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cinnamon-roll-seth · 4 years

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Not Good For You || JJ Maybank

Your disapproving father gets into JJ’s head and leads him to believe that he isn’t good enough for you. JJ, believing your father’s words, tries to end things but you’re not giving up without a fight.

You watch in disbelief as a handcuffed JJ gets shoved into the back of the police truck. Kiara stands next to you, equally as shocked, while Pope stands across from the two of you, next to his dad. The three of you watch helplessly as Shoupe gets in the truck and drives away.

Pope starts anxiously walking around grabbing at his hat and then suddenly takes it off and chucks it at the ground, “Shit!” He yells before storming off.

“Pope? Pope!” His dad calls before running after him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” You mutter over and over, digging your hands in your hair, “Why the fuck did he do that?! He knew damn well it wasn’t him who sank that stupid boat!”

“Because it’s JJ,” Kiara replies, “Of course he’d take the blame for Pope, he’s selfless like that. He’s always protecting his friends.”

You sigh, “Well sometimes I hate him for it. God he’s probably freaking out right now.”

“Hey, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s tough.” Kie assures you softly and you nod.

“I sure hope so. Hey I should probably get home, it’s only a matter of time before my dad finds out and if I’m not close by he’ll have a fit.” She nods, knowing how your dad is, and the two of you say your goodbyes before you get into you car and drive the short way back to Figure Eight.

The thing about being a kook and dating a pogue is that everybody judges you. They all think that you’re making a mistake by dating JJ and that someday he’ll end up pulling you into whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into. It’s part of the reason why, although you live the kook lifestyle, you still prefer to hang out with the pogues. You’re kind of like a half kook/half pogue.

Your father, however, is probably the most angry about it. He would disapprove of anybody who isn’t rich, pogue or not, and the fact that JJ is always causing mischief makes it worse. He keeps tabs on your relationship, and JJ in general, like a hawk.

You cringe as you pull into the long driveway and sure enough your father is already standing on the front steps, arms crossed over his chest, “Where the hell have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve just been hanging out with Kiara,” You reply nonchalantly.

“Hanging out with Kiara? Don’t lie to me, I know you were with that dirty delinquent boyfriend of yours.”

“Don’t change the subject,” He warns angrily, “I heard he got arrested?! What the hell did he do this time?!”

“It’s none of your business Dad. Stay out of it.”

“I want you to stay away from that boy. I’ve said it a million times before and you don’t listen but I’m serious this time Y/N. End things with him.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do dad? Lock me in the house like a princess in a tower? You know what, I’m done talking about this right now.” You angrily walk over to the driver’s side of your car before climbing in and slamming the door.

“Where do you think you’re going? Y/N, I swear to god if you start that car you’re grounded.” You ignore him and start the car before speeding away from the house, drowning out your father’s angry screaming.

As you pull into The Wreck’s parking lot for the second time that day you run a hand through your hair and sigh, “Fuck.”

“Hey what are you doing back? I thought you had to get home to Dadzilla?” Kie asks as you walk into the restraunt.

“Yeah well he decided he was going to yell at me as soon as I got there and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.” You shrug and sit down at the bar. She nods in understanding but doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah?” She asks, not looking up from her cleaning.

“Could I maybe stay with you for a few days? Just until all this shit with JJ is sorted out. If I go home my dad is gonna be all up my ass about it.”

“Of course Y/N, you know you’re always welcome at my house.” You smile, silently thanking her, and patiently wait until she’s done cleaning before you both head back to her house.

{The Next Night}

“Just so you know, if you weren’t going to be there I definitely wouldn’t be going to this stupid party.” You tell Kiara as the two of you stare at yourselves in her mirror.

“Oh I know. If it wasn’t for my mom making me I wouldn’t be going to this stupid party either,” She laughs as her mom pops her head into the room.

“You girls almost ready?”

“Yeah we’ll be down in a minute,” Kiara replies and her Mom nods before leaving once more.

Kie sighs and turns to you, “You ready for this?”

You shrug, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

When you get there the place is already crawling with kooks and the two of you are quick to split from her family and go find Pope. Although he’s not a kook so he isn’t actually a part of the club his dad always caters and Pope usually tags along to help.

You keep a close eye on the crowd, ready to split if you see your father. Finally you spot Pope standing off to the side with his Dad and rush over to greet him.

After a while of watching and making fun of the kooks you turn towards Pope, “Hey, have you heard from JJ?”

“No, you guys?” He asks and you and Kie shake your heads.

“No. He’ll be alright though, he has the survival instincts of a cockroach.” Kie answers.

He sighs, “It’s all my fault.”

“No it’s not Pope, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You assure him.

“Topper almost killed you, remember?” He doesn’t respond as the Camerons’ arrival steals everyone’s attention.

As the night goes on and it begins to get dark the three of you continue to stand aside watching the kooks dance and laugh and live their lives. You continue to keep an eye out for your father, thankfully the closest thing you get to spotting him is catching a five second glimpse of your little brother dancing with some little girl from his second grade class.

At some point you excuse myself to go to the bathroom and push through the crowd into the club.

Unbeknownst to you JJ is outside searching for Sarah after a short run-in with Pope. Finding Sarah and giving her John B’s note was at the top of his list but after that his main focus was going to be finding you. He finally spots Sarah when a hand roughly wraps around his arm and drags him away from the chaos.

“Dude what the hell?!” He yells as he’s dragged away to a little nook in the porch, away from the crowd. The assailant releases the death grip they have on JJ’s upper arm and practically throws the boy forward in front of them.

He stumbles a little before regaining his balance and turning to see Y/N’s dad standing in front of him looking quite angry.

“Oh hey Mr. Y/L/N. What, did you want to do a little future son-in-law and father-in-law bonding? You could’ve just asked, no need to be so rough.” He says sarcastically.

“Cut the shit kid. Look, I don’t like you, you’re dirty and rotten and you’re not good for my daughter. Now I’ve told her to end it but clearly she has other ideas so I’m going to tell you instead. You need to end things between the two of you and move on, and after that stay a far distance away.” Your father spits in a warning tone.

“And what will you do if I don’t?” JJ questions tauntingly, “I mean, my apologies sir, but that’s not going to happen. I love your daughter and I’ll never leave her.”

“You know, despite hanging around you and your delinquent friends, who probably have no hopes or goals for the future and will probably be stuck on The Cut barely scraping by to survive for the rest of your lives, she has aspirations. She wants to go somewhere in life, do things with her life. Things that you, a poor boy from the bad side of the island, who’s always getting into trouble, aren’t capable of doing. Now maybe being with you isn’t affecting her right now but someday soon you will get into trouble that is so deep that you will drag my daughter down with you and everything she wants for her future, everything she’s worked towards and done to achieve her goals, will be thrown out the window.” JJ stays silent, playing your father’s words over in his head as the older man continues, “Don’t ruin her life. End it before she pays the price for your mistakes.” And with that he turns and walks away.

“Yeah, um, no. I stayed at Kiara’s, I’m gonna be sleeping there for a few days.” You answer, tugging at your dress.

“Honey please. Come home with us later, your father and I were worried about you. He told me about your little argument and about you storming off. That wasn’t very respectful Y/N, I thought we taught you better than that.” You laugh in disbelief, shaking your head at her words.

“Did he forget to tell you how he practically threatened me to break up with JJ? How he was the one who started the whole thing in the first place? Of course not and it’s not like you would care anyway because you don’t like JJ either.”

“When did I ever say that? JJ is a nice kid he just...” She trails off and you scoff.

“Y/N, please.” She pleads and you turn around and wave.

“Bye Mom, I’ll see you in a few days when you two decide to stop judging somebody based on their social status and the amount of money they have in their bank account. Oh wait, that’ll never happen.” You reply angrily before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

You go outside, scanning to crowd to try and find Kiara, whom you finally spot standing a little ways further down the deck.

“Hey, you alright?” She asks, seeing your annoyed face.

“Yeah, just ran into my mom in the bathroom. It’s fine, she was just being a bitch about the fight with my dad. Blaming it on me like always.” You shrug, turning towards the crowd until the door opens behind you and a familiar voice comes out of it.

You turn around, eyes widening as you watch JJ get pulled outside by the security guard, “Look man I can walk myself! I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

He struggles against the guard, not even noticing Kie and yourself as he gets pulled past. He grabs a glass from an older man on the way, downing the alcohol inside of it. You cringe as he’s pulled through the crowd, causing a scene and turning all eyes towards him, including those of your father who still hasn’t spotted you.

“Let go of him!” Kiara yells and her parents rush to shush her as all the attention is on the two of you now, “You can’t just boot him!”

You and JJ lock eyes for a moment and you smile but he doesn’t return it and looks away instead. You frown, wondering how long he’s been out of jail and why he hadn’t contacted any of you sooner, and why he reacted that way when he saw you.

“I invited him here! I’m a member of this club!” Kie continues, shrugging off her parents who are desperately trying to get her to shut up.

JJ finally pushes off the guard and apologizes sarcastically before turning towards us, “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie, Y/N. Pope, you as well. Rixon’s Cove, lets go.”

Kiara ignores her parents protests and the two of you bolt after JJ and John B as they run away from the party, Pope in tow. The five of you don’t stop running until you’ve reached your destination. You try to talk to JJ but he pretends not to hear you and instead works with John B to start a fire so you sit on a log next to Kie instead.

When the fire is started you smile and pat the seat next to you, hoping he’ll sit there but he sits next to John B and you try to ignore the hurt you feel after. He hasn’t said one word to me, did I do something wrong?

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even pay attention to the conversation until Kie nudges you slightly and leans in to whisper, “You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” You answer, looking towards John B who’s standing in front of the group going on about the Royal Merchant and his findings about the gold.

At one point you and JJ lock eyes again but he looks away once again.

“All we need it an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.” John B exclaims excitedly and you watch as JJ walks over and throws his arms around him.

You angrily stand up and stomp away from the fire, sick of JJ’s attitude towards you tonight. You don’t know what you did but you’re not going to sit around and let him act like you’re not even there.

“Y/N? Where are you going?” Kie calls but you ignore her, continuing to walk until you get to the beach and find a nice large rock to sit on, staring up at the moonlight. A few moments later you hear footsteps and feel somebody sit next to you but you don’t look over, you already know who it is.

“Can we talk?” He asks and you hum in response, not paying any attention until he asks again more insistently.

“Oh so you’ve finally decided to acknowledge my presence after ignoring me all night?” You don’t know what you expected him to say but what comes out of his mouth next is far from it.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore,” He replies softly. Your heartbeat quickens as you stare back at him with wide eyes.

“JJ, why would you say that?”

“I’m not good for you Y/N. You’re beautiful and rich and you have your whole life ahead of you. I’m just some poor troublemaker who isn’t going to make it anywhere in life. You’re so much better than me. You deserve better than me. I can’t believe it took me this long to see that.”

“That’s not true JJ. It doesn’t matter where you come from, you CAN make it places in life if you believe you can. I don’t want anybody else, I don’t care who they are or what they think they can give me. I only want you.”

“You’re a kook and I’m a pogue. We aren’t meant to be together. We were bound to crash and burn at some point so we may as well get it over with. It’s best that we move on and date people from our own sides of the island.” He refuses to look at you now, staring out into the ocean as you shake your head profusely.

“It doesn’t work that way JJ and you know it. We can’t just move on and love somebody else just because you and I come from different worlds. Romeo and Juliet, remember?” You cry, referring to the nicknames Kie and the boys used to call you two when you first started dating. Tears began to stream steadily down your cheeks.

“Romeo and Juliet both died Y/N!” He yells, raising his voice for the first time, “They were stupid enough to love each other even though they knew they shouldn’t and they ended up dead and if we stay together the same thing will happen to us, except it’ll be the death of everything you could accomplish in your life and I’ll be the one pulling the trigger. Eventually I’ll end up pulling you down to my level and all of your hopes and dreams will die and you’ll be no better than me, a stupid, useless pogue with no purpose.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re so much more than that to me. You’re my best friend JJ, the love of my life. I don’t want to live a life without you.”

The boy doesn’t say anything for a moment as your father’s words from this evening play over in his head. Don’t ruin her life. She’d be better off without you. End it before she pays the price for your mistakes. Finally he sighs, “Well you don’t really have a choice.”

“What do you mean? JJ please, I don’t want to loose you.” You pleaded softly as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Seeing you in this much pain physically broke JJ as he felt his heart break. He always vowed never to hurt you but now here he was doing the very thing he promised not to do. But he couldn’t ruin you, pushing you away now would save you from more pain later.

He could tell that you weren’t giving up without a push and with that thought in mind he opened his mouth and let the biggest lie he’s ever told fall from his lips, “You already have.”

“JJ,” You whispered helplessly as you watched the boy you love so much stand up and turn towards you.

“It’s true. I’ve been falling out of love for weeks but you were too stupidly in love with me to notice.”

“You don’t mean that.” You shook your head as more tears fell, “You’re just saying that to push me away.”

“No, I’m not. You’re so clingy, always up my ass, it’s exhausting. I’ve been mustering up the courage to end things but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, you know? I didn’t want to tell you because I knew it would complicate things and make things awkward between everyone. I didn’t want it to get bad and make the others have to choose between us. I mean of course they’d choose me because I’m a pogue just like them but I didn’t want it to come to that point because I knew you’d have no friends then. You know I feel kind of bad for you actually. You’re so rich and privileged but yet none of the other rich kids like you so you resorted to being friends with pogues because you’re so pathetic that you can’t handle being alone.” With every word that came out of his mouth his heart broke more and more. Seeing the hurt on your face made him want to die. He opened his mouth to keep going but you stood up and held out your hand for him to stop.

“There’s no need to say anything else JJ, you made your point loud and clear.” Your voice was so quiet and broken that he could barely hear what you said, “I’m gonna go. Tell the others I’m sorry.”

As you turn and walk away JJ has to physically fight to urge to run to you and scoop you up into his arms and tell you that everything he’d just said was a lie. He wanted to apologize for all the vile things he’d just said and tell you how much he loves you but he didn’t.

As soon as you disappeared into the woods tears started to freely down his cheeks at a rate that they never had before as he angrily tugged at his hair, “Fuck!”

Thirty minutes later you stared up at the large house in front of you, debating about whether to go in. Tears stained your cheeks and you had to refrain from letting more loose as you replayed JJ’s harsh words in your head. You sighed and opened the large door, closing it behind you.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Your mother’s voice rang out as she appeared from the study.

“Where have you been?” Your father asked from behind her, “Off with your boyfriend again huh?”

“Dad I really don’t want to talk about it,” I reply softly, emotionally drained already, “I’m going up to bed. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

Neither one of your parents responded as they watched you climb the elegant staircase towards your room.

PART TWO

Can y’all believe that JJ is so hot that he brought me out of Tumblr retirement? 🥵 for real though, it’s literally been years since I’ve posted a fanfic on this app but after watching Outer Banks and falling in love with this blonde idiot I was inspired. I literally spent like three days working on this too so I hope y’all like it lmao

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #obx jj #please dont let this flop #multifandom #john b routledge #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #pope heyward #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

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dirtbags // 5: Charlotte

Summary: High School AU. 1985. Winter. Charlotte and Razzle are officially not dating, while Lola’s not dating someone but won’t say who, though she’s contemplating sleeping with Tommy in an effort to get him to stop pining for her, which Charlotte thinks is a terrible idea. Except that Charlotte lets slip to Tommy that that’s Lola’s plan, and he doesn’t take it well. The whole pack ends up at the Drive-In, which is going great for Charlotte and Razzle right up until Nikki decides to be an ass, and Charlotte realises that Tommy has spoken to Lola about their fight. It looks like things will be getting worse before they get better.

A/N: 6655 words. long overdue sorry!! @misscharlottelee and @evaangelics my beloveds this is, as always, for you both. ft. asofterworld quotes

my sister and i both hate antique shopping. but we love hating things together.

So yes, technically Charlotte and Razzle spent the better part of Heather’s party in a dark corner being altogether gross, as an incredibly drunk Peach had informed them both before she was pulled away by a far more sober Vince, which Charlotte hadn’t thought much of at the time, herself more than a little tipsy, but hearing Eileen rant in the diner the following day had made her feel a little guilty for not paying more attention. Not that anything bad happened, but still, she felt partially responsible for the young ginger girl.

But the point is that Charlotte and Razzle are not dating, despite what everyone in their weird and ragtag bunch of lunchtime delinquents likes to imply. If Charlotte could justify punching Nikki again, she absolutely would. It’s not her fault that Razzle’s interesting and kind and honest and funny, and if she finds herself feeling a little heady, a little good-nauseous, like she had back when she and Duff had first been dancing around the idea of being a couple, she pushes those feelings to the back of her mind and distracts herself with something, anything else.

Right now, she’s got a terrible headache and is having a whisper argument with Lola in the middle of art, trying to talk her out of pity-fucking Tommy.

“You make it sound so crass and heartless,” Lola’s lip curled, frowning at the red pencil in her hand and the cartoon drawing of a flower in her notes, “pity-fucking,” the word sounds wrong on Lola’s lips, tone derisive, “you say it like I don’t care about him.”

“Don’t pity-fuck my cousin, you can both do better,” Charlotte rubs at her temples, eyes closed, as Lola makes a noise like she’s not too sure if that’s a compliment, “a few weeks ago, you promised me you were just friends -”

“He’s a hopeless romantic who keeps hearing about cheerleaders sleeping with people who aren’t him, lemme put him out of his misery -”

“By fucking him? What if he catches further feelings for you?”

“I dunno, I’ll kill him?” Lola suggests flippantly, and when Charlotte cracks her eyes open to level a glare at Lola, the dark haired girl is grinning, clearly joking.

“Why Tommy? Why can’t you sleep with someone less related to me?” Charlotte hisses, tone vaguely annoyed and desperate, “I thought you were getting laid? What’s up with you and Nikki anyways?” There’s a shift in her tone, and Lola makes a face, pressing a little harder with her pencil.

“I am sleeping with someone less related to you,” Lola says, though there’s a strangely guarded quality to her voice, “not Nikki, for the record; he’s the one who suggested I sleep with Tommy to begin with. He’s too much of a bitch to fuck me himself,” she mutters, mostly to herself, a little wrinkle creasing the bridge of her nose as she thinks about it.

“Wait, you’re seeing someone? For real? And it’s not Nikki?” Charlotte’s expression lit up, and Lola gave her a calculating looking out of the corner of her eye.

“I bet we both know another person I’m not sleeping with,” and Lola’s tone is mean and a little venomous as she deftly changes the subject, “how is our favourite exchange student, by the way?” Charlotte realises too late that her excited questioning of Lola’s private life may have touched a nerve. For all that Lola’s become more open in the few months they’ve been friends, there were strange lines Charlotte kept finding. Lola never really acted as though she cared much about Charlotte and Razzle’s vague status, so to use it against Charlotte was a surprise, and a clear giveaway that one of those lines had been crossed. It got Lola’s message across well enough, and Charlotte’s mouth snapped closed.

Lola was a terrible distraction when she wanted to be.

“Lola’s not seeing anyone,” Nikki says flatly around his cigarette, and when Charlotte realises she’s gossiping with Nikki Sixx, she wonders idly where her life went wrong, “she’s fucking someone,” he corrected, “and she refuses to tell me who, but she’s not seeing anyone.” He sounds far more annoyed than Charlotte had anticipated, and she can’t help herself. She tugs on that string.

“Wait, so it’s actually not you?”

“Lola’s dad is built like He-Man, Master of the Fucking Universe, have you seen him, Charlie? I couldn’t stick it in his daughter and bring myself to look him in the eye every other day; and I’m past worrying if he’s gonna toss me into space like he’s an Olympic hammer thrower,” Nikki considers for a moment, before heaving a sigh, “I just don’t wanna disappoint him.”

“You think fucking Lola’s gonna disappoint her dad?” Charlotte’s brow wrinkled with slight confusion, “why do you even talk to her dad every other day?”

“We work together?” Nikki says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world, and oh, suddenly Charlotte knows exactly why the back of the fry cook in Leo’s looked so familiar. Nikki can obviously read it on her face as the realisation, the full understanding of the situation dawns on Charlotte, but it still doesn’t stop her from bursting out with laughter.

“Oh dude, you definitely cannot fuck your boss’s daughter, no matter how much you so clearly want to -”

“Hey!” Nikki snapped, “bold words coming from you, Miss Lee; you already made sure Razz has had the full American High School Experience, or are you waiting for Prom to go full cliché about it?”

“Nikki, I’ve already punched you in the face once, so help me -”

“Yeah but now I know what to expect, I’m kinda into it,” Nikki’s grin is all teeth, and he leans across the table, into Charlotte’s space, “do it again, Miss Lee,” he teases, offering up his cheek to her, grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte makes a disgusted noise, leaning back, crossing her arms.

“You disgust me; can you please quit your job so you can fuck Lola?”

Thankfully, this seems to take the wind out of Nikki’s sails, his expression falling to something irritated as he huffs and drops his gaze, sitting back dejectedly, and pointedly refusing, unable to come with a snide comeback in time to save face.

“Lola would punch you in the face,” Charlotte pointed out, tone a little smug, and Nikki presses his lips together, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“So would that leggy redhead of yours,” he’s quick to change the conversation, “isn’t she in the musical? You know my band’s still looking for a singer -”

“Lemme stop you right there,” Charlotte stops Nikki in his tracks, holding up a single hand for silence, “first of all, the only person Eileen hates more than you is Vince Neil, and she told me personally that she’d rather eat glass than join your band, secondly -”

“You talked about my band with her?” There’s something a little bashful in Nikki’s voice, and the blush hasn’t left his cheeks; the whole picture would be endearing if he wasn’t such a colossal asshole.

