furs with pale hands as she trembled. Clarke grabbed her clothes from where she’d thrown them over the edge of the nest, slipping them on as she moved to support the older girl’s head and lower her to lay down. The sight of Lexa panicked and afraid was painful. It made her heart seize in a vice grip, the ache becoming more intense as she acknowledged that she was the cause of such fear.

As time passed, the brunettes breathing became more regular, less stuttery as she calmed. Clarke placed a tentative hand on her chest, feeling the slight jump of each harsh breath, and the slowing beat of her heart.  Her other hand gently combed its fingers through tangled locks, scratching lightly in an attempt to soothe and distract from the pain. Eventually, Lexa blinked up at her tiredly, eyes dim with exhaustion.

“Lex?”

She asked hesitantly. The brunette’s scent of fear had dulled, being replaced by the sharp tang of distress and sorrow. She wanted to ask so many questions. Was she alright? Could she do anything? Was she in pain? Did she want to talk about what happened, or leave it for another time? She wanted answers, but also didn’t want to overwhelm the tired girl. A groan was the only response at first, silence stretching between them for several minutes before Lexa moved to scrub at her face, wiping away the tears that had streamed down her cheeks. The brunette dropped her hand to cover Clarke’s before speaking.

“I am so sorry, Clarke. I didn’t mean to turn you into this.”

The blonde’s frown deepened at her words. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was referring to, but whether it was her ability to turn into a lion, or her displays of, seemingly, newfound brutality, it was explained by the same thing. Slowly, she moved her hand to cradle the older girl’s jaw, thumb whispering over the smooth skin of her cheekbone.

“I was born this way, Lexa. I have always been a beast, I’ve just restrained it until now. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you will.”

She could feel Lexa shiver under her touch, jaw trembling as she searched for the words to respond.

“I don’t-”

“Daaaamn Griffin, you’ve made a love cave. Nice!”

An angry snarl ripped from her throat at the interruption. She could feel her eyes flash as her lion roared angrily within her. It was displeased by both the disturbance and the invasion of it’s territory. Placing Lexa’s head back amongst the furs, she stood, shoulders hunched as she stalked threateningly towards the new arrivals, placing her body deliberately between them and her human.

Raven stood smirking at the entrance to the tunnel, eyes scanning the space gleefully. Octavia stood beside her, slipping on a shirt and pulling her arms through the sleeves. The younger brunette must have transformed, being another one of the few Shifters on the Ark, and acted as the mechanics form of transportation, seeing as the older girl could no longer do so herself after her leg injury. Clarke snarled as they stepped further into her space, making them pause. The growl held a warning, conveying her vexation at their presence, as well as threatened harm should they continue on their current path. Octavia held up her hands in a sign of surrender, but Raven simply smirked, cocking a hip as she crossed her arms.

“Abby sent us. You know, generally when a giant lion kidnaps the leader of the grounders word travels kinda quickly. You should know better than to draw attention to yourself like that.”

The blonde growled again, even louder than the first. She’d known that running onto an active battlefield and taking Lexa would draw attention, but she, and her lion, hadn’t cared. So long as Lexa was safe, she didn’t care, consequences be damned. At her growl, Raven frowned, stepping back and breathing deeply to scent the air. Octavia did the same, watching the blonde suspiciously out of the corner of her eye as she inhaled. The two girls shared a look before backing slowly towards the entrance.

“Okay, Princess, I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking, but okay. I’ll tell Abby what you’re doing, but have you told her-”

The mechanic motioned to Lexa, who had somehow managed to stand behind her.

“What you’re doing?”

The growl, that had come out as an almost constant since the duo had arrived, stuttered in her throat. The slight interruption told the mechanic all she needed to know, drawing a disapproving frown onto her face.

“Tell her soon, Clarke, or this could get messy. Remember the 45’ Law? There are rules for a reason. You can’t just claim someone without saying anything.”