“Secondly,” Charlotte tries again, “you know her name’s Eileen; everyone knows her name is Eileen, stop calling her my leggy redhead,” she ordered, before taking a deep breath, trying to let her irritation subside, “and thirdly, Lola was the one who asked Eileen to be in your band, Eileen just brought it up to me because she knew Tommy was in it.” Nikki, who had already been pink all over, was steadily turning red, trying to hide it as he made a show of patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“Lola... uh, she talks about my band? She asked if Eileen wanted to join us?” He’s shooting for casual and missing the mark miserably, much to Charlotte’s delight.

“You’re so in love with her,” she smirks. Nikki scowls at her. The bell rings.

i have found a way to watch video in your head. high definition, with instant replay. it is called having regrets.

When Eileen invites Charlotte to the drive in, and suggests bringing Razzle, she insists it’s not a date, that some of the people from the musical were just getting together to watch the new horror movie, and she thought it would be good for Razzle to experience a proper, drive-in movie. That probably should have set of alarm bells in Charlotte’s mind, since everyone knew that if you take someone to a horror movie at the drive-in, you generally don’t end up actually watching much of the movie. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book.

But Eileen’s adamant, and Charlotte honestly wouldn’t actually mind sneaking off with Razzle at some point, if the opportunity arose, not that she’s admit that.

“I should ask Lola to go,” Tommy says, tone a little wistful, when, on Thursday, Charlotte tells him her plans for the following evening; alarm bells definitely start ringing.

They’re in Tommy’s kitchen after school, with his mom at the supermarket, and his dad at work, they’ve got the house to themselves, apart from Tommy’s sister upstairs, monopolising the phone. Charlotte’s sitting on the counter, while Tommy’s staring into the refrigerator, not actually looking at what’s in there, thoughts miles away as he considers his own words.

“Shut that if you’re not going to get anything, and no you shouldn’t,” Charlotte shuts him down immediately, to which Tommy frowns, asking derisively when she became the boss of him, slamming the fridge closed, “I thought you two were just friends,” Charlotte counters with.

“I can ask a friend to the drive-in,” though the way he suddenly can’t meet her gaze betrays him, and he flits over to a cupboard, opening it and staring at the food inside, trying to decide on an afternoon snack, “why are you here, anyways?” At this, Charlotte goes quiet and pensive, looking down at her knees as her heels kick softly against the cupboards below, trying not to think about how her mother keeps leaving college brochures out, with Law, Accounting, and Medicine courses all meticulously highlighted, or how whenever they’re in the same room, she’s treated to passive aggressive questions about whether she’s seen the brochures her parents know she definitely hasn’t touched.

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” Charlotte finally surfaces from her thoughts to see that Tommy is waiting for an answer.

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“If you’re going to daydream about Lola, I’m going to be an asshole,” Charlotte fired back, snarkily, and Tommy narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ve become kind of a bitch since you started hanging out with Nikki,” he huffs, and Charlotte straightens up where she’s sitting, eyes going wide with disbelief, with slight outrage.

“I’m just fucking sick of hearing you chase after girls who don’t want you! It’s all you ever talk about!”

“Lola wants me! Lola fucking wants me, Charlie!”

“She doesn’t want you, she wants to pity-fuck you so you’ll get off her damn case! Just how naïve are you, Thomas?” Charlotte yells back, and immediately smacks her hand to her mouth, regret written all over her face. Tommy’s expression falls like his heart is breaking. “Tommy -”

“A real, fucking bitch,” there’s a shake in Tommy’s voice that is breaking Charlotte’s heart, and she tries to apologise, but he tells her to go home.

Yes, she leaves, she shuts the door behind herself, but she can’t bring herself to go home. Her feet carry her while her mind is blank, but when she looks up, she’s pushing open the door to the gas station, seeing Mick Mars look up from his magazine. Before he greets her, she sees the way his eyes search the space around her, roam the empty fuel pumps, as if expecting Tommy to pop out behind her. Then, once he considers himself safe, he puts down his magazine, tilting his head curiously at her, at her dejected demeanour.

“Charlotte?” She’s actually surprised that he knows her name, and Charlotte hovers in the door, letting in the cold air from outside as she deliberates. Why had she come here of all places? “Are you okay?” The words sound strange, like he’s not used to saying them, not used to showing any sort of care, but she appreciates them nonetheless.

“I was a massive asshole to Tommy,” the words spill from her before she can stop them, and she watches Mick’s expression, can almost see him fight back several sarcastic or congratulatory remarks, suppressing his own well-worn irritation for her cousin, instead, just making a noise in the back of his throat that she can’t quite decipher. Then, he looks out the window, looks to the clock on the wall, and takes his feet off the counter carefully.

“Do you want a slurpee?” He asks, obviously a little uncertain of how to proceed.

“Not really,” Charlotte admits, and Mick awkwardly looks around, as if to offer something else.

“Do you smoke?” He’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Charlotte shoves her hands into her coat pockets, shaking her head, looking at the floor, not quite sure where to go from here herself, “do you mind if I smoke?”

“No,” her voice is small.

They sit on the step by the door outside the gas station, side by side, silent for a few minutes as Mick smokes his cigarette. No cars approach, but they watch some drive by as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

“I told him Lola doesn’t want him, that she’s just interested in pity-fucking him because she thinks it’d get him off her case,” Charlotte admits, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Mick wince, a sign that what she’d said truly was a dick move.

“That would’a broken the kid’s heart,” Mick muses around his cigarette, and Charlotte, who’d had her knees curled up to her chest, rests her chin on them, with a quiet ‘I know’.

“He said I turned into an asshole since I became friends with Nikki Sixx, and then I just managed to prove him right,” she seethes, disappointed in herself more than anything else.

“That’s your first problem; being friends with Nikki Sixx.”

“That was an accident,” Charlotte tried to defend herself, “and I’ve been friends with Nikki for kind of a while, honestly, but I was just so sick of hearing Tommy moon over girls who don’t even look twice at him, like they hung the stars in the sky -”

“Charlotte,” Mick interrupts her, his voice soft but insistent, and when she finally looks at him, he’s actually frowning at her, hands stilled with another cigarette half-pulled from it’s packet, “that’s not... you know why what you said hurt him, right? You know you could’a said that about any other cheerleader he was into and it would’a rolled right off his back, right?”

Oh. Oh no. Slowly, Charlotte’s expression crumbles as the full weight of her words dawns upon her, her guilt skyrocketing. Face in her hands, she actually wails, and Mick gives a firm pat on the back as a show of support.

“They’re friends, Mick.”

“I know, Charlotte.”

“God, fuck, he probably thinks that I mean she doesn’t even like him as a friend, Mick!”

“Yeah,” he sighed deeply, giving another pat, “I know, Charlotte.”

“I just... don’t want him to get his heart broken,” she admitted, her only attempt to justify herself, which Mick didn’t accept as a proper answer for a moment.

“He’s sixteen, he’s gotta make his own mistakes, and,” at this he hesitates, lighting up his cigarette and taking a long draft as he deliberated saying his next words, “don’t ever let her know I told you this,” he adds seriously, “but the last thing Lola wants to do is hurt that kid; if anything, she’s hoping hooking up with him will strengthen their friendship, and raise his confidence for when he goes after other girls.” This... is a lot to process.

“How do you even know this?” Charlotte asked, bewildered, and Mick scrunches his face up and takes another long inhale on his cigarette.

“We’re friends,” is what he settles on.

“What?”

“Lola and I... are friends,” he sounds like he doesn’t want to admit it, and visibly cringes as he follows it up with, “she cares about that kid, and speaks very highly of him, and of you, honestly, and maybe the kid’s not as irritating as I had him pegged as. He’s still irritating, but he,” and he audibly groans, hanging his head for a moment, as if disappointed that he’s even saying any of this, “he’s a good friend to Lola.” It’s like the words themselves hurt him to admit, so he changes the topic quickly, “she told me he’s in a band with Sixx, actually,” and his tone is thankfully much less strained as he straightens his posture a little, ignoring Charlotte’s frankly flabbergasted expression, “I’ve been seriously considering joining them.”

“You sing?” Is what Charlotte hears herself say, without really registering it. Mick snorts derisively.

“Fuck no, I play guitar.”

“You sho- you should join them,” Charlotte babbles, trying to make sense of everything that she’d just learned, and now this of all things, but it’s going to take her a while.

“I should,” he agrees with the barest hint of a smile, once more clapping her on the back. He hesitates before he stands, like he wants to say something else, but instead, he gives an awkward smile and gets to his feet, heading back inside, leaving Charlotte in silence.

Eileen gives her a lift to school the following morning, seething about how Peach got a part-time job and their parents still aren’t happy. It’s conflicting for the older sister, who hates hearing the derisive way her parents refer to Peach as a ‘burger flipper’, while Peach herself had sneered when Eileen had asked about the job, telling her older sister that she was done grovelling at their parents’ feet just to exist, with an implied ‘unlike you’ which had been so uncharacteristic of the usually kind and upbeat Peach that it had sent Eileen spiralling. It was the third day in a row Eileen had been ranting about it, about how she just wanted to support Peach, but that her whole family appeared to be turning on each other.

Charlotte found herself relating to that particular sentiment far too well.

Half their ragtag bunch of lunchtime misfits is notably absent from their usual lunchtime hang out, so while Charlotte spends the forty minutes picking apart her food like she’s trying to deconstruct it atomically, Razzle sits diligently as Eileen carefully and meticulously braids his hair, while he asks if he needs to bring anything, or wear anything special to the drive in that Friday. Charlotte’s not paying them any attention, just letting her gaze roam distractedly essentially until the bell rings, and Eileen pulls the hairband from her own hair to secure Razzle’s braid, before taking off.

“Anybody home in that head of yours, Charlie? The bell’s gone,” Razzle’s offering her his hand where he’s standing, and Charlotte finally returns to reality from her blank, concerned mind, wiping the last few crumbs of her sandwich on her jeans picking up her bag with one hand and taking Razzle’s hand with the other. Today he’s chosen to wear a royal purple collared shirt, several sized too big for him, with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into tight, acid-washed jeans littered with naturally-made holes, his backpack on his back, and a black, corduroy jacket slung over one shoulder; with his newly acquired braid, the whole look is quite fetching, quite -

“You look like a prince,” Charlotte feels rather foolish for even saying it, can feel as the blush rises on her cheeks, but Razzle’s beaming as he pulls her to her feet, and doesn’t let go of her hand for a moment.

“Well then I must be truly lucky to get court a princess like you,” and coming from anyone else, it would have sounded cheesy, or the phrase princess would have been derisive or snide, but he’s sincere, almost painfully so, and Charlotte ducks her head, “not courting,” Razzle corrects quickly, and Charlotte doesn’t think about how her heart sinks at that, despite how they’d talked through this.

“Princess Charlie -” something about the way he says her name always hits her hard, because hearing how it sounds, the reverence with which he says it, the nervousness, she leans in and kisses him quickly, can’t help herself, can’t stop herself. But then she’s leaning back, getting a better grip on her backpack, but - “wait, wait, wait, Charlie, wait -” Razzle, for the barest moment, tightens his grip on her hand, and she’s terrified that she crossed a line, that she’s done something wrong, but she turns back, and he doesn’t seem to be mad or concerned, instead he drops the jacket he’d been holding, gently taking her face in his hands, “can’t spring that on me and get away with it; lemme do it proper.”

i am going to build a new boyfriend out of garbage and dirty feathers. no one else will touch him.

“Did you tell Tommy we were coming here?” Eileen hissed, startling the hell out of Charlotte at the concession stand at the drive-in before the movie began. Charlotte, who had been hovering in line, nervously retucking her nice blouse into her skirt every few minutes, almost jumped out of her skin at her friend’s voice in her ear.

“Yeah, I - why?” Looking around, Charlotte thankfully can’t see Tommy’s shitbox of a car, but it becomes readily apparent the source of Eileen’s frustrations, when she spots a shiny, red sports car parked four cars past where Keanu and his good friend and well known fellow theatre kid Alex Winter were sitting on the hood of Keanu’s car, chatting animatedly with Razzle, who they had been quick to warm to him upon meeting him about twenty minutes ago.

“Charlie!” The name came out as a frustrated noise from between Eileen’s clenched teeth, her eyes glued to Vince Neil’s ostentatious car, and Charlotte looked down for a moment, before adjusting her skirt again and retucking her shirt as she spoke.

“I didn’t know he’d tell Vince; I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday afternoon,” and she hesitates before adding, “we got into this fight and I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologise but I don’t know how, so it kind of slipped my mind, I didn’t know -”

“We’ll talk about you and Tommy later, I promise, but right now I need you to tell me three convincing arguments as to why I shouldn’t pop one of Vince Neil’s fucking tires.” Eileen’s hatred of Vince is perhaps getting out of hand, Charlotte considers, prying Eileen’s vice-like grip from her upper arm, considering for a moment.

“I know you have no qualms about becoming a felon to protect Peach,” Charlotte says with half a smirk.

“Absolutely none,” Eileen agrees without missing a beat, which was both amusing and heartwarming.

“- but your mom would probably pull you out of public school to enrol you in that strict, girls-only, future-nun-school, Our Lady Of Perpetual Sorrow,” Charlotte’s trying so desperately not to smirk, not to give her amusement away at the concept, “and you can say goodbye to any chance you had of ever making out with your co-star on or off stage.”

Eileen turns as red as her hair, but at least she takes a moment to calm down, glancing over her shoulder at the three boys who were waiting for them. Keanu looks over for a moment, catching her gaze, waving and grinning from ear to ear, and Charlotte practically cackles as Eileen’s blush deepens.

“Look, Eileen look,” Charlotte pointed insistently back at the boys, to where Alex had hopped off the hood of Keanu’s car, and was making his way over to the pack of kids Eileen had vaguely gestured to earlier, mentioning that they made up most of the technical theatre department, despite their leather jackets and motorcycles, leaving Razzle and Keanu chattering away, “Alex is going to hang out with the Crew boys, leaving Keanu free to comfort you during the scary movie.”

Eileen takes a deep breath, not even pretending like that wasn’t what she wanted, steeling herself to head back, and ignore Vince Neil’s goddamn car. After a beat, however, she turns to Charlotte, looking altogether stern and collected.

“I know I said you and Razzle could stay in my car, since I’m hanging out with Keanu, but don’t have sex in there -”

“What?!”

“Don’t have sex with Razzle in my car,” Eileen practically ordered, and Charlotte nervously looked to the guy ahead of her in line. He looked back at her, between the two girls, then thankfully stepped up to the counter without a word.

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

“Well you also weren’t planning on being make out buddies after getting drunk and being the gross PDA couple at Heather’s party,” Eileen sniped back, “listen, I just want Peach to be able to sit in my car without either of your bare asses having touched any of the seats.”

“I won’t let either of our bare asses touch the seat,” Charlotte agreed, mortified.

“And no stains -”

“Eileen!” Charlotte all but screeches, right as the messages before the movie started playing.

“Eileen, the charming Mister Reeves wants a word with you,” Razzle’s voice joins them just moments before Charlotte’s pretty sure she would have expired from embarrassment, and at the mere mention of Keanu, Eileen relaxes a little. All three of them glance over to Keanu’s car, to see the man himself leaning against his windshield, cigarette idle in one hand as he watches the first of the preview trailers. As much as he makes gestures like he’s about to take a drag, the cigarette never quite makes it to his lips before he extends his arm out beside him again, like he’s going through the motions without really following through. Eileen, as if drawn to him by a spell, practically floats away.

“She’s a strange one,” he says fondly, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t point out the hypocrisy in his words, “Keanu and Alex act like she’s some aloof, inscrutable woman; weren’t sure we were talking about the same woman,” he huffed a laugh, much to Charlotte’s disbelief.

“Eileen... she is an aloof, inscrutable woman, you just happen to live with her arch nemesis, and- you’re- we’re- you know, we’re...” Charlotte gestured between herself and Razzle, flushing, as his smile widened, “and you know, I’m her best friend.”

“Guys, are you buying food or what?” The concierge asks; a tired-looking kid Charlotte recognises from Tommy’s year. She hops forward, ordering food, and waiting for it to be prepared, all while standing by Razzle’s side, his chin on her should as they watch the preview trailers. He’s behind her, warm and solid and grounding, which is exactly what she needs as her cousin’s beat-up excuse of a car screeches into the lot, almost spraying gravel thanks to his sharp turn into the first available space.

“Oh god, oh fucking hell,” Charlotte breathes, clenching her eyes tightly shut, “if you see a blonde-haired, six-foot stick-insect, who looks like he’d cheat on his girlfriend,” she starts, whole face scrunching with frustration, “and-or Nikki fucking Sixx, well, that would be about right; that feels like how tonight would go,” she lets out a long, frustrated breath, and she feels Razzle lift his chin from her shoulder right as he makes a noise of confusion.

“Tommy just arrived,” she clarified.

“Oh?”

“And we kind of got into an argument yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte’s name is called and she collects the bucket of popcorn she’d ordered for the pair of them, and Razzle picks up their drinks, heading back to the car as the movie opens.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s going on with you and that Drummer Boy?” Razzle asks as they’re settling in the back seat together. Charlotte’s detaching the front seat’s headrests with possibly too much vigour, but declines, despite the frustration written all over her face. Razzle keeps a careful hold on the drinks that he’d thought were safe to balance on the centre console as Charlotte foisted herself over the back seat to pull the blankets she’d packed from the trunk.

“You sure?” Razzle tried again, still with one hand nervously keeping the drinks in place, the other firmly holding their bucket of popcorn out of harm’s way. With a blanket securely bundled in her arms, Charlotte gives him a flat look, that quickly disappears in the face of his genuine concern.

“No, Razz,” she sighed, “I’m just mad at myself for letting this, like, fester, you know? I should have apologised sooner,” she huffs a sigh, unfurling the blanket with far more care now, draping it across both of their laps.

“You’ve a good heart, Miss Lee,” Razzle assures her, but Charlotte’s face scrunches reflexively at the nickname, having only ever associated it with Nikki Sixx’s dreadful attempts to hit on her.

“Thanks, but please don’t call me that,” Charlotte gives a strained little smile, but Razzle nods and takes it in stride, finally getting himself comfortable and sitting back against the seat, one arm draped across the back, the other holding the popcorn in his lap.

“No worries, Love; I could call you Charlie, but I always thought it sounded a bit weird coming from me,” Razzle is rambling as Charlotte settles against him, tucking herself up close to him, “had a mate back home called Charlie, but short for Charles; absolute cockhead,” he clicks his tongue as Charlotte can’t help but giggle, “I could always keep just calling you Love, but it’s not as personal, you know? And Charlotte... it’s a pretty name, but it would be like if you started calling me Nicholas, be a bit weird, don’t ya think?” He mused, and Charlotte’s eyes drifted from the opening scene of the movie, where a menacing looking knife-glove was being created, to Razzle’s face as he chattered away.

“I could keep calling you Princess Charlie,” as he says that, he looks to her, and seems a little startled to see her looking back at him, “like the other day,” his voice is softer, eyes wide, roaming her face, as if trying to capture her fond expression in his memory forever.

“You wouldn’t imagine your friend Charlie from back home a tiara?” Charlotte’s voice is amused, as is her expression, and Razzle’s eyes crease in the corners as he smiles; his eyes as so blue, so honest.

“You’d be the only Princess Charlie in my life,” he assures, giving her shoulder a squeeze where his arm is wrapped around her, and Charlotte doesn’t even think about how they’re less than a minute into the movie before she’s kissing him.

At least it gets her to stop thinking about Tommy.

Honestly, it gets her to stop thinking about everyone and everything that isn’t Razzle in this car in this moment, which is fine for her, because her life is somehow currently a stupid, complicated mess of people and emotions, and Razzle is nice to her, and a damn good kisser, and gentle, and his hands are warm -

“Miss Lee, does the Declaration of Independence mean nothing to you?” Comes shouted through the wound-up window of the car, startling Charlotte, who’s been in Razzle’s lap with his lips on her neck, so much that she jumped, smacking the back of her head into the roof of the car. Razzle reached out for her, expression concerned and lips kiss-bruised, as Charlotte held her head, wincing. Looking to the window, however, she could see Nikki Sixx pressing his face to the glass, looking altogether unsightly, with Lola a few feet behind him, drawing something in the gravel with the toe of her shoe.

Assholes!

“I’m gonna kill him,” Charlotte says with deadly calm the moment she understands the situation, though Razzle seems to have anticipated this, and has his hands on her thighs, keeping her secure in his firm grip.

“No,” Razzle says, voice equally as calm, his gaze focused on Charlotte, and not on Nikki who had put his open mouth on the window, puffed out his cheeks, and proceeded to lick the glass. Charlotte scrunches her expression for a moment, internal debate raging between her desire to stay in the car with Razzle, and her need to beat the ever-loving shit out of Nikki Sixx for being a smartass.

“I’m gonna crack the window and inch and tell him to fuck off,” Charlotte says, looking back to Razzle, who was wearing an expression of faint amusement, and his grip became a little less firm. Reaching over, she wound down the window an inch. Immediately, Nikki looked through the gap, cheek still pressed to the window as his gaze darted around the cabin of the car, no longer obscured by the window tint.

“I’m surprised you know what the Declaration of Independence is,” Charlotte said, tone icy as she moved to sit next to Razzle.

“Honestly I stole that line from Lola,” Nikki admitted, and upon hearing her name, even faintly, Lola joins them, thankfully not pressing herself to the window, instead standing close to Nikki, her hip by his, hands in her jacket pockets.

“Were they doing it?” Lola asks far too casually, almost too quiet for Charlotte and Razzle to hear, though they do, and both blush, even as Nikki pulls back, making a face.

“No,” Charlotte calls back, and Lola’s expression turns smug as she holds out her hand, making a ‘hand it over’ gesture to Nikki, only for him to begrudgingly hand over a five dollar note.

“Shoulda waited ‘til the end of the movie to ask,” Lola’s grin stretched wider, even as Charlotte tried to splutter a protest, and Razzle had to press his face against her shoulder to muffle his laugh at the whole situation.

“Why are you assholes here?” Charlotte hissed; strangely, Lola’s expression fell, and she stepped back again, adding more to her gravel drawing with her shoe, not looking at the car.

“We’re at the drive in because I’ve heard this is a good movie,” Nikki goes back to staring at them through the inch crack in the window, “and we’re here-” his tone turns proud while his smile turns sharp as he taps his nail against the glass, “because we’re trying to give Tommy and Heather privacy,” he all but sings. There’s... a lot to unpack there, however before Charlotte can process any of it, Lola grab’s Nikki by the elbow, pulling him away.

“Come on, I didn’t take a night off to talk to people I can see every day, did you bring weed or not?” She insisted, tone frustrated leading him towards the concierge stand. Something about it had Charlotte’s heart sinking, even as Razzle’s still chuckling and confused about what was going on, Charlotte’s heart was sinking.

Tommy had driven Nikki and Lola - and Heather? What? - to the drive in. Tommy and Lola had almost definitely spoken about the fight Charlotte and Tommy had had, which means Lola almost definitely knew what Charlotte had said.

“Everything okay, Princess?” Razzle had asked gently, his arm around her once more as Charlotte had buried her face in her hands.

“My whole life is fucked,” Charlotte muttered, and Razzle pulled her in close to him. Her legs bridge over his thighs, and he’s holding her close with both arms, keeping her warm and secure, and Charlotte takes a moment, then another, then a third, to take comfort.

She’s going to miss this. Going to miss him. Fuck, she can’t think like that, can’t keep reminding herself of the time limit on their friendship, the reason she’s scared to call it anything more.

Everything is fucked, but this one moment, how Razzle was holding her close, devoid of it’s context, it was pretty damn great.

a friend will help you move. a best friend will help you move bodies. but if you have to move your best friend's body, you're on your own

Charlotte goes to see Tommy on Saturday morning, but when she gets there, he’s not home.

“He’s at a movie~ with a girl~!” Athena sings, when Charlotte asks, and Charlotte, confused and concerned, looked to her aunt, Tommy’s mother, who gave a kind smile and nod of confirmation.

“He was so nervous and excited, spent a long time doing his hair just right,” she giggled fondly, pride in her voice, but Charlotte’s heart was in her throat. Had what she said somehow guilted Lola into dating her cousin? That could only end badly for both of them, oh fuck -

Except when she bursts into Leo’s at eleven, after most of the breakfast diners had vacated, and the lunch rush was still about half an hour away, Lola was standing behind the counter... with Peach? Teaching her how to fold silverware in napkins correctly?

“Do you know... do know that thing where you fold it into a swan?” Peach asks, giggling, right as one of the other kind-faced staff members approaches Charlotte and asks her how many people she’d like a table for. Lola instinctually looks to the door, and Peach catches on a moment later, and suddenly both girls behind the counter are frowning in Charlotte’s direction. Lola mutters something to Peach that’s too quiet for Charlotte to hear, and the younger redhead immediately takes the silverware they’ve already wrapped, going around and dispensing it amongst each table’s silverware holder. Peach is in uniform.

“I just...” Charlotte’s voice is soft, while her gaze is locked with Lola’s, brushing past the host who’d greeted her, “I need to talk to Lola.” The host looks over his shoulder at Lola, who looks his way for the barest moment and gives half a shrug. The kid backs off, looking past Charlotte to the street outside to see if anyone else was coming in after her, and upon seeing no-one, he heads back to the counter.

“Hey Peach,” Charlotte says as the redhead slides past her to get to another table. Peach doesn’t even look at her when she gives a flat greeting in response.

“How can I help you?” Lola’s painfully sweet customer-service voice hurts more than any sarcastic remark she could have come up with, and it’s eating Charlotte alive to know what Tommy told her, what Lola thinks Charlotte thinks of her to make her act so hostile. The way she’s smiling so widely coupled with her dead-eyed stare is unnerving.

“Keola!” It comes as a shock when a firm voice comes from the kitchen, and Lola practically jumps from her skin. Looking to the source, Charlotte sees the face of the man she’s only ever seen the back of in the kitchen, taller than anyone else in the restaurant, and he looks like Lola.

“What?” Lola hisses, surprising Charlotte, and the man looks to Charlotte, giving her a warm, friendly smile, before he answers.

“If you need to talk to,” and the man pauses, tipping his head a little as he looks to Charlotte, “Charlie?” And Charlotte, kind of confused and nervous as to how he knows her name, nods in confirmation, “you can take your break, okay? Water, fresh air, outside -” and without waiting for a confirmation, he calls the kid who had greeted Charlotte to come and take Lola’s place at the counter, as Lola begrudgingly grabs a bottle of water from beneath the counter, and storms out from behind the counter, past Charlotte to the door.

Charlotte, a little terrified, looks to the man, who gives another bright smile.

“Sorry we haven’t properly met, I’m Leo, glad to finally meet you, Charlie,” and immediately everything makes total and complete sense, and Charlotte nervously greets him, and takes off after Lola, who had disappeared down the street.

#nikki sixx #Razzle Dingley #Tommy Lee #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue #nikki sixx x oc #razzle dingley x oc #tommy lee x oc #dirtbags #the dirt imagine #the angry lizard writes

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bellamyblake · 3 years

Photo

The perfect sleeping arrangement

for @star-sky-earth

Alternate Universe-Canon divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Mommy!Kink, Nightmares, Anxiety Disorder

Bellamy always tries to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders but at night he's breaking apart-anxiety and nightmares are tearing him up, yet he won't let Clarke take care of him. Unless she insists and he starts opening up to her.

The only time Bellamy ever allowed Clarke to take care of him was at night.

During the day it was all about him doing everything he possibly could-going hunting, passing by medbay to bring her lunch, toss a scarf over her naked neck so she doesn’t get sick, ask her mom if she got anything for breakfast over her rolling eyes, make sure she comes back home before ten even though there’s a council meeting that night that he won’t attend because of his guard shift.

And it wasn’t just about her really-still, two years after they set their camp and started actually building it, he was taking care of the hundred as if they were his own children just like when they first landed-he brought Jasper a new jacket, fixed the roof of the co-joined cabin that Harper, Monty, Miller and a few other kids used, made sure to raid long-forgotten bunkers for winter supplies, participated in the shoveling of the snow, smoaking the meat from the game he had caught, helping Raven with the electricity solutions she needed figuring out as well as taking up as many guard shifts as he could especially during the winter when it was harder for the delinquents.

He even volunteered once a week in the small day care they opened last fall, reading books and telling stories to the kids in the midst of giving them a few history lessons here and there.

Overall he was stretching himself a little too thin and Clarke hated it even though whenever they fought about it, he always made sure to remind her that she’s no better than him.

And that may have been true but the thing was, he refused to let anyone ever take care of him, even her.

Even though he made sure she was fine all the damn time and it was the little things that broke her-him making her tea in the evening, bringing her hot water for her freezing feet and making sure she warmed up after her enthusiastic run in the back yard when the first snow hit, him tucking her up at night even when she kicked the blanket or finding the right kind of animal skin so he would sew her gloves for the winter.

He had even learned how to knit from a grounder woman during the summer festival and when they got back to camp he secretly traded a few sweaters for some yarn, only to start working on a beautiful blue scarf for her that he wrapped around her once the first winter days arrived.

It was great being with Bellamy but it was also heartbreaking, watching him give all of himself away and never expect anything in return.

Even when they kissed or had sex he always made sure she’s came first, always made sure to show her just how much he loved her, whispering words about her beautiful body in her ear as he teased her clit and bring her over the edge.

But when Clarke wanted to do the same, he’d try to get away, refusing the attention.

Some mornings she’d feel his hard cock against her butt and reach over to take him, turn around and kiss him, try to give him a good time but he’d kiss her forehead, mumble something like “I’m fine, princess, have to get to work, maybe some other time.” and slip away leaving her angry and sad that he just denied himself pleasure.

She knew why he did it, she had seen it from the moment back at that tree on their unfortunate day trip-he didn’t think he deserved it even though she had tried to make it known, even though she always made sure to show him how much he means to her, how much she loves him-but it wasn’t about that, it has never been about that-the fact remained-he didn’t believe he was worthy of being loved, of pleasure, even when it came from the person he cared for most in the world and who cared for him just as much in return.

The thing was, he tried to hide his problems away from her as well and that had been the last straw to turn things around.

At first it was his inability to sleep because of anxiety-he had a few days or even a week sometimes every month when he couldn’t sleep-nightmares plagued him and left him weak and exhausted but he would try to hide it from her at first until one night she came home and found him so tired that he had passed out by the hearth, having only just started the fire.

She can't even move him no matter how hard she wants to. She kneels down, puts her hands under his armpits and tries but he's so heavy. On top of everything he's all wet from the snow-his jacket's peppered with fastly melting snowflakes, his hair was drenched-the curls stuck to his forehead, he was freezing and she knew his boots leaked too, so she had to get him out of it and warm him up.

”Come on, Bell, wake up, let's get you to bed.” and he manages to wake up, get to a half-awake state but he's so out of it, like a drunk five year old who had absolutely no idea what was happening to him.

”C-larke?”

“Yeah, come on, please I can't lift you on my own."

“I'm tired.” he mumbles.

“I know, but you need to get to bed.”

“Why?”

“Because it's cold out here you'll get sick”

“I'm fine...it's by the fire...just...leave me”

“No, I’m not leaving you, come on, please.” she’s desperate at that point, feels her own tears picking up at her eyes.

“It's okay, I like it here.”

“It's the wooden floor, your back already hurts, it's time for bed, please help me, please,” he groans a little, too tired to even lift his head and look at her but then she adds “for me.”

And that does it.

He manages to lift his feet just a little so she can drag him to bed and spray him diagonally at first, then she starts undressing him slowly, he's moaning everything hurts him-he's absolutely exhausted, tired to his very bone, hadn't slept in days, worked all through it too on top of it.

He's a baby when she undresses him he goes “I’m cold.” when he doesn't have clothes on or “Ohh, my feet!” when she takes his boots off and finds his blisters.

She’s pretty sure he’s only ever saying that because he’s not coherent of anything happening around him and he’s just a child speaking his mind.

It wasn’t just a one time deal, though-it kept happening and it worsened significantly with the change of the seasons-when winter settled he got bad, really damn bad and his anxiety made him jumpy, sad and insomniac.

In the spring it was a little better but still quite hard and the hot summer nights would throw him into another nightmare spiral that could last a month and leave him absolutely exhausted until the autumn winds hit and allowed him to breathe somewhat.

She takes him to Jackson when she comes home one night to find him passed out in his work clothes again. This time he's too tired to fully wake so she has to pile the blankets and pillows on the floor and sleep with him there to make sure he's warm enough.

Clarke figures out quickly that he loves being spooned, held, kissed-he groaned content when she ran her fungers through his hair-he liked being warm but he didn’t wear clothes in bed except for his boxers and he enjoyed most of all when she tucked him in first after taking all of his clothes and then sliding in bed, wrapping herself like a monkey around him and holding him tight.

Jackson had prescribed him some anxiety meds but after talking to some grounders at the summer Polis trade between clans, Clarke found herbs they could use to brew as a tea for him to drink.

It didn’t always do the job but it helped significantly.

Still, she figured out he had a need for her late at night in those vulnerable moments and the more they occured, the more he allowed himself to be like this despite the constant battle in his heart.

He liked being pampered, liked her momming him, taking care of him like that.

But there was still something that tips the scales and it comes from the most unexpected places of all.

Second year around when the camp is up and running, all of them have to go through the mandatory health check ups.

Of course, Bellamy had tried to get away with his, sneak out but Clarke had grabbed him by the collar-literally and dragged him there for his mom to do it, knowing if it was her, they probably would end up with her pinned on the cot, him on top, pushing into her, instead of her taking in his pulse.

And that’s when it happens-her mom takes in his blood pressure and finds it too high, listens to his heart carefully and furrows her eyebrows as she focuses. Clarke feels the cold spread through her from her back through her entire body when her mom tells them things are out of norm but that if he takes some blood pressure medicine to regulate it, everything will be alright.

Clarke hates herself for it though-she should’ve noticed it sooner. She always let herself be held by him and she had noticed, as she rest her head over his chest, that his heart beat too fast but she thought it was just him being too tired or maybe the anxiety was making it worse for him but she never once thought something could be wrong.

That’s when things changed and she refused to let him get away with being taken care of anymore.

His heart beat became her good night lullaby.

During the day he was still Bellamy the guard, Bellamy the hunter, Bellamy the protector of his silly kids starting with Jasper, Bellamy the love of her life who brought her lunch.

But at night things shifted.

He’d sit in bed and wait for her to come out of the bathroom.

“Took your anxiety meds?” he nods seriously “The blood pressure ones?”

“Yep.”

“You sure?” he had stupid phase where he tried not to take them for a few weeks so they could save recources and ration them and she hadn’t talked to him for days after.

“I’m sure, Clarke.”

“Good boy.” she praises as she comes over “Time for bed now.” she lays him down covers him up and he looks at her with big brown beautiful eyes.

”You coming?”

“Right in, you big baby.” she promises as she leans over and kisses his forehead.

“Can you hold me?” he’s learned to ask for that with time and she had made sure to show him how proud she was of it.

“Of course.” she tucks him in and then quickly slides in on the other side of bed, wrapping herself around him, her arm over his chest and leg thrown over his. Her other one sneaks under his neck and she pushes his head to her chest so that he’s a little lower than her and her chin cover his head. That way she had quick access to his hair and she runs her fingers through his curls gently, helping him relax.

Because at night she sleeps deep, she doesn’t always hear when he wakes up from his nightmares or terrors and the only thing betraying him would be the dark circles under his eyes in the morning, so she has to ask every night how the previous one had been because only then would he be honest.

“How was last night?” he knows the question will come so he shivers a little as she holds him.

“Not too bad.”

“How many times did you wake up?”

“Once” he lies. She tightens her grip on his chest.

“Your shirt was soaked, Bell.” he shrugs and closes his eyes but she insists ”So? How many times?”

“Three.” he lets out quietly and she wraps herself tighter around him

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

“You know I can't.” she knew he wouldn’t, he never did. Unless she was there to scold him and force him to lay still while she took care of him after a night terror, he wouldn’t say a thing.

He had admitted once that he would wake up gasping for breath but force himself not to move too much and instead just stare at the ceiling while he calmed down so he wouldn’t wake her up.

She hated it. She hated whatever made him hate himself so much that he’d refuse to reach out even to her.

She knew it was about the way he was raised-his mom loved him according to his words and fond memories of her, but she was stern and had expectations for him especially after Octavia was born when the real hell began.

He had anxiety then too, night terrors as well, he may have developed this heart condition just because of the constant stress he was put under, he just had no way of knowing it.

One night as she was holding him he admitted he wouldn’t sleep at night after O was born, he’d check on her and his mom all the time, then sleep by the door when they knew there would be random check ups in Factory.

He’d fall off his bed as he tossed in his nightmare sleep, he’d shake all the time, grow restless or too tired, get angry sometimes-all signs of what he was still suffering from now.

Something else that happened lately as she came to find out-because he was so exhausted from his lack of sleep, he’d take short naps in hiding, away from her, so he wouldn’t bother her with his pain.

He’d go to the small overhang they had in the backyard where they kept the woods and sleep there and she’d hate it when he did that because it was so cold there she worried he’d get sick or he'd hide out in the kitchen while Murphy prepared dinner after bringing in the game he caught with the hunting party outside. He'd even spray on one of the metal tables at Raven and Monty's tent where they discussed plans for the camp.

So she knows, comes to figure out that spooning him and holding him helped a lot so all of this didn't have to happen. So he wouldn't have to hide away.

But something else did too.

Clarke would ask him if he’s okay, if she could do something else besides holding him but he’d of course shake his head and grumple a soft childish “I’m fine.”

She’d know better do, could always tell by the way he folds into her if he’s more vulnerable than usual, if it’s worse that night than the previous from the way his hands tremble or how he pushes his head into her hand looking for her touch.

In those nights, like tonight, she slides her hand down to hix boxers, digs in and pumps his cock to hardness.

He gasps a little, pushes his back into hers and looks up, searching for her eyes.

He doesn't want her to worry so much, so he tries to tell her it's okay but she wouldn't hear it and she jerks him off like this from behind. She knew exactly how he liked it by now-starting slowly, teasingly from the tip of his cock before sliding all the way down and cupping his balls for a moment before taking him in again.

His legs kick off the blanket just a little, he arches his back and she reins him in, calms him down, by kissing him softly, starting from his cheek, to his chin, sliding down to his neck, peppering him with her love, making sure to pay attention to all the freckles she sees in her way.

Her other hand is still in his hair-tucking at his curls, moving his head just the right way to expose more of him to her, give her a better angle as he gasps into her arms and calls for her untill he comes gasping, head buried in her chest, begging to be held, tighter, to be cuddled.

Finally, she lets him roll over when he's spent and he buries his head in her chest.

Clarke knows what he wants.

He loved sucking her tits after a good blowjob like this but she teases him a little like a boy who wants to be fed in the middle of the night but his mom's sleeping.

Bellamy buries his nose between her tits, breathes her in, lets her run her fingers through his curls, soft talk him, baby him until his quiet moans turn to desperate ones and he starts sucking, searching for her through her thin shirt.

“So impatient.” she jokes “You want some of that big boy?”

He whines, writhes against her just a bit, searching for more like a desperate hungry kid.

“What's up?” she runs her fingers through his hair once more while he keeps trying to bury deeper into her, probably hating the fact that she decided to wear a shirt tonight but it was winter and she was cold. “You hungry?”

He groans, buries his head even closer, searches for her nipple but can't find it through the awful angle that her tits are in now that she’s laying on her side “Want me to lift that up for you?” she asks grabbing the hem of her shirt that is in fact one of his “Want to suck on mom's tits?”

He looks up then, moves away a little and she wants to laugh at how cute and adorable he is-his mouth hanging a little, saliva drooling on his chin from his desperate attempts to get to her tits.

He gives her a soft hurt look, his eyes so lost and desperate, the barest of nods and she just can't deny him when he does that-he’s so sweet, so gentle, so broken.

And so exhausted.

“Maybe this will help him fall into a fitful sleep.�� Clarke thinks as she cups his cheek and runs her thumb over the dark circle under his eye.

He's so tired, it's the absolute picture perfect of a boy turned baby needing his mom and a hungry for his partner man.

She can’t handle it, would be lying if this wasn’t doing things to her too, so she raises herself up just a little and pulls her shirt off.

His reaction is immideate, he doesn’t even wait for her to fully lay back down when he takes the nipple of her right breast in his mouth and sucks on it hard.

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her up closer to him, wants to feel all of her pressed to his body, needs to have her there with him.

He doesn't just kiss her he sucks on her like a baby that's expecting for milk to come and it leaves her gasping and thrusting into his leg at the feel of her own wetness pooling into her but it is him that breaks her heart- he's so desperate for love and affection it's absolutely devastating for her.

It's noisy, he's smacking on her like a hungry baby and he's beautiful, so damn beautiful.

But he also never forgets about her-he sneaks his hand down to her ass and squeezes it, which makes her panties drench with her wetness and she grinds a little into him but she doesn't need release-this is about him, just him.

He gets a little hard again but it's not about that either now-he just wants to suck on her breasts and move his hands down her ass then up her back, then to her stomach-he loves touching her stomach, the softness there, the round curves that make her arch her back a little, makes her moan above him, reach out and put her hand on his shoulders, looking for something to support her.

Then he goes down to her panties, sinks in a finger into her making her gasp as he moves to her other breast, smacking just as hard, desperate for her beautiful breasts, desperate to beheld in her arms, to be vulnerable around her but also to love her, to let it pour out of him in any way possible.

And when he's had enough of touching her he brings his fingers up, pulls away for just a moment so he could spread her wetness around her nipple before sucking onto it hard again.

“Bellamy-” she gasps and he moves away from her nipple for just a second, peppers her chest with soft little kisses, moves to the valley of her breasts, drags his tongue there before sucking onto the skin just above her right breast and pulling her closer to him by the waist.

“Bell-”

He moves away a little, looks up at her asking if he did something wrong, worrying like always but she just takes his face in her hands and pulls him in for a kiss. She’s as desperate to have him as he is her but Clarke knows this is about him, so after she lets him go they just pant a little, breathe with hurry and desperation after their recent endeavours.

Her hand falls to his chest, his fast beating heart and she wants to command it to slow down.