The blonde swallowed as they left hurriedly, muscles tense and eyes wide. Confusion rolled off Lexa in waves, growing stronger as she stepped closer, placing a tentative hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. The contact quieted her lion slightly, allowing her human mind to absorb Ravens words.

45’ referred to an event on the Ark during the year 2145 that had had the potential to be catastrophic had it not been stopped in time. While the Shifter population was small, maybe one for every fifty people, their presence had a great effect on the running and laws of the Ark. Their existence had influenced the decision of creating the ‘One Child’ rule, as well as the changing of the ration size regulations, and the event of 45’ had been the final straw for creating the ‘Shifting Ban’ or the more official name The 45’ Law.

Shifters were inherently territorial, it didn’t matter if the animal one shifted into was naturally territorial or not. Each Shifter was taught to control their instincts, as a battle between two giant beasts would spell disaster for both the Ark and anyone present, however, that didn’t always stop slip ups. She’d been fifteen at the time, only just coming into her own ability to shift, when it happened. From what she understood of the public report, a Shifter had been dating a non-Shifter. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, considering the imbalance of population, but the difference in nature's almost always created some form of confusion.

Such as when courting, Shifters would scent mark the one they were seeing. The marking itself was harmless, simply a scent that clung to the marked person to ward away anyone else that might show interest. Of course, normal humans couldn’t smell or detect such a thing, which had led to the disaster that had been dubbed simply as 45’.

A regular human had attempted to flirt with the marked individual, who had reciprocated playfully unknowing of the scent mark and it’s meaning, leading to a fight with the Shifter which had escalated far beyond what normal human guards could handle. The Shifter had transformed, becoming some form of canine, leading to the deaths of at least one Shifter and three civilians. The event had led to the ‘Shifting Ban’.

It hadn’t really been a ban per se, considering that the council had ordered all Shifters to be outfitted with chips that prevented shifting alongside the standard birth control. She herself had ripped the chip out once she’d left Camp Jaha, fully intent on shifting to escape her pain and suffering.

Swallowing thickly, she turned to look at the brunette that continued to gaze at her in confusion. Taking in a deep breath, she scented the air, taking in the earthy aroma of Lexa and her own scent that clung to her. The smell of the mark made her lion purr. She’d been scent marking the older girl since she’d taken her from the battlefield. At first not consciously, she’d assumed it was the close proximity, but as time went on she’d found herself simply holding the brunette or curling around her to sleep, purring as her own scent enveloped the other girl. Apparently, she’d done it more than she’d thought, as Raven and Octavia had been able to smell it from as far away as the cave entrance. Sighing, she stepped closer to Lexa, wrapping her arms around her waist until she had her firmly in a hug.

“We need to talk.”

She said this quietly as she burrowed her face into the brunette’s neck. Lexa stiffened in her grasp, the smell of confusion and surprise, along with a slight hint of joy, swirling around her. Without speaking, she led them over to the nests edge and slid down to lean against the wall of furs. The older girl sat beside her, pulling a fur over to wrap around her still mostly bare frame.

“You understand I’m not human, yes?”

She didn’t look at Lexa, staring straight ahead at the far side of the nest, but felt the gentle nod. She chewed her lip, afraid to continue. On the Ark, Shifters were well known and understood, but on the ground, that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t sure how the very human girl beside her would react at the explanation of her instincts. She was afraid of how she would react to hearing the blonde’s desire to mark her, claim her, protect her, and be solely hers. Her desire to tear apart anyone who threatened her, to unabashedly, aggressively and publicly stake her claim on the brunette. She was afraid she would recoil, be disgusted by her instincts and nature.

“My kind is different from humans…”

She began slowly, choosing and weighing each word carefully.

“We are extremely territorial. Our beasts, when they consider something theirs, are willing to fight to the death to protect it, and when they consider something theirs they mark it… I mark it.”

She turned her head to look at Lexa out of the corner of her eye. The brunette listening attentively, her brow ever so slightly furrowed. The scent of confusion had turned into barely suppressed excitement. The smell was electrifying, sending shivers of anticipation down the blonde’s spine. She didn’t allow herself to think about what the change could mean.