“Ready to fall now?” she asks and he sneaks a glance down to her chest again before he looks right up, not daring speak out his desires but trying to silently ask for them anyway.

Without words.

He could never speak for himself.

But she would.

“You can take one if you want to.” she prompts him gently tugging at his neck and pushing him back to her chest.

“You don’t mind?” he asks and his voice comes out too small, too scared for her liking.

Clarke hurries to shake her head.

“In fact I love it.” he tilts his head a little as if asking “Really?” and she smiles “I love having you so close at night.”

HIs head falls and he looks down for a minute, accepting her answer, but trying to gather up the courage to ask something else.

“Will you still hold me?”

“Of course I will.” she promises and he smiles, beams really in a way she rarely sees on him which makes her sad because he should be like this all the time.

He quiets down after but not before slipping his hand back in her pants and sinking three fingers into her again, it's like he just wanted to be there, always, being the Bellamy that he is, to always give in return.

She grinds a little into him, he pumps her some but then they settle.

She watches him, cups his cheek runs her hand through his curly bangs smiles and kisses his forehead.

He gets a little shy like what he wants of her is too much, too weird maybe but she confirms again with a little nod that says ”It's okay, you can go ahead” and he wraps his mouth around her nipple again and smacks like a baby until finally he quiets and they fall asleep like this-his fingers in her and his mouth on her-the perfect sleeping arrangement.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellarke fic #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #smut #kink fic #idk how i wrote this it sucks im sorry #my writing

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fandomrewrites · 3 years

Text

Chasing Butterflies: Twilight’s Last Gleaming

Hello all! As always constructive criticism is appreciated and I hope you enjoy the chapter. Please let me know if your have any imagine requests or want to be added to any of my taglists.

Season 1; Episode 5: Twilight’s Last Gleaming Pairings: OC x OC best friends, no love interests chosen yet Warnings: Swearing and mild violence Word Count: 2,265

Season 1 Masterlist

"E! Nova! You guys gotta get up and see this!" Harper calls as she walks into the girls tent. She moves to shake Elara awake and turns to check that Nova is up when Elara blinks her eyes open. "Come on!" She says once more leaving the tent.

Elara and Nova share a look but stand up following Elara's old cellmate out of their tent. Elara stands with just a singlet and underwear and Nova in a sports bra and pants. Upon exiting the tent they see the rest of the delinquents looking up at something in the sky.

They follow their gazes to see a pod from the ark falling to Earth. "They're coming to help us. Now we can kick some grounder ass." Jones says from the girls left.

The rest of the delinquents cheer. Nova rolls her eyes as she hears Roma mutter, "Please tell me they brought some shampoo."

"I hope they sent weapons." Nova says.

"And medical supplies and warmer clothes." Elara adds.

Nova turns on her heel, heading back inside the tent. She throws on a shirt and her jacket then starts packing a small bag. A few minutes later Elara joins her back inside, "We're going, right?" Elara asks.

"I am. And I'll bring some others. You should stay behind though." Nova replies.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know where Clarke is right now. You need to stay here since you have medical experience."

Elara sighs, "Fine. Just be safe."

"Always am."

This comment makes Elara raise an eyebrow at the petite girl, "Please. Don't make me laugh." Nova smirks then walks past her and out of the tent.

"Octavia! Ready?" Nova calls.

Octavia nods, "Yeah, we just have to get Bellamy." Nova follows Octavia into the tent used for setting up plans, "We should get moving. Everyone's ready."

"No one's going anywhere. Not while it's dark it isn't safe. We'll head out at first light; pass the word." Bellamy answers.

"You aren't the boss of me in case you’ve forgotten. I'm going whether you like it or not." Nova snaps at the older boy.

"Can you please listen for once in your life." Bellamy sighs.

Octavia answers before Nova can argue, "Everyone for a hundred miles saw this thing come down. What if the grounders get to it first? Bell, we should go now."

"I said we wait till sunrise." He says once more.

Octavia huffs and leaves the tent, "I'm going. I don't care if I go alone. No grounder is going to get me. And you can't make me stay." Nova says. She turns on her heel to leave but Bellamy grabs her arm, stopping her.

"Nova, I'm serious. I don't want you getting hurt."

Nova carefully looks at Bellamy, "If you keep acting like that I'm going to start thinking you care about me, Blake."

Bellamy cracks a smile, "Maybe I do, angel."

"Well you know I can fight. A grounder doesn't have a chance against me. And if you're that concerned, come with me."

"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

Nova tilts her head and smirks, "What made you think that?"

Bellamy rolls his eyes and finally let's go of her arm. "So, are you coming with me?" Nova asks.

Bellamy sighs, "Sorry for this, Nova." Nova opens her mouth to ask what he means but before any words leave her mouth Bellamy hits her over her head with a heavy stick, knocking her out.

Nova slumps over, Bellamy catching her before she hits the ground. He gently lays her down and walks past her out the tent, getting ready to leave the camp without anyone else's knowledge.

Outside of the tent Elara made herself busy talking with some of the other delinquents. After about 15 minutes Elara looks around, a concerned look plastered on her face. "Have any of you seen Nova?"

The delinquents around her shake their heads, "She probably left." Atlas says.

Elara turns her head to look at her ex-boyfriend. "Bellamy said to wait until sunrise."

"Like she would listen to him. Come on, Elara. You're her best friend. Don't you know her better than that?"

Elara rolls her eyes, "Did anyone see her leave?"

"I didn't."

"Then help me look for her. If she's not here then you're probably right."

This time Atlas rolls his eyes, but rather than arguing he turns around to start looking for Nova. Not thinking that he would actually find her, he pushes open the tent that they use to discuss plans. His eyes immediately find the petite girl.

He sticks his head out of the tent, "Elara! I found her!" He yells for the brunette. Hearing his calls she quickly runs out of the dropship and to the tent. She rushes over to Nova and gently shakes her awake.

Atlas stands over her shoulder, watching the interaction. "Nov? Nova, wake up." Elara quietly says.

Nova finally wakes up groaning and raising her hand to the side of her head. "I'm going to kill Bellamy." She grunts out.

"What? What did he do?" Elara asks.

"He fucking knocked me out. What a piece of shit."

Nova pushes herself off the ground, almost making herself lose her balance. "Be careful! You might have a concussion!"

"I'll be fine once I kill him."

"Nova Marie Kane!" Elara scolds.

Nova looks at her shocked, "Did you just mom me?" Elara glares, "Sorry, not funny. But seriously I feel fine. Just incredibly pissed off. Can I please go find Bellamy so I can kill him now?"

Without waiting for a reply Nova pushes past Elara and Atlas. She walks outside the tent at the same time that Clarke and Finn enter the camp. "Did you guys see that? You know it's from the Ark, right? It has to be." Fox tells the two delinquents.

"Grab your stuff. Let's find out." Clarke replies.

"Bellamy said we're gonna wait until sunrise." Fox says.

"Where is he?" Clarke asks, starting to walk towards his tent.

"Don't bother. He already left. Let's go." Nova says. She angrily walks past delinquents, who are literally jumping out of her way. She exits the camp, Clarke and Finn on her heels.

"What do you mean? How do you know he already left?" Finn asks.

"Because the asshole knocked me out so I didn't leave. Whatever is in that pod he wants bad. And he has a head start."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Just as the sun begins to rise, the trio of delinquents arrive at the area where the pod landed. "Should we split up?" Clarke asks.

"Yeah. You go that way, Clarke." Finn says, gesturing to the left. "You can check that way." He gestures to the right.

Nova and Clarke nod, "Stay within yelling distance." Nova says, walking away from the other two.

After wandering aimlessly for a few minutes Nova turns around to head back the way she came. She makes it to the pod just in time to see a girl kissing Finn. "Well, that's one way to greet someone." Nova says.

Nova looks towards Clarke, seeing that Clarke looks rather annoyed. Her attention is brought back to Finn and the girl when Finn asks, "How did you get here?"

"You know that big scraphold? The one on K deck?" She answers.

"You built that from scrap?"

"I kind of rebuilt it." Finn laughs in response.

"You're insane." He says with a shake of his head.

"I'd do more for you and worse. Just like you would for me." She staggers into Finn's arms.

"Come on, sit down." Finn says. He leads her over to a rock and takes his jacket off to put around her.

Clarke and Nova finally walk over to the couple, "You need to put pressure on her wound." Clarke says, handing Finn an ice pack.

"Thanks," The girl says.

"This is Clarke and Nova. They were on the dropship too. This is Raven." Finn introduces.

"Clarke? This was all because of your mom."

"My mom?" Clarke asks, shock evident in her voice.

"This was all her plan. We were trying to come down here together. If we waited-" She cuts herself off, "Oh my God. We couldn't wait because the council was voting whether to kill three hundred people to save air."

"When?" Clarke asks in a panic.

"Today. We have to tell them you're alive." We all move back to the pod. Raven reaches inside, "The radio's gone." She says, moving back to face the other three.

"That jackass." Nova curses. She squeezes her hand into a fist and punches the pod. She hisses in pain as the sensitive skin on her knuckles comes into contact with the metal.

Clarke reaches over to Nova in concern but Nova pushes her away, "I'm fine. We have to head back. We need to find him."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Spotting Bellamy, Nova quickly runs over and punches the older boy across the face. She shoves him against a tree and pulls out her knife, holding it against his neck, "I should kill you." She hisses out, glaring.

Bellamy glares back but doesn't say anything, knowing that he deserves this. "Where the hell is it Bellamy?" Clarke asks from behind Nova.

"Where's what?" He questions, playing dumb.

"They're getting ready to kill three hundred people up there to save oxygen, and I can guarantee you it won't be council members. It'll be working people, your people."

"Where's the radio?" Finn asks.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Bellamy says once more.

"Stop playing dumb Blake." Nova says through clenched teeth.

"Blake? Bellamy Blake? They're looking everywhere for you." Raven says.

Nova turns her head to look at the girl but doesn't stop pressing her knife to his throat. "Why are they looking for him?" Clarke asks.

"Shut up." Bellamy grunts out.

"He shot Chancellor Jaha." Raven replies.

"That's why you took the wristbands. Needed everyone to think we're dead." Clarke says.

"All that whatever the hell we want? You just care about saving your own skin." Finn glares at Bellamy.

Nova scoffs and finally backs away, shaking her head. "Where the hell is the radio Bellamy?" She asks.

Bellamy rolls his eyes," Jaha deserved to die. You all know that."

"Yeah, he's not my favorite person either, but he isn't dead." Raven replies.

"What?"

"You're a lousy shot."

Clarke steps closer to Bellamy, "Bellamy, don't you see what this means? You're not a murderer. You always did what you had to do to protect your sister. That's who you are. And you can do it again by protecting three hundred of your people. Where's the radio?"

Bellamy hesitates, then sighs, "It's too late."

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

After regrouping at the camp and bringing more delinquents out to help look for the radio, the group stood in the river where Bellamy threw the radio.

Bellamy moves towards Elara, "It's going to take a long time for Nova to forgive me, isn't it?" He asks.

Elara looks at him, "Why does that matter to you?"

Bellamy shrugs, "I don't know. I guess it was kinda nice with her not hating me all the time. But I fucked up big time."

"Yeah, you did."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yes. But I don't hold grudges. I know you did it to protect Octavia."

Bellamy nods, "Hey! I found it!" Jones calls bringing Elara and Bellamy's attention away from each other.

They all run over, "Can you fix it?" Clarke asks Raven.

"Maybe, but it'll take half the day just to dry out the components to see what's broken." Raven answers.

"Like I said, it's too late." Bellamy replies.

Clarke marches up to Bellamy and shoves his chest, "Do you have any idea what you did? Do you even care?"

"You asked me to help. I helped."

"Is there any other way we can let them know that we're alive?" Nova asks, stopping any arguing.

"You mean without a radio?" Finn asks.

"Yeah, I have an idea." Raven replies, smiling brightly at Nova. "You're a genius."

Nova shrugs, "I've been called a lot of things but never a genius." She then flashes one of her rare smiles, "I like it."

Elara can't help the laugh that escapes her lips.

*_*_*_*_*_*

As night falls, the group of delinquents get ready to launch flares. The group quickly gets everything set up and lights the flares. The rockets blast off, the delinquents all looking up at them in awe.

Clarke, Bellamy, Elara, and Nova stand next to each other watching the rockets light up the sky. "You think they can see it from up there?" Bellamy asks the girls.

"I don't know. I hope so." Clarke replies.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough." Nova says.

"Can you wish on this kind of shooting star?" Clarke asks. The three others turn to give her questioning looks, "Forget it."

They turn their heads back to the flares, "I wouldn't even know what to wish for. What about you?" Bellamy questions.

"I would wish for my parents to be here with me." Elara says.

Nova hums, "I would want to go back in time."

"For what?" Bellamy asks.

"So that I never went to councilman Abraham's place."

"Didn't he die from a heart attack?" Elara asks.

"Nope. He's the guy I killed."

"Didn't you say he deserved it though? Why would you want to stop yourself from killing him?"

Nova shakes her head, "That’s not what I- Forget it. It’s not important.”

#The 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 rewrite

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windstormwielding · 3 years

Text

{ ooc } Can I just say “thank you guys” for all the positive feedback I got from you all on Yumiko there-? Because seeing some of you getting smitten with her so fast got me feeling all warm and fuzzy in my inside parts.

As thanks, how about a not so teensy bit of trivia behind my creation process for her? Because guess what I am not done rambling about Kōta’s feral but doting mom. Dropping it all under the cut for length!

Goroawase! The Japanese language has an entire pun system dedicated to matching certain numbers together to create phrases, and you can find them in everything from phone numbers and advertisements to dates on the calendar. For Yumiko’s birthday, June 26 was not chosen at random, because with a minor tweak, the date itself can be read as “rotenburo-no-hi.” Translation? Open-air bath day. What was her zanpakutō’s special ability again? Steam!

Yūgiri! The zanpakutō shares its name with a few Japanese warships down to the Kanji, but relevantly I named it after a Fire Emblem Fates character. Hailing from Hoshido, Reina is a Kinshi Knight who serves Queen Mikoto. She is a bloodthirsty warrior who’s eager to indulge in the morbid pleasures of the battlefield, but in sharp contrast to her sadistic side, she also happens to be quite the motherly sort towards her allies! Reina was her English-localized name, but in the original Japanese release? It’s Yūgiri.

Steam! Reading Yūgiri as “Evening Mist,” I figured it would be fun if Yumiko had a zanpakutō power that leaned on the meaning, so I went hard with the steam concept since I don’t think there’s a Bleach character that works with such a power to an explicit extent? As for her ultimate attack, Jyōki Bakusatsu (蒸汽爆炸), the Chinese characters are pulled from the mythical Steam Pokémon Volcanion’s signature move “Steam Eruption” – while it works serviceably enough as Kanji, turns out Pokémon moves tend to use Katakana more over Kanji or Hiragana for their naming, in this case reading as “Steam Burst.” Who knew! I wonder if her own Pokémon team would consist of Fire and Water types...

Sukeban! I’m quite fond of delinquent/boss girl-type characters and realized Bleach had a distinct lack of exactly that sort of archetype amidst its cast of badass ladies, and the only real “delinquent” presence in the series were all the nameless banchō bullies Ichigo put up with. From there, my brain turned to the 11th Division and its own distinct lack of ladies; aside from Yachiru Kusajishi who is too adorable for words, and Retsu/Yachiru Unohana as Division founder and first Kenpachi, it’s a bit of a sausage fest. Isn’t that the kind of squad where a delinquent girl would be a perfect fit though? So, looking at Kōtarō’s mom who raised him a dangerous place like Kusajishi and taught him how to fight with a sword, I thought “Hey, but what if...” until I settled on Yumiko’s physical appearance!

Bleach itself! Regardless of however one may feel about some elements of the novels, I just plain love world-building (because it’s not like we’ve got much else to gush or theorize about since the series proper ended). I welcome further attempts to bring in elements from anime filler and other media into the main canon with Kubo’s seal of approval, because god damn I love me some added cohesion towards a bigger and more developed world. I’ve actually got full-on written notes with my own ideas at doing the same; including the premise of the Sealed Sword Frenzy OVA (plus elements of Spirits Are Always With You) as part of Yumiko’s own backstory, and headcanoning the OVA’s villain Baishin as a former Captain and Kenpachi, is just the tippy top of the iceberg of expanded concepts I jotted down for my own personal pleasure and use!

Undertale! To add to the above, one of my big inspirations in creating her was Undyne the Undying, the boss fight from the game’s Genocide route, hence Yumiko’s character theme being “Battle Against a True Hero.” Just as the Determination-fuelled Undyne defied her own death to take on the murder-happy player character in order to protect the world, leading to the hardest boss battle in Undertale shy of Sans himself, I like to play out a similar battle in my head between Yumiko and Baishin after he turned into a crazed shinigami-zanpakutō fusion. She would’ve been 64th to his kill count of seated officers, but—at the cost of her own powers—she would be the one to succeed in pushing him back and forcing him to flee to the world of the living. Yumiko doesn’t just got it going on; she’s a genuine, fiercely determined badass, and a true hero... though she’s one of Kōta’s biggest heroes above all else. Sidenote, I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I listened to BAaTH on loop for the past week, from the original to remixes and covers with lyrics, just to get a proper feel for Yumiko’s past self-

Kōtarō himself! I wanted to expand his own backstory a bit and really build on the woman who raised him, but going full ham in drawing more parallels between him and Yumiko than I initially counted on was so much fun. Similar doting and goofy personas towards those they care about! Parallels in their zanpakutō elements! Her teaching him how to fight like she used to! Wholesomeness just warms my heart so friggin’ much.

#{ beyond the sky ☁ ooc ☁ }#{ i’m falling free in the wind ☁ headcanon ☁ }#{ cut for length }#{ ooc: for real though thank you all for loving Yumiko- }#{ so have a little extra Yumiko! as a treat-! }

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Sub Rosa [20]

vii. long into an abyss

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Reaper things, drug withdrawal (kind of?? the 100 style), violence, near death things, language, mentions of blood, choking.

Summary: Everything hinges on Lincoln’s recovery and survival, which seems less likely as time passes.

a/n: in case you didn’t see my post yesterday, I finished writing s3 and it is a looong one! but I’m really happy with it and so excited to eventually share it with you guys! until then, here is part TWENTY! and yes, the taglist for this series is open!! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You’re halfway between the Delinquent Camp and Camp Jaha when Bellamy glances over at you, looking around Lincoln’s head. “You need to go get Clarke. We’re gonna need her if we’re going to figure out how to save Lincoln. Octavia and I will get him to the dropship.”

“Okay.” You shrug out from underneath Lincoln and Octavia takes your place, ready to carry him home. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

You turn from the siblings and break into a run, heading straight for Camp Jaha. It isn’t long before you hear the sounds of the camp in the distance, and you slow to a walk, moving to walk parallel with the perimeter so you can sneak in the back way. You walk until you find the small break in the trees and then you duck through it and jog up the short path to the fence. You look around for a stick and toss it at the fence, relieved to find that it isn’t electrified, before ducking inside and creeping from behind the buildings.

When you step into the camp, everyone is gathered in the center of it, looking towards the doors of Alpha Station. There your mother stands, with Jaha at her side, both of them looking tense. Your brows furrow as you watch the former chancellor, sure that the last time you heard his name it was because they were telling you that he was dead. “I have faith. And right now, given the alternative, that's good enough for me.”

“Not for us.” You turn when you hear her voice, eyes quickly scanning the crowd to find your twin. You catch her when she steps forward, closer to Jaha and your mother, Finn right beside her. Her voice rises angrily, “If we leave here, what happens to our people in Mount Weather?”

Leave here? Jaha’s gaze locks on Clarke. “As your mother said, that is a very difficult decision to make. But the time has come for each and every one of us to ask, ‘Is this how the story of our people ends? Did we come all this way just to die tomorrow?’ Because if we're not gone by the time that sun rises, that is exactly what will happen.”

You shake your head in confusion, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. The crowd murmurs, in fear or anticipation you’re not sure, and you start to sneak towards your sister as your mom wraps up the meeting. “No decision has been made. In the meantime, please report to your station supervisor and gather emergency supplies.”

Everyone starts to turn away, and you use the chaos and movement to make the final steps towards Clarke, reaching out and grabbing her arm. She spins quickly, shock and relief crossing her features. “Where have you been?”

“You need to come with me right now.”

“Why? What's happened?”

You shake your head, “I'll explain on the way. Grab your med kit and meet me at Raven's gate.”

She nods once and you turn away, ducking from the crowd and dropping your head to avoid eye contact with anyone who may be watching. You stop by the supply room on your way to Raven’s gate, and slip inside unnoticed. You jog past the shelves of clothes and head straight for the rations, grabbing a few extra and stuffing them in your pack. You make a u-turn and head towards the locked up weapons, reaching out to grab the lock and inspect it. You smirk when you see it, easily breakable, and turn back to the shelves of supplies to find something to put pressure on the mechanism with. As you’re searching, you hear the door slide open behind you, and you duck down, peering between the shelves to see who it is.

Your stomach flips when your eyes land on Shumway, who is heading over to the locked up weapons, keys jingling in his hand. You take a step back and duck down further, dropping from his view, but as your foot moves, you lightly bump the shelf beside you, rattling a can above your head. Shumway spins around, eyes landing right above you, and you hold your breath, praying he doesn’t spot you. His brows pull together and he pulls out his pistol as he starts to walk towards you, searching. You pull out your knife, your gun tucked away inside your backpack and push yourself backwards, into the shadows, until your back touches the wall. Shumway draws closer and closer, and you know it’s only a matter of seconds before he walks around the last shelf and comes face to face with you, clutching a knife and backed into a corner. Just as his boot crosses the line of the shelf, the door to the room slides open, and another guard steps inside.

Shumway spins towards him, gun raised, and the guard lifts his arms in surrender. When Shumway recognizes him, he lowers his gun. “What are you doing man? Help me get these guns ready for evac.”

“I thought I heard something. Someone.” Shumway tosses one last look in your direction before heading over to the guard and unlocking the cabinet, emptying all the weapons and ammo and loading them into bags. They each grab a few bags and Shumway starts to step towards the door when he stops and drops them. “I’m gonna find one more guy to help us carry these. Stay right here.”

The guard nods and drops his bags too, turning to lean against the wall and wait for the man’s return. Your eyes start scanning the room frantically, looking for a way out, before they land on a small window at the back of the room, blown out from the crash landing and open to the outside world. You creep towards it, your gaze jumping from the guard to the window as you maneuver your way closer to freedom. When you reach the back wall, you pull off your pack and toss it through, dropping to the floor as it hits the ground on the other side. The guard spins at the sound and looks around for a second, before turning back and leaning against the wall again.

You stand and jump up quickly, and hoist yourself through the window before dropping to the ground on the other side. You hear yelling from somewhere behind you as you reach down and snag up your bag before breaking into a run and heading towards Raven’s Gate. You come around the corner and find your sister already there and waiting for you. “Where have you-”

You cut her off and grab her hand, tugging her behind you until you reach the fence, quickly ducking through. Clarke is barely through it when you hear the fence start to hum with electricity again, and you turn to her in surprise. She grabs you and starts to lead you into the treeline, out of sight. “They’re probably checking over everything because of the threat.”

“Threat? What threat?”

She drops your hand when you reach the treeline and steps back to let you take the lead as she explains. “The Commander sent Jaha back to camp with a message: leave or be killed.”

“I thought Jaha was dead?”

“So did we.”

You turn to look at her, face serious. “Clarke, we can’t leave. The 47-”

“I know. I already told them that. For now, mom is on our side and doesn’t want to go, but I’m sure it won’t be long until she takes Jaha’s side.” Her eyes scan the area around you, lighting up with recognition. “Are we going back to the dropship?”

“Yes.” You step over a fallen log, and turn to make sure she makes it over too. “We found Lincoln. But he’s...not himself.”

“What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath and watch her from the corner of your eye. “He’s a Reaper.”

“A Reaper?” You nod. “How?”

“We don’t know.”

The trees open up to a clearing, revealing the fallen perimeter of your former home. Clarke doesn’t ask anything else, and allows you to lead her to the dropship. You ascend the ladder first, Clarke hot on your heels, and as soon as Lincoln spots you he lunges towards you, screaming with rage. You and Clarke jump in surprise, and Bellamy steps towards you both, offering some comfort. “It's okay, it's okay. He's been restrained.”

You both watch as he strains and pulls against his restraints, reminding you of when Bellamy tortured him. Octavia is on the ground near your feet, hunched over and exhausted. She lifts her head to meet Clarke’s eyes. “Can you help him?”

“I don't know.” She steps towards him, slow and tentative, eyes never leaving the struggling man. “I knew Mount Weather controlled the Reapers. I had no idea they were creating them.”

Bellamy shifts closer to you, voice low. “If they can do that to Lincoln, what're they doing to our friends?”

Your stomach drops, thinking of the 47 being beaten, tortured, and drained for blood. You work to swallow a wave of nausea, as Clarke mutters, “I need more light.”

You, Bellamy, and Octavia all grab your flashlights and shine them towards Lincoln, hoping that it’s enough. Your flashlight passes over his leg, his wound still bleeding, and Clarke turns to face you. “What happened to his leg?”

You watch Ocatvia’s face fall, then harden, as she avoids everyone’s eyes. “I shot him.”

“Clarke, he's lost a lot of blood.” Bellamy’s voice pulls her gaze away from his younger sister, and back to Lincoln. Her gaze rakes over him quickly, but you see her squint as she tries to get a closer look at something. “Can you shine the light on his neck?”

Clarke steps closer as Octavia lifts the light to Lincoln’s neck, and he turns away from the bright beam. “Needle marks.”

You step closer to her, confused. “You think he's being drugged?”

“Maybe.”

As soon as the word leaves her mouth, Lincoln pulls one of the chains keeping his arm restrained free. It hits Clarke as he grabs her and pulls her closer, trying to rip out her throat with his teeth. You jump into action and run towards them, only to be flung to the side and into the wall. Octavia suffers a similar fate before Bellamy runs forward, hitting Lincoln’s arm until he drops your twin on the ground. Lincoln rears his head back and collides it with Bellamy’s, sending him backwards while he shrugs himself free of the other arm restraint. You all scramble backwards as Lincoln lunges towards you, managing to stay just out of reach. Bellamy rolls and grabs the shock baton, jumping to his feet and running towards the possessed Reaper. Lincoln pulls one of his legs free just as Bellamy reaches him, deflecting the shock baton and tossing Bellamy to the ground. You watch as Lincoln delivers blow after blow to Bellamy’s face, blood blooming and spreading beneath his fists.

You jump up and run to them, screaming out in rage as you reach Lincoln and kick him in the side. He turns towards you and smacks you across the face so hard your neck cracks, and you hit the floor. You taste blood rolling over your tongue as Clarke runs over in your defense, only to catch a fist to the stomach that sends her flying. You roll closer and kick out at Lincoln, trying to keep him away from Bellamy, who you hear calling out your name in protest. Lincoln grabs your legs and pulls you closer, hitting you in the face a few times before his hands close around your throat and cut off your airway.

You hear Bellamy yelling in fear and anger as he lunges towards Lincoln, but he is knocked to the side easily by the Grounder. You feel your fingers reach into your pocket and pull out your knife, fingers closing tight around the handle as black spots dance in your vision. You plunge the knife into his side, but he doesn’t even flinch. Your lungs scream for oxygen as darkness starts to edge out your vision. And just before you think it’s over, Lincoln’s head snaps up and to the side as Octavia hits him twice with a large metal bar.

You take in a large gasp of air, nearly dizzy from the sudden influx of oxygen, as Bellamy staggers to his feet and stumbles over to you. He drops to his knees at your side, taking your face in his hands as he whispers, “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you think about your closeness to death (again), and he leans down and kisses you, thankful that you cheated death once more. He pulls away and looks at you for a long second, affection and worry written all over his face. You smile at him, trying to reassure him, as you hear Clarke drop down beside you. Bellamy leans back as she reaches forward, her fingers gently tugging your collar down to look at your neck. She presses the skin around the already darkening bruises, and you wince. Her hands lift and skim over the cuts on your face, checking their depth before she meets your eyes. “You’re gonna be okay. Just some bruises and shallow cuts.”

They help you up and you turn to Octavia and reach for her, pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy for you.” She sniffles and nods into your hair, and you pull away and give her a serious look. “We’re gonna get him back. I promise.”

She nods again, and you both turn to look at Clarke and Bellamy. “We should get him tied up before he wakes up again.”

Everyone agrees and you all tear apart the dropship looking for things to restrain him with. Minutes later he is held back once again, this time with a series of ropes, cables, ties, and a net, all securely held into place at multiple anchor points. You all gather around him and Clarke begins to look him over again. “We have to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out, and patch up the knife wound. Hold his leg down.”

You and Bellamy move to his leg and pin it down. At the same time, Octavia tries to help Lincoln drink water, but he screams and spits it out, wasting what little water she had left. She closes the lid on the canteen and stands with a determined look. “That’s okay, I’ll get some more.”

She leaves the dropship and you all watch her go before Clarke turns her sights back on Lincoln’s gunshot wound. She digs around in her kit until she finds a surgical clamp, which she uses to dig the bullet out of his leg. Lincoln screams out in rage and pain and attempts to fight you off, but you and Bellamy bear down on him, keeping him in place. He only fights for a second longer before passing out from the pain, making the removal process easier for all of you. Once she has the bullet removed she cleans and stitches the wound before turning her sights on the next one.

She looks at the knife in his side before pulling it out and passing it to you. You wipe the blade off on your pants before tucking it back into your pocket. Clarke uses Lincoln’s unconscious state in her favor and cleans and stitches him quickly before he wakes up again. You whisper to her, “Mom would be proud.”

As she finishes she looks over at you, voice quiet. “Mom would know how to save him.”

She turns towards her kit and starts to drop her supplies inside, and you and Bellamy lean back from Lincoln and watch her. To the right of you, the hatch swings open and Octavia steps into view, followed by another person. The Grounder from the village, Nyko. You scramble to your feet in shock and Bellamy makes a mad dash for his gun, while reaching out to pull you behind him as he lifts the rifle to his shoulder.

Octavia steps in front of Nyko, face etched in panic. “Bellamy, don't! He's Lincoln's friend and their healer.”

Below you, Lincoln starts to grunt and shake, and Clarke leans over him, voice high with panic. “He's seizing again!”

The room is held frozen by a moment of tense silence, until Bellamy lowers his gun slightly and nods towards Lincoln, giving the healer permission to help him. Nyko pulls out a satchel and unrolls it, revealing a collection of vials, all full of different colored liquids. He scans them before picking up one with clear liquid inside and uncorking it.

“What is that?”

He ignores Clarke’s question and leans over Lincoln, whispering, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

You glance over at Bellamy, who is still tensed up, and then at Clarke, whose gaze is bouncing between the vial, Nyko, and Lincoln. As he tips the vial and a drop starts to fall out, realization hits her and she sticks out her hand, catching the droplet. “Wait!”

Nyko pulls out a knife and Bellamy lifts his rifle again and aims it at the man. “Back off! Right now!”

You see Clarke’s mind spinning as she repeats the Grounder phrase. “Yu gonplei ste odon. It's what they say before death.” She turns to look at Octavia. “He's not trying to heal him, he's trying to kill him.”

Octavia turns and glares at Nyko. “Is it true?”

“Yes. Death is the only way.”

“Hold on. There could be a way to bring him back.”

He looks at her, and drops the knife. “None that I've ever seen.”

No one has a chance to answer before the dropship is thrust into chaos again. Finn’s head pops into the room, and you hear him say something about needing to leave before Nyko jumps up, full of rage. “You!”

He runs at Finn and grabs him, yelling at him in his native tongue. He slams Finn into the wall as Bellamy turns his gun on the Grounder once more. “Get off him!”

Nyko ignores him, hands shaking with anger as he pins Finn to the wall. “You slaughtered my people. Elders. Children. Innocents.”

His hands close around Finn’s neck, squeezing tightly, and you see the color drain from Finn’s face. “Nyko, you're killing him!”

“Blood must have blood!”

Clarke is frozen, eyes locked on Finn as the life drains from his body, and the Blake siblings scream back and forth about whether to shoot Nyko. You watch everything in a frozen panic before remembering the baton. You run to the other side of the room and grab it, lighting it up on your way over and pressing it to Nyko’s back. He screams out in pain and instantly drops Finn, and you see Clarke run towards him to check on him. You turn off the baton and your gaze locks with Bellamy’s. Octavia’s voice breaks the silence of the room when she yells, “Lincoln! He's not breathing!”

Clarke runs from Finn to Lincoln, checking for a pulse. “His heart's stopped. Move!”

She starts performing CPR, and Octavia watches on in horror. You and Bellamy stand over Nyko, his gun still lifted and your baton still in hand as you watch Clarke bring Lincoln back from the dead. He takes in a deep breath of air, gasping, and Nyko shifts beside you. You turn, ready to stop him again, but he stares at Clarke in fascination. “He was dead. How did you do that?”

Clarke turns towards him. “You've tried bringing Reapers back before?”

He nods and she asks, “And they died like this?”

You see her brain working again, and you meet her gaze. “What is it?”

“I know how to stop the attack.” She stands and turns to you. “I need you to come with me. We’ll need a united front to convince mom.”

You nod, agreeing, as she turns to the others. “Keep an eye on Lincoln and Nyko. We’ll be back soon.”

“What about Finn?”

She turns to look at Nyko, and then over at Bellamy. “I’ll take him with us, just in case.”

She steps away and heads down the ladder, and you move to the other side of the room and grab your pack. Bellamy steps up behind you and you pull the extra rations out, passing them to him. “You should eat. All of you. And you should get some rest. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

He takes the rations and sets them aside, before turning back to you and giving you a serious look. “Be careful.”

“I will.” He pulls your collar aside and takes a peek at your bruises, before his eyes meet yours again. “I mean it.”

You stand on your tippy toes and give him a quick kiss. “We’ll be right back, I promise.”

You smile and then turn away, lowering yourself down the ladder and onto the floor. Clarke and Finn turn and step away from each other, and you can tell from the tension in the air that they were having a serious conversation. You look between the two, and start to head towards the door. “Come on, we have to hurry.”

They follow you out into the cool night air, the moon beaming down and cutting through the trees. Finn jogs ahead and leads your trio, leaving you and Clarke to walk side by side. You glance at her, searching her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Things are just...off between us right now.”

You reach out and grab her hand, squeezing in comfort, letting her know that you understand. She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, before turning on you and twisting her mouth into a smirk.

“So you and Bellamy?” You blush and turn away. “I had my suspicions, but I thought he wasn’t your type.”

You bump her shoulder with yours, “Shut up.”

You both laugh, but she squeezes your hand. “I’m happy for you. You guys are good for each other.”

You give her a soft smile, thinking of what Octavia said to you a few days ago. “That seems to be the general consensus.”

She’s about to ask something when Finn turns back to you both and whispers, “Shh.”

He stops and listens for a minute, and you and Clarke follow suit, but you don’t hear anything other than the owls in the trees and the scurrying of animals through the bushes. A look of fear passes over Finn’s face before he grabs you and Clarke and mutters, “Run!”

You all break into a sprint, tearing through the trees, following Finn as he guides you through the darkness and towards safety. You don’t stop running until you reach the gate, and the guards open it and let you all inside. Your mom and Jaha are standing nearby talking, and Clarke calls out to them. “Mom!”

She runs towards you, looking angry until her eyes land on your face, adorned with fresh cuts, and her expression softens a little. “Where have you been? We're leaving.”

“I know how to stop the attack.”

Jaha spins towards Clarke, “What're you talking about?”

“We haven't been able to negotiate with the Grounders because we haven't had anything to offer them. The biggest threat they face is from the Reapers.”

You piggyback off your twin’s statement, “The Reapers are being drugged by the Mountain Men. Created by them. We think we may be able to eliminate that threat for them once and for all.”

Your mom is silent, considering both of your words before she asks, “How?”

“Abby.” Jaha’s voice is stern, a glare plastered on his face, directed between the three of you. “You can't seriously-”

He cuts himself off when the camp falls silent, his gaze locking on something out beyond the walls, you turn to follow his gaze, watching as four torches of fire glow in the distance. And then the four turn into eight, and then 16, 32, multiplying until there is a wall of fire right outside your walls. Your mom turns and looks at all of you. “Inside. Now.”

You follow her into the council room, grabbing Byrne and Sergeant Miller on the way, and you all stand around the table, staring at each other, considering the options. You’re the first to break the silence, “They're not attacking yet, which means we still have time.”

Your mother turns towards you, shaking her head. “We have two hours until dawn.”

“Let me talk to the Commander.” Clarke steps up from beside you, locking eyes with your mom. “She was Anya's Second. Maybe she'll listen.”

Jaha throws up his hands in frustration. “We don't even know if the Commander is here.”

“Yes, we do. Nyko told us.” All eyes turn to Finn as he comes in defense of Clarke. “You have to at least let her try.”

“Abby, we're wasting time. Give me the authority now.”

You turn a disgusted look towards the former chancellor, instantly put off by his tone. Your mom seems to feel the same way, because she cuts in, “Hold on. You said that Lincoln is going through withdrawal.” She hesitates, considering every angle. “We don't even know what he's withdrawing from. The detox alone could kill him.”

“That's where you come in.”

She looks at you, expression neutral. “And if I can't save him?”

“That's not an option.”

Her gaze locks with yours, reading your expression, running through the possibilities. She does the same with Clarke, noting your conviction, your desire to fix this now and save everyone. Jaha seems to get tired of this and grows incredulous. “We are risking everything on a bluff? Abby, we have an out. We have a way to save the lives of our people.”

You spin towards him, voice hard. “Not all of them.”

He jumps to his feet and slams his hand on the table. “We will come back to save the kids inside Mount Weather!”

“We all know that's not going to happen!” You feel Finn and Clarke step towards you, agreeing, joining in your defense. Jaha steps towards your mother and stops right beside her. “Abby. This has gone on long enough. If you do not give the order to begin the exodus, you are killing us all.”

“I'm sorry.” She pauses, leaving a moment for you to all wonder who the apology is for, until she turns to Jaha. “I can't give that order.”

He closes the space between them, dropping his head to speak directly into her ear. “Abby. Give the order.”

“No.”

His eyes grow wide and his energy grows more erratic as he glares at your mom. “I...am the elected Chancellor of the Ark. And I am not going to let you risk the lives of more people; do you understand? I'm going to ask you once again: give the order to begin the exodus.”

“No. Are you through yet?”

You watch as he starts to shake slightly with anger, and you reach your hand into your pocket, closing it around your knife, genuinely convinced he’s about to attack your mother and everyone else in this room. But then he seems to remember the audience, because his gaze shifts over to the rest of you. You can see him visibly trying to calm himself down as he steps away and walks over to Byrne.

“Sergeant Miller. Major Byrne. I am relieving Doctor Griffin of her command. Place these four into custody, but make sure they are ready to leave with the rest of us within the hour.”

Byrne and Miller stand completely still, unmoving. And Jaha’s voice rises in anger. “Right now, Major! Or the blood of everyone in this camp will be on your hands, too.”

Still, she doesn’t move. And despite your annoyance at her continuous spying, you commend her loyalty, because she doesn’t move until your mom opens her mouth. “Major Byrne, Sergeant Miller. Put Chancellor Jaha in the stockade.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

They reach for him, but he shakes out of their grasp and spins around in anger, looking at the woman who dares to defy him. “Everything we did to survive…” He trails off, looking over at you, Clarke, and Finn. “You're just throwing it all away. Why?”

“Because I have faith, too.” Her gaze shifts over to you and Clarke, standing side by side, her shining star and her little la lune. “In my daughters.”

You feel a rush of affection for her, unfamiliar, a foreign idea clouded by the strain in your relationship. Clarke is the first to step forward and address her. “Thank you.”

“I'll send the guard detail with you.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “They'll see it as a threat. I have to do this on my own.”

You step towards your mother, “I’ll take you to Lincoln.”

She nods, and you squeeze Clarke’s hand as you pass. “See you soon.”

Your mom and twin share a hug before she turns towards you again, now ready to follow your lead.

The run back to the dropship is taken in complete silence, too much stress, fear, and anxiety on your minds to hold a conversation with each other. You make it back to the camp as the sun is rising into the sky, signaling the end of the timeline given to your people by the commander. You can do nothing but hope that Clarke is granted an audience and buys you enough time.

You step up into the dropship first, and Octavia sighs with relief as soon as she sees you. “Oh, thank god. Where's Clarke?”

“Trying to stop a war.”

Your mom immediately steps around you and heads for Lincoln, slipping into doctor mode as soon as she sees the state he’s in. “Pupils are unresponsive.” You catch Bellamy and Octavia sharing a concerned look before your mom hands rubber tubing to the younger Blake. “Tie off his arm. Tight as you can.”

She does as she’s told while your mom digs through her bag and tries to offer her some comfort. “Thanks to the supplies your brother found, he might have a chance.”

“What's that?”

“This will bring down his fever.” As soon as she starts to enter the needle into his arm, Lincoln gains consciousness and pushes her away. Your mom turns to you and Bellamy. “Hold him down!”

You both run over and restrain him, just as convulsions start to rock his body. They only last for a second before he grows still again. Your mom checks his pulse, and her voice is full of alarm when she says, “His heart's stopped.”

She directs Nyko on how to assist her during CPR, as she pushes down on his chest and attempts to restart his heart. There is nothing the rest of you can do other than watch on in terror as your last hope for a peace treaty with the Grounders dies with Lincoln.

You don’t know how long has passed before your mother stops, leaning back and looking down at Lincoln in pure defeat. Octavia glares at her, “You're stopping. What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Mom…” You trail off, unsure what to say, keep going, you can save him, they’ll kill us all for this, but she just gives you a sad look. “He's gone.”

Octavia pushes her aside, taking over. “No, it's not possible. You're wrong!”

You and Bellamy kneel beside her as she sobs and pushes on his chest, desperate to get him breathing again. You hear the hatch open as Octavia stops, a broken sob pushing past her lips. You make eye contact with Clarke as she steps inside, and you see her gaze drop down to Lincoln’s still body before meeting your eyes again. You can see the silent question there and you shake your head. A second person steps into the dropship, a girl with long dark hair and war paint smeared over her eyes. She exudes power and authority, and you’re almost positive that you’re looking at the Commander.

Her eyes are on the unmoving Lincoln, and you can see her rage grow as others step into the dropship to join you. You turn towards Bellamy, touching his hand, and his eyes shift towards you. You glance at his rifle and he reaches for it, and you turn to look around you for a weapon, stomach dropping when you find none. One of the Grounders looks at your group, and then at the commander. On her signal, she snarls, “Kill them all!”