“We mark in couple of ways, through scent… physically.”

She couldn’t stop her eyes from travelling to Lexa’s bare neck, watching as her throat bobbed gently. The next few words stuck in her throat, mouth suddenly dry.

“I would like to apologize, because I have scent marked you without consent…”

The rest of her sentence faded before she finished, hoping Lexa would understand. While she did still hold some anger for Lexa’s abandonment at the Mountain, she understood her decision. It was one she would have made herself if she was in the same situation. Her understanding didn’t stop the spark of anger, but it did allow her to give forgiveness, although the insistent pining roars of her lion did help with that as well.

“But… you said not yet, and after the Mountain…”

The brunette sounded almost hopeful, her eyes wide as her gaze searched Clarke’s. The blonde had to restrain herself from leaning over to touch the older girl, the mere inches of separation making her skin crawl.

When she had said ‘not yet’ she had been working through hundreds of things. The loss of Finn, the war, the fact that she was actually on the ground. Her lion hadn’t helped in the matter, rumbling and roaring in the back of her mind, telling her to take what was obviously offered and what she desired. She’d ignored it’s cries, controlling her instincts with an iron grip. Now, after living as a beast and realizing how fleeting life could be, she had every intention of seizing her opportunity for happiness with both hands.

“What you had to do at the Mountain was necessary. You saved hundreds versus the hundreds we would have lost had you not taken the deal.”

Tentatively, she reached a hand up to cup the brunettes jaw, drawing her closer so she could rest her forehead on hers. She swallowed thickly with nervousness, her eyes downcast.

“And ‘not yet’ didn’t mean never.”

Lexa’s breath seemed to catch at her admission. Her scent changing to become an indecipherable mixture of emotion. A few moments pass, the blonde feeling more anxious by the second, but it all quickly drained away when she felt the soft pressure of lips on her own. Her lungs seized for a moment, a small sharp inhale before she breathed out in one long exhale through her nose.

Their lips molded together perfectly; even more perfectly than the first kiss they’d shared before the Mountain. It was a warm, intimate sensation that had them both shifting to be closer. In mere moments, the temperature of the air rose noticeably, their movements unhurried but intense as they pressed further together. A slow, languid swipe of her tongue on Lexa’s lower lip had the brunette whimpering.

Gently, Clarke pushed against the other girl’s shoulders, rolling her onto her back so the blonde could hover above, their lips still locked. Lexa gripped at her sides, hands wound tightly in the fabric of her shirt, pulling her closer so their bodies were flush against each other. Eventually, they separated, gasping for breath. They remained close, Clarke dragging her lips across the heated skin of Lexa’s jaw until her lips rested above a hammering pulse point. A teasing scrape of her teeth over skin had the brunette shivering, arching up as a breathy moan escaped trembling lips. A pained gasp had the blonde drawing away quickly, looking down at the girl beneath her with concern.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice was husky and breathless but filled with worry. Lexa was tense beneath her, breathing heavily, eyes screwed tight. After a moment, she relaxed but her jaw remained tense, like she was warding off the last waves of pain. The blonde rolled onto her side, leaving about an inch of space between them. Her fingers gently brushed against the flexing muscles of the brunettes face, stroking rhythmically until the tension slowly drained away.

“I’m alright. Just sore.”

Hearing Lexa’s voice had Clarke slumping in relief. She’d been afraid that she’d somehow hurt the other girl, who’s injuries she’d irresponsibly forgotten about in their passion. The sight of Lexa’s face twisted in pain made her heart twist painfully and sent her lion into a protective fit. Sighing tiredly, she nosed at the older girl’s jaw, eyes closed, as she edged closer, an arm wrapping tentatively around a bruised waist.

“Would you be… willing to continue… this, once you’ve healed enough?”

She could feel Lexa smiling as her lips grazed against the corner of her mouth.

“Of course, Clarke. I would like nothing more.”

Next chapter coming soon