Everyone in the room jumps into action. The Grounders all pull out their swords, Bellamy lifts his rifle, and your mother grabs the baton from the floor near your feet. You grab your knife from your pocket and wrap your other arm around Octavia, as she remains unmoving, still mourning the loss of Lincoln. Clarke looks at the commander, voice shaking in fear. “Please. You don't have to do this.”

“You lied, and you're out of time.”

Before anything else can happen, your mother drops to the ground beside Licnoln and activates the shock baton, pressing it to his chest. His body jumps and lifts from the power, before dropping back to the ground, still unmoving. Your eyes never leave his body as you mutter, “Hit him again.”

She complies, and this time the electricity jump starts his heart. Lincoln pulls in a deep gasp of air, and Octavia tugs herself out of your arms and into his line of sight. “Lincoln.”

He looks at her for a second, and then whispers, “Octavia.”

She sighs in relief and you turn to Bellamy, both of you looking at each other in shock as the tension from the last few minutes starts to melt away. You can hear the Grounders sheathing their swords, taking you out of danger for the time being. Bellamy smiles and you let out a quiet laugh of relief, before reaching for Octavia and squeezing her hand, celebrating the return of Lincoln and your hope for peace.

For now.

next chapter

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy blake #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction

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hournites · 4 years

Text

Blackouts (2/2)

part one

~.~

“You two made a bomb?”

Beth sat with Rick on the wooden bench of disciplinary torture. It was stiff and uncomfortable—worse, it smelt like sweat and fear. She had to squash down an anxiously clawing urge to tap her foot against the floor like Rick, a habit that used to annoy her. A habit she doesn’t even have.

Beth has never been in trouble at school. Ever.

Not one detention or demerit point or strict scolding by any teacher or playground monitor since Kindergarten. Beth never had to sit on this bench. Never been in the principal’s office for any other reason than collecting a plaque or certificate of achievement. Never felt this slimy guilt-ball of awful. It’s only been forty-five minutes, but sitting here in shame as their peers passed by through the big window of the office in front of Principal Bowin and Pat and the nice secretaries that worked here and God was punishment enough. She felt like a terrible human being. A liar. A cheater. A scoundrel.

Principal Bowin crossed her arms in her matching dark green skirt and jacket suit, far too displeased for a woman who spends her weekends hypnotizing innocent people to death with her husband’s fiddle.

“Not to harm anyone! This is bullshit!”

Beth held her tongue, but she had to give it to Rick. This sucked.

Why did Mr. Hyacinth have to correct his prescription glasses? He never bothered to notice their experiments in Chemistry class before! And Rick couldn’t get in his bad graces, he needed to do well in chemistry to figure out more of his father’s equations and codes. He was doing well in the course, Beth thinks he might have a shot at the regional science competition that she's pushing him to enter. A win there would look amazing on college applications and Rick was super good at it! He couldn’t afford another black mark on his student record, not now.

“I’m sure you know this act of delinquency is a serious offence,” Principal Bowin continued. “Explosives are weapons and they—”

“—A stink bomb is hardly an explosive—”

“—In fact, I ought to bring in the county sheriff—”

“Pat!” Rick cried. “She’s blowing things all out of proportion—”

“Bad word choice, Rick,” Beth muttered under her breath. He groaned and tried to think of something else to say, but under Principal Bowin and Mr. Dugan’s judgmental glares, he thought better of it and slumped back against his seat. Beth stared down at her shoes. She could never bring her parents to another parent-teacher assembly ever again. They were going to be so disappointed.

“How could it be a stink bomb? There was no foul smell in the report sent by their teacher.”

“Because we never set it off!” Rick snapped, lying to save their butts, and rather convincingly too. “We weren’t trying to hurt anyone.” Which was true. “We finished the assignment early and we got bored. I mean, this was just a prank that I made Beth help me with—”

Beth glanced up at the two adults, knowing if Rick continued the way he was, he’d only screw himself over.

“Mr. Dugan, this was all my fault. Rick had nothing to do with it!”

“Save your breath, Beth.”

He turned to The Fiddler. “May I have a word with these two? Alone?”

She let out a huff. “You have five minutes. When I return, we will discuss repercussions.”

The door shut firmly behind her, and they all waited for the click-clacks of her high heel shoes down the hallway before they all started talking at once.

Pat put his hands on his knees to stare at them at eye level. A truly incredible guilt-tripping tactic.

“— Bombs? At school?? Are you out of your minds?”

“For the last time, they’re not explosives. It’s just—”

“It’s for JSA!” Beth blurted out.

“Yeah, look sorry I’m not sorry, Pat. They’re important and we need them.”

“Explain. Now.” Pat never looked so mad. Not at Beth. She squirmed in her seat but Rick barely looked affected, if only the least bit remorseful. She didn’t know how he could sit so still in the face of a disappointed father figure.

Oh. Beth mentally cringed when she remembered why that was. Right.

Rick glanced sideways at her. Beth let out a sigh and reached into her backpack’s front pocket to pull out the blackout bombs. They had figured out how to make them compact last week. They looked like the fancy things her mom would put in her bath when she wanted to relax. Or charcoal gumballs from a retro candy machine.

“Rick and I came up with these so that I could throw them at ISA as a diversion when I need to run.”

Pat took one, bringing it up to his eye. “What does it do?”

Rick and Beth went quiet.

“Guys.”

Beth bit her lip. “We call them blackouts. When they hit the ground they mask the area with a thick black impenetrable smoke that makes it hard to see.”

“Yeah,” Rick chimed in. “So that Beth can use Chuck’s night vision to safely get away or blind opponents so she could have that upper hand.”

“It’s not lethal? Toxic?”

She shrugged. “Not so far as we could tell, no. We never got sick and we've been carrying samples of them for weeks.”

His eyes bugged out. "Weeks?!"

Rick stifled a laugh.

Pat stared at them, slack-jawed. “ How did you come up with this?”

It was Rick's turn to shrug. “It’s just simple potassium nitrate.” He scratched his head. “And some other stuff. Beth made an Excel spreadsheet.”

“Don’t you potassium nitrate me, Rick Tyler. This is dangerous. And irresponsible. And frankly Beth, I’m shocked you went along with this for so long. At school? During class?”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Dugan.”

“Yeah,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry that you got caught.”

Beth’s face fell. “Are we getting suspended?” She hated the way her voice cracked. She hated the way Rick’s arm immediately went around her too. It was nice but she didn’t want him feeling bad for her because she couldn’t take a simple scolding. Ugh, she was so sensitive.

Pat confiscated all of the bombs. “I don’t know. I hope not, because you’ve never been in trouble, Beth. I’d hate for that to change now.” He looked at Rick. “But you. That’s a whole other story.”

“We didn’t do anything that warrants more than detention.”

"You're very lucky your mother and father aren't here, Beth. I don't know what they'd say about this." Pat began to pace, ignoring Rick’s excuses. “And since when and why did I become your emergency contact, anyway?”

Rick pulled a face. “What do you think?”

Beth’s hand found its way to his knee. Rick’s jaw tensed, but he sucked in a breath before looking away.

“...Right,” Pat said with a sigh. “Your uncle.”

The room went silent.

“Okay, well I’m glad you trust me with your screw-ups. Because that’s what this is. A big screw up, you hear me? You’re not doing these kinds of reckless experiments again.”

“Yeah,” Rick replied, crossing his arms and staring up at the ceiling. “We get it.”

“Rick, I don’t think you—”

Beth stood up from the bench of shame. “Don’t be so hard on him.” She wrung her hands, and her heart leapt out of her chest. She was really terribly bad at confrontation. Especially to adults. Super especially to nice adults she trusted and had let down. But she needed to defend Rick, he got enough to deal with already. She wasn’t about to let him lose Pat’s respect. Not because of her.

“I knew it was a dumb idea to do in school, but he only did it because he wanted to protect me.” She refused to look back and see Rick’s face, but Pat’s own went soft. “And Rick is really good at chemistry. Don’t take this away from him, Mr. Dugan.” Her eyes began to well up with inexplicable tears. This was really dumb. Beth needed to get a grip. “Please.”

Two hands were suddenly on her shoulders. Rick. He squeezed, rubbing with his thumb. “Beth,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this. It was my dumb idea. You knew that. I don’t really care for school anyway, to hell if I get suspended or Mr. Hyacinth returns to thinking I’m trash. Whatever.”

Beth frowned. “You’re lying.” She turned around and his arms dropped to his sides. His eyebrows pulled together as he stared at her, unable to read her sincerity. “You do care. I know you do. Stop taking the blame for me on the stupid stuff we both do. If we’re going down...We’re going down together.”

Something warm and wonderful seeped into Rick’s eyes. His hand flexed and Beth used her courage to take it again, tangling their fingers together like the first time they first started making the blackouts. “Beth.”

“I care about you, Rick,” she admitted, feeling her face heat up. It wasn’t like she was confessing an undying love for him or anything, of course, she cared, he had to know. “I’m in your corner. Always.”

Rick stared at her some more, unsure what to say. Slowly, he raised their joined hands and brushed his lips over Beth’s hand. Her stomach dropped like that one unforgettable time she rode the Dive Bomber at Omaha’s Six Flags. But this time she didn’t want to throw up. At all. This rush was thrilling. Beth could feel Rick’s kiss tingle down to her toes.

Mr. Dugan cleared his throat and the two tore their gazes away from each other, Beth slowly turning back to face him. He gave the teens a long look.

“Fine. Here’s the deal. Experimental weapon building only happens at the garage under my constant supervision. No ifs or buts.”

Beth stuck out her hand. “Deal!” She turned around to look at Rick. "It's a good compromise!"

“Your garage doesn’t have any of the chemicals we need.”

“Then I’ll order some,” he retorted. “Need I remind you that the school principal is a part of the ISA?”

“Yeah.” Rick’s stubbornness on the subject seemed to have deflated in its entirety. Beth held in her smile when Pat gave her a knowing look because they both knew why.

Principal Bowin returned, looking very annoyed. “Apparently, the school board has plans to use Beth Chapel for televised school advertisements and have no desire to hear my complaints about the matter as there’s no proof. They won’t even let me call her parents about it.”

Beth let out the biggest sigh of relief.

“So she’s free to go.”

Mr. Dugan smiled.

“Rick Harris, however—”

Beth took a step forward and raised her head high. “I won’t do any commercials if Rick isn’t excused. That’s not fair. We weren’t making any bombs, Principal Bowin. The beaker exploded. We were in the lab. It happens.”

Mr. Dugan wrapped his arms around both kids. “They’re good kids. If Rick needs some type of community service, he can work at my garage.”

Rick looked at him. “Really?”

“Really?” Beth echoed.

“Yes. Starting Monday.” He ushered them out of the office while they still could. “I’m sure that would suffice, Principal Bowin?”

“But—”

“Need I point out that I am clearly not this man’s father? You do know who his father is, right Ma’am? Matthew Harris? The man Rick had tried to file student reports about for the last several years for neglect and abuse? Reports your administration did nothing about?”

Principal Bowin paled. “Uh.”

“Thought so. Have a nice day.”

He saluted, shepherding them out.

Beth turned to Mr. Dugan as they went outside, still holding Rick’s hand. “Mr. Dugan that was awesome!”

“You gotta start calling me Pat, Beth.”

“She’s not ever calling you Pat,” Rick teased with a smile of his own and squeezed her hand before he let go. Beth watched fondly as Rick tentatively, awkwardly, hugged Mr. Dugan in front of the flagpole. “But she’s right. It kinda was.”

Her heart flipped as it always did when Rick opened up his feelings to other people. She cares for him so much. More than anyone. More than her parents. It was crazy how much. It was almost like...She thought about the way he kissed her hand, eyes piercing into hers in The Fiddler's office and felt giddy all over again like—

Time stopped. Beth's feet stopped working as she realized something important about what she felt for Rick.

Oh.

#hournite #rick tyler #beth chapel #pat dugan #amaya bowin #hournites fic #blackouts #chapter 2 #completed #fluff #pat be like: did i just witness a reenactment of pride and prejudice??

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heysoup · 3 years

Text

Fluffy February Day 2 - Movie Night

Reminder to follow @fluffyfebruary to see the prompt list and that I’ll be using the tags #fluffyfebruary and #fluffyfeb for these.

Continuing the fics with day two! I’m super proud of this one; It’s dripping with fluff and teenage angst. Warning for potential secondhand embarrassment - they’re both idiots in love and have no idea how to show it.

Chapter 2: Films and Fears

Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: Dealing with life in the vault can be tough, especially for an outcast like Jamie. When he befriends Butch through his G.O.A.T. assignment, however, the two make their own safe place. Butch decides to surprise him there one day with the promise of treasure, and it leads to something more than they both expect.

Ao3 Link

Jamie tosses and turns in his rat’s nest of a bed. It’s midnight – he’s too hot, the vault’s ventilation system’s groaning is echoing around him like a damn chorus, and his sheets keep scratching uncomfortably against his clammy skin. He brings his wrist close to his face to mindlessly check his Pip-Boy for the millionth time that night, his arm feeling as heavy as lead, and he squints at the fluorescent light of the screen as he taps it awake.

Though Butch showed him a few times before, it still takes him a moment to remember the right sequence of buttons to push to unlock developer’s mode and navigate to the messaging tab the other boy set up for them. It’s only been about a month since Butch found an old Pip-Boy manual in Stanley’s locker and got this trick to work, but already there’s a considerable backlog of messages between the two.

Jamie scrolls through them with the dial on his Pip-Boy, worrying the skin of his lower lip with his teeth as he reads through some of the older messages. It’s become a new habit for him on these particularly rough sleepless nights. When he’s too exhausted to write in his journal, draw, or jump around his room in an attempt to tire himself out; he talks to Butch.

If someone had told him a year ago that Butch DeLoria, his childhood bully and teenage rival, would be one of his only sources of solace these days he would have called them insane. Turns out, giving the vault’s two delinquents deadbeat jobs with no supervision and shoving them in the same closet of a studio space could make them form a pretty strange alliance. The enemy of my enemy and all of that, right?

It also doesn’t help that Amata is forever busy with her new duties as overseer’s assistant – or whatever her job title is actually called. Jamie misses her like he’s lost a part of himself, and even though he knows she’s not locked away with her father by choice he can’t help the nagging part of his brain that is convinced she abandoned him.

Butch is dealing with the same thing, though with less consequence. His fellow Tunnel Snakes are relatively busy with their new jobs – Wally as a security guard and Paul as an engineer – but they still make some time to see each other. Butch is just one of those people who needs constant attention, which is where Jamie supposes he comes in handy. He tries not to think too hard about it.

He’s is snickering to himself while he reads some messages sent a few weeks back during one of their spats, most of which were petty insults and some pretty creative curses, when a new message blips through and pulls his screen to attention.

913473: nosebleed u up?

Perfect timing, Jamie thinks, sitting up in his bed to type. The 6-digit code is what Butch called his Pip-ID – apparently every Pip-Boy comes with one coded in by default. It was weird at first, trying to memorize the numbers and calm his own paranoia at the thought of someone hacking into their conversations, but Butch said that their numbers were for their Pip-Boys alone, so Jamie trusted him. The horrible, agitated crawling under his skin that was keeping him up all night begins to fade as he replies.

604272: didja even have to ask? 913473: just say yes or no damn 604272: k. no 913473: oh fuck off

Jamie can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him, and he grins like a complete idiot down at the screen.

913473: if ur done being an ass i have somethin for us to do 913473: if u aint busy of course 913473: meet at the place? 604272: sure. be there in 10

He switches his Pip-Boy screen off and hops out of bed, stretching languorously before grabbing his jumpsuit from where he left it earlier that day in a heap on the floor. He tugs it on leg by leg and zips it up before checking himself in the mirror.

His hair is a mop of curls on his head and he does his best to smooth it down, knowing Butch will scold him for not using the correct conditioner to tame his flyaways like he showed him. The bags under his eyes are a bit darker than usual, but there’s nothing to be done about that. He shrugs to himself and turns to the door. No point in being too self-conscious about his appearance this late at night – isn’t like this is a date or anything, he tells himself.

He doesn’t bother being quiet as he leaves his room, knowing his dad would still be working at the clinic or at the very least passed out there on one of the cots. He doesn’t come home much these days.

Jamie shoves his boots on, not even bothering with socks, and peers out of the thick window into the hallway. It seems empty, so he hits the button and creeps out through the door.

The neon blue emergency lights that run along the edges of the ceiling and floor greet him when he steps out of his apartment. He shoves his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit, and peers around the corner before continuing his path. The door closes not-so-softly behind him and he walks down the hall past the restrooms that separate his and Butch’s apartments. He stops momentarily outside the door to the DeLoria’s apartment, noticing it’s dark and quiet inside.

Butch must already be down there, Jamie thinks, picking up his pace as much as he could without making too much noise. Despite the constant creaking and rumbling of the vault’s ventilation and reactor systems the halls at night could carry quite an echo, and his boots aren’t the quietest things to sneak around in.

Patrols were lax recently but knowing his luck he’d get caught breaking curfew and would have to clean the bathrooms again. He briefly regrets not wearing socks because he refuses to take his boots off and walk barefoot on the cold steel floor, even if it is quieter.

Further down the hallway and a bit past the occupied wing of apartments, Jamie stops at the top of a short set of stairs that lead down to a small corridor with one door. A large INACCESSIBLE sign glows ominously above it, and in the corner of the hallway facing the stairwell is a single security camera. It rotates at a snail’s pace, its gears clicking audibly with every circuit it makes of the dead-end hallway.

Jamie ducks down near the wall at the top of the stairs, watching the camera as he has so many times before to study its crawling path. When Butch had discovered this place, they figured out a way to tilt the camera up ever so slightly with the handle of a broom from their shop – creating about thirty seconds of a blind spot to get them from the stairs and through the door without getting caught if they hugged the left wall.

Peering down the hallways around him one more time to make sure no patrols were coming; Jamie types a quick message into his Pip-Boy.

604272: here

He waits a few moments until he hears a couple sharp raps on the metal door down the way, telling him that Butch is there whenever he’s ready. Jamie waits a few more moments and listens to the camera click back into its blind spot before he hops down the stairs, staying low and to the left as he stalks toward the door. He hits it lightly with his palm when he gets there, and it slides open. He has just enough time to duck inside, slamming his fist on the button to shut it just as he hears the security camera restart its rotation.

“You’re still gonna act like it's some big heist no matter how many times we come down here, huh?” Jamie turns around in the darkness and is met with Butch’s grin, a bottle of beer already in one of his fists. His Pip-Boy light is on, basking them in a dim green glow.

“Keeps it interesting,” he replies, punching Butch playfully on the arm. On this side of the door is a long flight of stairs and they continue further down into the pitch darkness, hands pressing along the walls for purchase with nothing but about three feet of lighting in front of them.

The emergency lights are shut off down here, along with the security cameras – probably to save power, so Jamie turns his Pip-Boy light on as well. It’s a bit brighter, but not by much. They’ve been down here enough times by now that their bodies remember how many steps there are, but Jamie always has a nagging fear in the back of his mind that one day the staircase will just keep going forever. He shakes that thought from his head, listening to the sound of their boots stomping down the steps and focusing his gaze on Butch’s free hand as it slides against the railing.

For the past month or so this has been their escape. Butch somehow figured out how to break into the door they just passed through, and they discovered a whole wing of abandoned apartments under the ones they were currently living in. So far all they had done was clear out one room that had a ratty old couch, some blankets, a broken Nuka Cola mini-fridge, and a few wooden storage crates in it. Jamie had also rigged up a small emergency generator and they were able to find some lamps to make it a little less depressing.

Most importantly, they had booze smuggled from Butch’s mom’s liquor stash, a few cartons of cigarettes they’d traded with Stevie for some chems Jamie snuck from his dad’s clinic, their collection of comic books, and Jamie’s old BB gun for when they got bored. It’s far from perfect, but it’s space, and when you’re destined to roam the same hallways with the same people for the rest of your miserable existence – that amounts to a lot.

“So, what are we actually doing?” Jamie asks as they turn into the apartment they’d claimed as their base. Butch has the generator running and the room smells thickly of his peach pomade and cigarette smoke – he must have been down here for a few hours already.

“I,” Butch begins, stopping to pull the cork out of his new bottle of beer with his teeth before spitting it on the floor and taking a swig, “am gonna show you some treasure.” He finishes with a flourish, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and plops down onto the couch next to his discarded Tunnel Snake jacket.

Jamie snorts and pulls up a crate, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch and propping his feet up. He clicks his tongue in mock annoyance when Butch’s boots crowd his own on the small surface and, in a fruitless endeavor, they battle for leg space before giving in to sharing. It’s obvious the other boy is already a bit tipsy.

“Treasure, huh? That’s cool, I guess,” Jamie snickers, snatching the bottle of beer from Butch and downing some before he could protest. It burns in his throat and brings a comforting warmth to his chest. He continues nursing the drink and settles further back into the worn corduroy couch, his posture absolutely terrible. Butch reaches for another bottle.

“Yup.” The bottle pops open and another cork joins the pile growing on the floor. Another drink and an obnoxious burp, then Butch sits forward - feet falling to the floor, his hands on his knees, and an excited light in his eyes. His leg is bouncing incessantly.

“Listen, I was going through some rooms down here and I found an old projector – like the one Brotch has?” He glances at Jamie, blue eyes a soft, dreamy color in the low light, and Jamie can’t help but gulp at the intensity he sees there. When Butch has a plan he’s excited about, he turns into a different person – like all the stress of conforming to the monotony of vault life has washed away and he’s finally allowed to be the mischievous and passionate person hiding underneath it all. Or… something like that. Jamie’s waxing poetic again, something he can’t help but do when around Butch.

“That’s pretty cool,” is all Jamie can bring himself to breathe out as he sips on his beer. He picks at the loose threads on the arm of the couch as he tries not to think about the fact that Butch had his lips on this same bottle just a few seconds ago.

Butch deflates a bit. “Pretty cool?” he mocks, leaning closer. Okay, maybe he’s more drunk than Jamie had first thought, if the redness of his cheeks were any indication.

“Nosebleed, I found full on ho-lo-disks,” Butch emphasizes, blowing a few messy curls away from his forehead. Jamie just shrugs.

“Okay?” he begins, not seeing the big deal. They already have these things in the classroom. “What’re we gonna do, watch some lectures? Don’t tell me DeLoria wants to brush up on his studying,” he taunts.

Butch just sneers at him in response, standing up and only swaying a bit – much to Jamie’s surprise. “You have no imagination, dweeb. Stay here!” And with that, he storms out of the room and into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Jamie can see the green light of his Pip-Boy flash on through the window as he walks further away into the dark.

It’s a few minutes before he comes back, and Jamie can hear the ruckus he’s causing before he sees him. He’s startled out of his comfortable position on the couch and perks up. The door slides open and Butch pushes the projector into their base on its rolling cart. One of the wheels must be rusted because its screeching like a damn rat, scraping against the metal flooring as he drags it to the center of the room. He grabs an old cardboard box from the lower shelf of the cart and slides it on the floor over to Jamie with his foot before going back to set the projector up with their tangled mess of extension cords.

Jamie picks it up and grimaces at the box – it’s a little rank and it feels crusty in some spots. “This thing is probably covered in like a hundred different types of mold,” he complains.

“Didn’t give it to ya so you could judge the box!” Butch snaps, banging the top of the projector impatiently when the power flickers. “Open the damn thing.”

Jamie places the box on the couch beside him and sits up, peeling it open to peer inside. His jaw drops in amazement at the sight – more holodisks than he’s ever seen in his life, all with unique and eye-catching, full-color illustrations on the covers. He stares at Butch in disbelief and catches the other boy staring at him, an unabashed, beaming smile on his face when he sees Jamie’s reaction. When their eyes meet, Butch clears his throat and snaps his attention back to the projector, fiddling with some dials that don’t seem to change anything.

“Cool, right?” He says, his ears turning red as he dismisses his earlier excitement with a sheepish shrug.

“It’s fucking great!” Jamie laughs and begins to rummage through the box. There are real films in here, like he’s only read about in pre-war history classes or his cheesy novels. Aside from a whole slew of superhero films starring characters like The Silver Shroud and even some of Grognak the Barbarian, there are titles that look like they’re about pre-war animals in different parts of the world, some with soldiers in power armor, some ancient recordings of sports, and what looks like a few western and sci-fi films

Butch walks back over and sits beside him, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and leaning in to look at the titles. Jamie’s breath hitches at his closeness and he can feel his cheeks heating up. He tries not to show it, leaning in ever so slightly to let their shoulders brush.

“You can pick first, my treat,” Butch says while gesturing to the patchwork sheet he’d hung up on the opposite wall of the small apartment – Butch must have stitched it together himself out of whatever excess fabric he found. It’s hanging a little crooked and the projector’s STAND BY image is a bit fuzzy, but a bubble of excitement forms in Jamie’s chest regardless. He doesn’t want to read too far into things, but Butch had found this and made it a surprise specifically for them to share. That made him feel a certain kind of way.

He blinks those embarrassing thoughts away and nods, his face warm. Looking over their choices carefully, he finally decides and picks the western – he always did have a fondness for the freedom that seemed to come with being a cowboy – and walks to the projector to pop it in and press play.

He half expects Butch to make fun of his choice, but the other boy is oddly quiet, carefully inspecting his fingernails as Jamie switches off the lamps and kicks off his boots before returning to sit cross-legged on the couch. Butch still hasn’t scooted further away or removed his arm from the back of the couch, so their knees bump and he can feel the warmth of Butch’s arm behind his neck and it sends prickles through his skin.

Only as the movie begins do they realize they don’t have any speakers hooked up – so it’s completely silent in the room other than the whirring of the film in the projector.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Butch sighs and shakes his head in disappointment. Jamie just laughs.

“It’s still cool,” he assures him. “They used to have silent movies all the time apparently – especially back in cowboy days. It’s authentic,” he purses his lips at the end, trying to do his best impression of Mr. Brotch. It seems to work because Butch cracks a grin at him and snorts.

“Sure, it’ll work for now, but I saw some terminals in another apartment down here. We can check for some speakers there later,” Butch says and then his playful grin becomes roguish. “Push comes to shove, we can just swipe one from upstairs. Who’d notice a missing speaker?”

Jamie just scoffs and elbows him, turning his attention back to the film as the title screen fades in and he reads, ‘High Lonesome.’ He didn’t bother to read what the film was about, but it opens with a group of people in a wagon on a vast desert plain with plateaus towering in the distance.

There isn’t too much to see at first, but one thing that sticks with him is the impossible vastness of the sky as the camera zooms out to show a wider view of the prairie they’re riding along. He’s seen pictures of the sky, sure, but something about watching the tiny silhouettes of people move around under it was chilling – it was huge and incredibly empty. He didn’t know if what he was feeling was amazement or terror.

Despite the film being in black and white, the shimmer of the sun on the horses’ flanks as they gallop is bright enough to seem real and Jamie is completely entranced as he watches. And, luckily enough, there seem to be subtitles, so they’ll still be able to understand what’s going on.

Jamie’s trance is momentarily broken when Butch leans down and grabs something from under the couch. He returns with a box of fancy lads which he presses into Jamie’s hands. Jamie mumbles his thanks, his eyes never leaving the picture as he tears into a package and shoves a whole powdery cake into his mouth.

Butch just laughs at him and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lights one just as the young cowboy on screen does – much to Jamie’s delight – and they chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

They pass the snacks, beer, and smokes back and forth between each other as they watch their movies. When the western is over, Butch picks a film called ‘Teenage Caveman,’ saying that it has to be good because the cover has tits and a giant lizard monster on it. It ends up being the worst piece of garbage they’ve ever seen – and that’s saying a lot considering they’ve only seen one other film in their whole lives.

“That dude didn’t even look like a teenager! He had to be like thirty,” Jamie says, tossing the film into a box they decide to label ‘shit.’ According to Butch, they were like pioneers and had to record their findings, so not only were they watching the films, but they were sorting them from best to worst. As Butch had put it in his best overseer impression, they were doing future vault residents a great service and fulfilling their civic duty… by saving others from watching total pieces of trash.

“There wasn’t even a single boob,” Butch mopes, snubbing out the last of his cigarette in the cracked coffee mug functioning as their makeshift ashtray. “Talk about false advertising. The giant lizards were kinda cool, though.” Jamie smacks him upside the head.

“You wouldn’t know what a boob looked like if it smacked you in the face.”

“You take that back!” Butch laughs and tosses their snacks on the floor, lunging for Jamie who’s cackling just as hard. They’re fucking hammered at this point and they roll off the couch into a heap on the floor, knocking a crate over as they grapple at each other. They wrestle like this sometimes – it’s a great outlet for Jamie’s aggressive energy and, when they’re less drunk, Butch actually teaches him how to kick ass. Now, they’re just breathless laughs and fumbling hands as they scramble for purchase on the floor and try their damnedest to pin the other down.

Butch may be stronger on a normal day, but at the moment he’s piss-drunk compared to Jamie who still has a bit of his wits about him. He flips the taller boy over so quickly it’s almost comical and pins him, pressing his knees against his thighs and holding his wrists at his sides to stop him from getting up. He laughs triumphantly.

“What’s wrong, Butchie? You’ve never lost a fight so fast!” He grins down at the boy smugly but stops short when he sees the look on Butch’s face. It’s endearing how red his cheeks are, his hair a mess and his blue eyes wide. Butch just fixes him with those piercing baby blues.

“Don’t get cocky, Nosebleed. I let ya do it,” he says in a soft voice, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jamie’s mouth goes dry, his eyes fixed on Butch’s unbelievably pink lips. He hates himself for how much he wants to kiss him then and without thinking he begins to lean forward. He catches himself, though, and his thoughts have him jumping off of Butch and falling back against the couch like he’s been shocked, his chest heaving. He feels dizzy and he can still smell the earthy spice of the other boy’s aftershave enveloping him like a thick haze he can’t shake.

Butch laughs and pulls himself up into a sitting position, shooting Jamie a dazzling grin from his seat on the floor. “What’s wrong, Jamie?” Butch teases, his voice only a bit slurred and a shit-eating grin creeping its way onto his face. Hearing his name come from Butch is rare and it knocks the breath out of him. All he can do is stare.

Butch clambers ungracefully back up to the couch with him, leaning awfully close and whispering, “cat got your tongue?” His breath is warm on Jamie’s face and it smells like a mixture of smoke and alcohol, something he never thought would smell so intoxicating, but of course it does – it’s Butch.

Jamie’s heart is in his fucking throat and he can’t breathe. Butch is pressed against his side and his back is against the arm of the couch. There’s nowhere for him to escape to – not that he necessarily wants to, but he was never very good with facing his feelings. Either Butch is actively trying to flirt with him or he’s fucking around, and Jamie can’t decide which one is worse.

“You’re drunk, you idiot,” Jamie laughs weakly and goes to push Butch away by the chest but stops when he feels his heart pounding under his t-shirt. The other boy’s breath hitches and his body stiffens at Jamie’s touch, his lips parting as if he were trying to think of what to say.

“So are you,” Butch finally settles with, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Jamie’s wrist. His touch almost feels like it burns. They sit like that for a moment, staring at each other, eyes like fire.

The generator chooses that moment to shut off, leaving them in pitch darkness. Out of instinct, Jamie curls his fingers into Butch’s shirt, his ears ringing at the sudden silence in the room and his breathing becoming labored. Darkness feels suffocating to him sometimes, and this is one of those moments. It lays over them like a thick blanket, and the only thing that pulls him out of his internal panic is Butch’s free hand cupping the back of his head, fingers twining through the thick, curly hair at the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t even have time to think about what Butch might be doing before he feels the press of the other boy’s lips warm against his own. Though they’re unbelievably soft, the kiss is rushed and clumsy – desperate almost – and Jamie grunts when their teeth knock together. He wastes no time returning the kiss, though, his eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the feel of Butch’s lips against his own and the rough burn of his stubble as it brushes against his chin.

It must have just been a power surge, because suddenly the generator kicks back on and the projector screen lights up the room. Their eyes fly open and they wrench apart, still holding onto each other as if for dear life. Whatever safety they felt shrouded in the darkness is ripped away and they’re left feeling vulnerable and exposed. Jamie’s breath comes out in stutters and he dares to glance up at the other boy.

Butch’s eyes are filled with a fiery heat he can’t even describe and something akin to tenderness – which is hard for him to pinpoint since he’s never been looked at like that before. He sucks in a sharp breath. For some reason, even though he’s been dreaming of this moment for months, he just feels terrified and embarrassed – like he fucked up somehow. The panic must be written clearly on his face because Butch pulls away like he’s been slapped and falls back to the other end of the couch.

“Sh-shit, I,” Butch stutters, his hand clutching his chest where Jamie’s was a moment before, “fuck, Jamie, I didn’t mean to.” His voice cracks, sounding almost pleading. Jamie doesn’t know what to say, his mouth flapping uselessly, and it’s too much for him to handle. He doesn’t understand what his problem is. Everything in his heart is telling him to leap forward and continue kissing Butch, but he’s just too fucking scared.

“It’s fine!” He practically snaps, standing up suddenly. He’s shaking and feels clammy and he’s sure he’s as pale as a ghost – is it even possible for something good to give you a panic attack?

He glances around for his boots for a moment, but it’s still too much and he can see Butch starting to reach for him with concern in his eyes. “I have to go,” he blurts out, and he turns tail and runs.

The last thing he hears before he leaves is Butch yelling his name, but he jogs up the steps in the darkness, tripping over his own feet and bruising his knees. He knows he’s acting like a child, but he can’t bring himself to care. He is absolutely not ready to face what’s happening and he needs to be alone in his room now.

When he reaches the door, he doesn’t even stop to think about the security camera on the other side, he just slams his fist on the button and rushes out and thankfully luck is on his side this time because he can hear the camera click into the end of its circuit.

He slows down when he reaches the halls, his bare feet making a lot less noise than his boots, but fuck the floor is cold and he regrets not stopping to find his shoes. Soon he reaches his apartment, and he rushes inside, thankful to see that it’s still empty. He locks himself in his own bedroom, suddenly feeling like everything is too much, and he rips his jumpsuit off, flopping onto his bed in just his tank top and boxers and pulling the covers over his head.

He wants to scream, maybe tear his hair out a little or punch the wall. He cannot believe how badly he fucked that up. He doesn’t even know what this means for their friendship – if he had tried to make a move on Butch and the other boy ran away, he would be devastated! Would Butch even want to talk to him anymore? He worries over these thoughts for a few hours until his brain feels like jelly. The last thing he’s aware of before falling asleep is how his lips taste ever-so-slightly like the sweet mint chap stick Butch always carries around.

---

He wakes up later to the sound of incessant beeping coming from his wrist. He groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes and down his face. He feels like complete shit – hungover, most likely, and his head is swimming.

He looks at his Pip-Boy to check the time and realizes he’s overslept. It’s two in the afternoon and he’s late for his work assignment at the studio but if he’s being honest the thought of having to drag himself out of bed and sit in a room with Butch all day doesn’t seem as great as it used to. He can’t help it when he opens the messaging app, biting his lip as he prepares to read whatever might be there.

913473: it was a prank haha i rly got u good

That one was sent almost immediately after he’d left last night, according to the timestamp. Something about it makes his gut twist, gives him a bit of nausea. He’s not sure if he believes Butch or not. Once again, he’s not sure which is harder to deal with. Dated about an hour later there are a few more.

913473: jamie im sorry pls answer me 913473: don’t ignore me man if ur mad just come beat me up 913473: are u sleeping? damn out of all the times 913473: its k. i kno u need it. gnight

Jamie doesn’t realize he’s chewing his lip to shreds until he tastes blood, and he curses, wiping it away on the hem of his tank top. His eyes are glued to the screen, his heart thundering in his ears. Dated even later are a handful of other messages and he can tell by their contents that Butch must have kept drinking in his absence. The thought of that tugs at his heart a little – maybe he isn’t the only one who’s terrified of his own feelings and kind of a fuckup.

913473: i know ur asleeeep 913473: gdamn typing onthis shit. fcking sucks 913473: m drunk but idc. i kissed u jamie n itfucking rocked 913473: wasnt a prank. im srry. dont hate me 913473: u can hit me all u want. ill evenlet u win the fight. 913473: jsut dont hate me

Jamie groans and grabs his pillow, shoving his face into it a few times and letting out as loud of a yell as he dares. It’s not enough, but it will have to do. Breathless and flushed, he’s about to lay back down when a new message comes through and his heart leaps so high into his throat that he nearly chokes. He peeks at it over the pillow.

913473: yo you’re late dude. like super late! 913473: i figured id let u sleep off the hangover a bit but damn 913473: i aint gonna cover ur ass if the overseer comes knocking. i have enough of a headache. 913473: so get down here!!! 913473: speakin of headache i was drunk as shit last night. dont remember a thing past that crappy monster movie. so ignore whatever embarrassing crap i sent you, k? 913473: and dont tell anyone im a talkative drunk or ill pummel you, nosebleed.

Jamie looks at the messages in disbelief and flops back onto his bed, his thoughts racing. He can’t tell if Butch is lying or not – he knows even if Butch doesn’t remember there was still something different about what happened last night but fuck if he’s going to bring it up now.

He’s relieved, but also disappointed, maybe a little angry – either at himself or at Butch, he can’t tell. He’s shaking, wracked with nerves at the sudden sense that everything might change soon. He can’t handle change – can’t handle much, if he’s honest with himself, but change is the hardest of all. He curls his fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly and trying to resist the urge to pull it out in chunks. He’s losing himself in his worries again when another message notification shakes him out of it.

“Fuck!” he shouts, wishing he could rip his Pip-Boy off his arm and throw it away.

913473: NOSEBLEED GET THE FUCK TO WORK NOW 913473: its boring alone

Jamie feels like he’s actually going to tear his hair out, but he can’t help himself from laughing. He gives in and types out a quick response.

604272: for the love of GOD 604272: STFU 604272: im on my way now 604272: and i didn’t read ur stupid messages don’t worry. too many for me to care

He bites his lip again, his heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest as he writes out one more message.

604272: i don’t even remember much of the shitty movie lol, u know im a blackout drunk

There are a few minutes without a reply and Jamie starts to think maybe he’s fucked it up again, then more messages come through.

913473: u stupid fuckin idiot 913473: what would i do without u 913473: to pick on i mean

Jamie lets out a trembling sigh and gets out of bed, shaking himself free of his worries and tugging on his jumpsuit again. His hands are quivering, probably will be all day with the way his nerves are, but he can handle it.

It’s only as he’s going to leave does he realize he doesn’t have his shoes.

913473: i have your boots btw dumbass

Jamie is terrified of change. He’s terrified of his own emotions, especially when he can’t control them. He wishes things were simpler and he wishes he could have been born into a more agreeable body in a more agreeable time, but as he walks, shoeless, out of the apartment and to the studio space he shares with Butch, he feels a bit comforted in the fact that Butch might feel exactly the same way. Even if shit is messy and he fucks it up, Butch keeps coming back - and that’s good enough for him.

#fluffyfebruary #fallout #fallout 3 #butch deloria #butch/m!lw #lone wanderer #fanfiction #mlm #jay writes #fluffyfeb

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years

Text

Banished (Part 20)

*Not my Gif*

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been locked up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when she gets banished…

Post Date: 10-18-19

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

~Banished Master List~

~Master List~

~WIP’s~

*Based on episode 2x07 of the 100 “Long into an Abyss”

Bellamy and Clarke walked in silence to the drop ship. Clarke kept taking glances towards him but he remained unfazed, looking only ahead into the trees and not returning any of her looks.

“Bellamy can we talk about-“ she began before Bellamy shook his head. Since he found out you were still alive but Clarke banished you his speaking to Clarke had been minimal, only occurring when necessary. Clarke felt even more guilty than she had before when she saw Bellamy’s face, she knew she had no right and Bellamy’s withdraw from her just proved it. It seemed like everything was changing. Finn massacred a village, Bellamy wouldn’t talk to her, her mom was actually down on earth, and she had no idea if you were alive or not.

When they got into the drop ship Clarke went into shock at the sight of Lincoln unconscious in front of them.

“It’s okay. He’s restrained.” Bellamy assures her before moving to his sister, only giving Clarke a side eye.

“I knew Mount Weather was controlling the reapers but I didn’t know they made them.” She whispered as she got closer to the restrained man, being careful not to make matters worse as Bellamy grunted.

“If they are doing this to grounders, what are they doing to our friends?”

—

It wasn’t long after they took Kane out before they brought him back in, chaining him up not far from you. He looked exhausted, his shirt held sweat marks and he had bags under his eyes. He looked older than when you last saw him and his hair was slightly longer and more tangled. It was silent in your cell and you wondered how long it would’ve lasted. Apparently not that long.

“I thought you were dead.” He whispered as a shiver ran through your body. You peeled your eyes off him and stared at the dark ceiling.

“We’ve been over this Kane.” Your voice sounded foreign to him, a coldness behind it he knew he deserved. He knew the child he practically helped raise had changed but he couldn’t help think she was somewhere in there.

He pulled himself to his feet, a slight limp in his step before he leaned against the wall next to you, his hands still chained up to his old spot. “I thought you died.” He repeated again, only this time softer as his voice cracked making you scoff.

“Would you care if I did? No one else does. Not even...”

You let the thought settle as you dropped your head, laughing bitterly. Kane stared incredulity at you.

“I care Y/N.”

“Really?” You spat so viciously he flinched. “Where was that 10 years ago? You left me Kane. You don’t deserve to care about me.” You continued to yell at him and he sat there taking in all your words until you stopped. It stayed silent for a few minutes until you moved to stand up, approaching the door with clenched fists.

“Lexa! Or Commander! Whatever! Just let me out!” You shouted and pounded on the door until your fists ached. You rested your head on the door, feeling the coolness of it against your skin before leaning on your back on the wall next to it and sliding down on the ground, now farther from Kane than before. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you as you curled up into a ball, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your hands around your torso.

“You’re not wearing your necklace.” He pointed out as your stomach dropped.

“Yeah.” You whispered, not really wanting to tell him but knowing if you didn’t he’d try to talk about other things. “I was taken to Mount Weather. They wouldn’t let outside objects in or some shit. Took it off me when I was unconscious.”

Kane furrowed his brows, shifting in his spot. “You were unconscious?” Your eyes were looked to the ground as you found yourself frozen. You could feel your hand pressed against your stab wound and bandaging, still a little sore from basically everything you’ve been through since. You nodded and slowly closed your eyes as you thought back to the last time you were at the drop ship. And the last time you saw Bellamy.

“Y/N!” You heard as you spun around seeing Bellamy staring right at you from the other side of the camp. The sound of the drop ship doors closing caught your attention as you realized you were both stuck out here. You were about to take a step towards him before a sharp pain in your stomach stopped you. You looked down as a spear pierced right through you from a grounder. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as Bellamy screamed your name and you fell to your knees. You closed your eyes, trying to mask the pain as the grounder fell, some delinquent you never met standing over you. The sounds of the fight was drowned out as everyone around you started screaming to run. Bellamy tried to come closer to you, but you shook your head, trying everything you could not to pass out right now.

“Go! It’s okay.” You mouthed to him as he started to cry before Finn grabbed his jacket, pulling him away from the ship. It took only a second before your legs started working and you managed to push yourself up. The spear stuck out of you, making every step dangerously close to being your last as you held onto the wall for support. You knew it was only a matter of time before the ship blew and you knew if you had any chance of staying alive you needed to not be in the vicinity. You hobbled past the gate a few feet before your legs gave out and you fell to the ground with a scream. But the sound was overtaken by the drop ship, lighting up and barbecuing grounders. The heat of the flames burned on your face as you closed your eyes, letting the warmth wash over you before darkness.

You didn’t know Kane was shaking you until you snapped back to reality, pushing his arms off you as you winced. “Let go of me!” You sneered before realizing you weren’t alone. Lexa and Gustus stood just in front of the door, staring down at you when you while you were in your daze and you scrambled to your feet.

“Take her with us.” Lexa told the man who nodded, moving out of her way before guiding you out of the room.

—

Lincoln’s condition was getting worse, he was convulsing and Clarke didn’t know how to help him so Octavia turned to one last person.

She entered the drop ship, Nyko following behind her as Bellamy moved for his weapon.

“He’s Lincoln’s friend! He’s their healer!” She shouted, assuring Bellamy he meant no harm. Bellamy looked reluctant but complied, keeping his gun pointed at Nyko but allowing him to come in and help a seizing Lincoln.

He pulled out a vial as Clarke watched, asking him what it was only to receive silence in return.

“Yu gonplei ste odon.” He said before tipping the vial gently. Clarke scrunched her face in confusion at the words, trying to find the familiarity of it before it hit her.

“Stop!” She yelled, catching the drop of ‘medicine’ before it landed in Lincoln’s mouth. “Yu gonplei ste odon.” She repeated, emphasizing each word. “They say that before death.”

“How do you know?” Octavia asks weary of the fact that if she was wrong Lincoln was going to die. Clarke swallowed thickly, glancing up towards Bellamy before meeting the raven haired girls eyes.

“Because that’s what Y/N said after we escaped Mount Weather.” She didn’t miss the way Bellamys jaw clenched at the mention of you, or the way Octavias mouth slacked open and turned to face her brother as Clarke focused on Lincoln and Nyko. “He not trying to save Lincoln. He’s trying to kill him.”

Nyko began to explain that death was the only way to be free of being a reaper, something none of them wanted to believe before Finn came up. “You! Ripa!” He screamed at him as Everyone pointed their guns at Nyko, keeping him at bay. He proceed to threaten Finn, saying blood must have blood and saying he’ll pay for the slaughter of his people. Lincoln began seizing before he stopped breathing, making Octavia choke in sobs and Clarke act fast. She preformed CPR on Lincoln as Nyko watched astounded.

“He was dead. How did you do that?” He asked Clarke after Lincoln took a breath again. It didn’t take long before Clarke realized that the Grounder didn’t know how to properly bring them back.

And she also realized she had something to offer the Grounders.

After Clarke left, things at the drop ship calmed and Octavia grabbed her brothers attention.

“Why didn’t you tell me Y/N was alive?” She whispered as Bellamy closed his eyes, trying to get his head off this situation.

“I don’t know.”

“Bellamy.” He looked down at his sister who started to remind him so much of his mom. The same strict tone Aurora would always use with him coming through right now and he couldn’t help but sigh deeply.

“Clarke banished her again. Even if it did matter if she was alive she isn’t going to want to come back.” He watched as she took in his words, trying to get over the fact she just found out her best friend was alive before she smirked.

“What’s going on between you two?”

Bellamy’s stomach knotted as he told the truth. “I don’t know.”

“Do you love her?” She asked bluntly as Bellamy’s eyebrow rose, a small scoff rolling off his mouth.

“I don’t even know her.” He argued.

“Come on Bellamy!”

“What do you want me to say O? We started off fighting and I literally dangled her over a grounder death trap then she risked her life for me. I don’t know what happened. She was just in my head. All the time.”

She was silent as Bellamy fell against the wall, siding on down to the floor and staring at it. “Does it scare you?” She questioned quietly as she joined Bellamy, resting her head against his shoulder as she looked at her barely breathing boyfriend.

“She said I don’t even know her. And maybe I don’t but it doesn’t matter.”

“Bellamy you can’t hide from your feelings.” She told him, turning to look at him as he pressed his head back onto the wall, closing his eyes.

“Why? Why can’t I just because I’m getting feelings for someone I barely know!” He didn’t know if he was yelling or just talking loudly but what he did know was every time he closed his eyes that smirk you gave him on the first day on this ground and the fire you had always held in your eyes played on repeat in head.

“So you do have feelings for her.” Bellamy didn’t say anything else after that, choosing to glare at his younger sister but little did he know, not saying anything told Octavia basically everything.

—

It was silent as you followed the commander out of the room you’ve only ever seen the inside of for the past few days. You didn’t waste time looking around and taking in as much as you could before you were stopped. Lexa continued walking towards a throne before sitting down and staring at you. A woman by Lexa’s side started to talk in their language but nothing she said made any sense to you.

“Shof op Indra ” Lexa ordered as the woman, Indra, talked talking and instead glared at you. You didn’t cower under her gaze, instead you stood taller, returning her glower before looking at Lexa.

“I’ve watched you Skai kiler.” Lexa declares as you felt your gaze falter, dropping to the floor before returning. “You only killed those who posed as a threat to you. Those who attacked you first. You gave them a way of backing out first.”

“And none of them took it.” You tried your best to sound intimidating, but Lexa just smiled at you. Indra seemed to have enough and she took a step forward you only to be stopped by the commander.

“Bants osir.” Lexa ordered but Indra made no move to leave and Lexa stood up, coming behind Indra who stood between you and the throne. “Leave us.” She repeated once more in English, making Indra suck in a breath and push past you, exiting the building in a swift motion. Lexa took the opportunity to clear out the room, leaving only you and her. “You fight with honor Y/N of the sky people.”

“I’m not a sky person.” You sneered and Lexa looked slightly surprised but nodded.

“Like I said before, I’ve been watching you. You fight with honor. Y/N. And I want you to fight for us. By my side.”

You took a sharp breath. Out of everything you expected coming into this room being asked to join the grounders, much less fight by Lexa’s side. You didn’t know what to say as you stared at Lexa, trying to figure out what you wanted, but you were interrupted before you had to figure it out.

“Heda. It’s time.” Indra told her and left but not before giving you one last narrowed glare.

“What’s your answer Y/N of the- Y/N?” She corrected herself. And for some reason that was all it took before you nodded, joining the grounders in their travels to Camp Jaha.

—

When you heard Clarke had came to talk to Lexa you were nervous but you were even more nervous as you watched her exit the tent set up with Lexa following behind. The grounders following all stopped when Lexa ordered and she made her way over to you. Clarke had found your face in the crowd of grounders and sat in shock. You had to have been the last person she expected to see at a Grounder camp. Lexa told you to come with them and you did, choosing to ignore the hatred and anger bubbling up in you when you looked at Clarke.

Before you knew it you were arriving at the drop ship. Clarke led you upstairs and your heart started to speed up as you looked up the stairs towards the closed hatch. You could feel Clarke’s eyes on you as you turned to her, arching a brow. She opened her mouth to speak before commotion from above pulled your attentions and she went up first, Lexa following with you behind her.

Bellamy watched as Clarke came up, seeing her help her mom with an unresponsive Lincoln, but everything about Lincoln and Clarke went to the back of his mind when he saw you pull yourself up. You hadn’t noticed him yet, instead you watched the man who protected you when you were lost lie on the floor almost dead. After Lexa had pulled you back you finally looked at the rest of the room. A woman Clarke had called mom was helping her with Lincoln, doing chest compressions and anything she could really as Octavia was sat on the floor next to her and Clarke, holding Lincoln as much as she could. When you finally landed on Bellamy, all the air was knocked out of your lungs and you couldn’t pull your eyes away.

He was alive.

He was standing right in front you.

Bellamy was alive.

“He’s gone.” Abby announces as the drop ship becomes quiet, the only sound was Octavia’s sobs as she clung onto Lincoln who had stopped breathing. The room became tense as Clarke stood up, looking at Lexa as you finally tore your eyes off Bellamy and saw the anger in Lexa’s eyes.

“You lied.” She said as everyone drew their weapons. You didn’t have anything and Bellamy saw, subconsciously taking a step in front of you to protect you.

Lexa noticed.

But you didn��t catch on because you were too busy staring at the shock baton in Abbys hand. You grabbed it, ignoring the yells from around the room as you pressed it to Lincoln’s chest.

“Hit him again.” Clarke said as you followed her order, pressing the baton into Lincoln chest as he reacted to the electricity shooting through his body. He gulped in a breath and you felt relief wash over you. The entire room was staring at you besides Octavia and Lincoln who were holding each other. Lexa was staring at you as well, but you didn’t notice that either. Because all you were looking at was Bellamy.

Thoughts?

All Taglists Open

****Reblogging with Banished Taglist****

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @sadn0va @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey @hollymac79

Bellamy Blake: @jodiereedus22 @nyxxxwtp @danielabetancourth

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mermurder · 5 years

Text

Pretty Little Square - a Jotaro/reader fanfic

i was just a smal baby weeb when i wrote my last fan fiction but the time has come (aka i started watching jjba and hoe out for all the Joestars)

Basically reader is stuck watching Jotaro during detention and things get a little rocky. No smut or nothin’ (yet ;000) but there are some swearsies w/ one directed at the reader so theres that. like i said this is my first fan fic in many moons so is probably trash. Enjoy!

Being at school this late was really starting to creep you out. The empty hallways and classrooms had a very strange aura to them. Like you were in some horror movie. You’d usually wouldn't be here this late if it wasn’t for one of your teachers asking for your help. He had to watch over the kids in detention today but had to leave due to some sort of family emergency. At the last minute he begged you to stay and take their place and you couldn’t say no. As class president, he knew he could trust you to watch over the troublemakers. Actually just one troublemaker. Before he left he handed you a sticky note letting you know who would be coming. Jotaro Kujo was the only name written down. Would he even bother coming? You weren’t even sure what he was in detention for, this time at least. It didn’t matter, he’s done all sorts of things that landed him in hot water. Even almost gotten expelled a few times. If it wasn’t for his saint of a mother he would have been kicked out a long time ago.

She was such a nice lady, when you and Jotaro used to pal around she treated you like her own daughter. You and Jotaro actually used to be really close. Before your parents divorced you lived in the same neighborhood as the Kujos. Even though you were children your parents teased that you and Jotaro were little lovebirds. In reality you just did the normal things kids used to do. Played in the playground and watched after school cartoons. You two stayed friends all the way until high school. That was when Jotaro changed. The normal, kind kid you grew up with turned into a cold and sometimes cruel person. Now that you were class president you denied ever even knowing him, worried your reputation would suffer if anyone knew you used to hang around with him. You’d never dare tell anyone you used to have a crush on him either.

You sighed and raised your hand to block the setting sun from getting in your eyes. You leaned against the desk in the front of the classroom, waiting. The watch on your wrist showed three fifty-nine PM. Detention started at four. If he wasn’t here by fifteen past you’d leave. You weren’t going to sit here when you could be home studying and applying for scholarships. The classroom door creaked open and you turned to look. Holy shit he actually came. Jotaro stood in the doorway. His hands in his pockets and hat pulled down to shade his eyes.

“Where’s Mr. Ishimura?” he questioned in his signature monotone. You pushed yourself off the desk. “He had something he needed to attend to. He asked me to watch you instead.” Jotaro scoffed and let out a quiet ‘whatever’ and walked over to one of the desks in the middle of the room. He plopped himself down in his seat and propped his feet up on the desk. Just an hour of babysitting and you could finally go home.

You decided to take a seat at the teacher’s desk. Pulling a book out of your bag you cracked it open and began reading. It was a book about some female warrior destined to fight against evil and defend her people. Your friend pleaded that you read it so you could go with her to see the movie when it came out. Humoring her, you'd already gotten to about the middle. The protagonist was starting to fall in love with the bad boy who’d cast himself out of the village. He was gruff and flippant towards her. But she was drawn to his charms like a moth to a flame. Barf. Who would actually fall for his crap?

The sound of a can cracking open yanked you out of your thoughts. You peered over your book to look at Jotaro. You hoped he just opened a can of soda but this was Jotaro Kujo we’re talking about. He leisurely took a sip from his beer as his eyes darted back and forth across the pages of a book. Was it worth the effort to get up and ask him to stop? Exhaling through your nose, you got up and walked around the desk to stand in front of Jojo. He either didn’t notice you were in front of him or didn’t care. Probably the latter. “Jotaro.” you said, hands on your hips. No response. “Jojo.” Oops you didn’t mean to call him by your childhood nickname for him but it seemed to get his attention. He stared up at you past the brim of his hat. It felt like he was glaring daggers into you. “You know what I’m going to say don’t you?” There was a pleading tone in your voice. Maybe just once he would behave. To your surprise he held out the can to you loosely. You snatched it away from him and gave him a disappointed look. It was practically empty already. Turning away you intended to keep the can to throw out somewhere else, you didn’t want the janitors finding an empty can of beer and thinking you had something to do with it. There was still a small amount of liquid still in the can though. Without thinking you brought the can to your lips and chugged down what was left. Behind you a soft chuckle came from Jotaro.

“I guess the rumors going around are true then.” He mumbled, not quite intending for you to hear but the silence of the room made it audible. You turned on your heel to face Jojo. “What do you mean?” You asked, equal parts insult and curiosity hanging off your words. He didn’t even bother looking up from his book. “Everyone knows that the senior class president isn’t as straight laced as she makes herself out to be.” Okay sure you had a habit of having a smoke or two after school. And sometimes you’d sneak your dad’s beers if you were up late studying. It wasn’t something you were proud of but it was true. There was nothing to be done about the rumors, it wasn’t the gossip that pissed you off anyway. “You’re one to talk.” Your words cut through the air like a knife. Jotaro’s shoulders tensed and finally for the first time in the past half an hour he’d been with you he looked you straight in the eye. Placing his book on the desk he stood from his seat, towering over you. He looked down at your tiny form. You’d forgotten how piercing his blue eyes were. “What's that supposed to mean.” Your words were sharp but by far his were more intimidating. What had you gotten yourself into?

A familiar heat grew on our face. It was embarrassing being called out on your words. But more than that you were angry. Bottling up how you felt about Jotaro would do you no good. He was here, he had no choice but to hear what you had to say. “I’m so sick of your attitude…” Getting the words out of your mouth was already hard enough, looking Jojo in the eye was impossible. Jotaro was silent. You had no idea what his reaction was but after a short pause you kept speaking. “I might have my own problems but you act like such a jackass!” Gaining more confidence you stepped back and looked up at Jojo. With his hands in his pockets he once again had his hat covering his face. It cast an ominous shadow over his eyes. There was no way to tell what he was thinking. But you could tell he was listening. You already called this giant man a jackass, might as well keep going.

“You act like you’re better than everyone else, its so annoying. I hate it, everyone hates it! Everyone's too afraid to call you out because they're afraid you’re gonna kick their ass.” The hands at your side balled up into fists. “You’re just...you’re a completely different person.” The frustration you were feeling made it hard to form sentences but you kept firing off anyway. “I remember when we used to play together. You were so nice back then. You loved going to the aquarium and spending time with your mom. Now you act like a complete bastard to everyone! This tough guy act you put on isn’t cool Jojo. I used to like you…now I just wish you’d snap out of it and act right.” Barely audible you added one last thing. “I miss the old Jojo.”

Years of hearing about Jotaro getting in trouble had manifested into anger about the person you used to know. In your freshman year together you sometimes day dreamed of what it would be like to be Mrs. Kujo. You tried to push the silly thoughts about your best friend down until eventually you didn’t have to. The two of you drifted apart. Jotaro became a delinquent. You became a good student and class president. Feelings of infatuation morphed into anger. You lost your closest friend and now he treated everyone like shit. Now is was all finally out. The impromptu vent session actually felt nice. But now you had to deal with the consequences.

Before you knew it Jotaro was right in front of you and invading your personal space. He glared into your eyes and managed to trap you between his body and the desk next to you. He leaned down just enough to be able to be face to face to you. “Listen to me.” He growled through his teeth. “Just because our parents made us go on play dates doesn’t mean you know me like the back of your hand. I grew up, things changed. It's time for you to do the same.” He was close enough to you that you could smell the cologne and cigarette smoke on him. You were terrified but also strangely excited. “I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me. I’ll do whatever the hell I damn well please. You have no idea what I've been through or what I’m going through. So you don’t have the fucking right to chew me out about how I’ve changed.” Your eyes began to water and you closed your eyes to prevent the tears from coming, in addition to turning your head away so he wouldn't see you cry. Just like you Jojo had one final thing to say. “The last thing I need is you mouthing off at me and acting like a little bitch!” He didn’t yell at you but his raised voice echoed off the walls of the room. It was enough to finally force tears from you. One or two streamed down your cheek and you felt your lip begin to quiver. You couldn’t figure out why this hurt so bad. You didn’t care about some loser like Jojo anymore. Right?

When you opened your eyes again Jojo was still in front of you but standing straight at his normal height. He looked down on you but he didn’t look pissed like you thought he would. He actually looked kind of sad. The words he said replayed in your head over and over again. The tears came quicker and your chest began to tighten. “Just... just get out.” you mumbled between sniffles. You didn’t want to be around him anymore or for him to see you cry. Though it’s probably too late for that. Jojo collected his things and obeyed. You looked at him as he walked out the door and he gave you a look back. After waiting a moment you let the tears fall as they pleased.

Detention ended early that day. You didn’t care. After that you never saw or heard from Jojo again. He would creep into your mind from time to time but you’d quickly try to think of something else. Now that you were in college you couldn’t waste time thinking about stuff like that. Sometimes you could swear you’d saw someone who looked just like him on campus, but there was no way. A delinquent like him probably ended up on the streets or something.

...Right?

#jjba #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #reader insert

126 notes · View notes

of-princesses-and-antlers · 5 years

Text

@superhero-forhire 's Sleep Deprived, Boredom Induced, The 100 Hiatus 2019/2020 Fic Rec Masterpost(wow that's a long title)

Ok guys, so for no other reason than it's currently 2:30am and I'm bored and apparently not sleeping, I have decided to put together a list of some of the best fics (in my opinion) this fandom has to offer! And as we are currently at the beginning of what is going to be a very long and excruciating (and our last) hiatus, I figure there's no better way to get through it than with some quality reading material.

(This list will be mostly Bellarke and Clarke Griffin Centric)

So without further ado, here is a (somewhat) complete list of my all time Favorite t100 Fanfics, as they are listed/sorted in my bookmarks

First up

Special Collection:

Reach Out (Touch Me) by ParadiseAvenger

When a hot spring was discovered near the camp, Clarke was excited to use it to soothe her aching muscles and escape from the pressure of holding so many lives in her hands. As it turned out, she wasn't the only one.

Meet Me in the Morning by monroeslittle

“I guess one of us is messed up,” he said, “and it’s part of our hallucination that the other is, too.” He paused. “Seems appropriately hellish that my mind sticks me with you.”

She pursed her lips. “Likewise.”

AU. Clarke is trapped in a stupid time loop, and guess who's trapped with her?

Love is Not a Whisper (or a weakness) by monroeslittle

"There was a strange, muffled snap, and the tentacle around her middle was retracted. The hold on her ankle was gone, and Bellamy was pulling her up through the water. She began to pump her arms, and they broke the surface; she gasped, and coughed.

He pressed a gun into her hand. “If you see a ripple, shoot,” he ordered."

AU. The dropship doesn't land on land. The next seven years are a little bit different.

Sing the Rage of Peleus' Son Achilles by viansian

"I have spent my entire life afraid of men thought to be gods," he finally says. "I'll tell you a secret, princess: these men? The ones who claim to be deities? Their blood isn't ichor. They bleed red like the rest of us, and sometimes they need to be reminded of that."

When the Strong Break by AJRedfern

In which Bellamy Blake teaches Marcus Kane something about desperation, loyalty and unrealised feelings.

(Or the one where Marcus Kane slowly comes to realise what we've all known since season 1)

*Ep. 302 from Kane's POV.*

And Now You're Home by asroark

She didn’t try to muffle the sounds of her crying this time. It wasn’t like anyone was around to hear it, anyway. At least if she was loud, Clarke could drown out the silence for a few moments. She cried for her friends, the ones she had already lost and the ones that might have made it up to space. She cried for her mom and for Kane. She cried for the bodies she found in the valley when she first arrived. And she cried for herself.

She didn’t hear the shuffling behind her this time. She was crying too loud to hear it. But she heard the quiet, “Are you hurt?” rumbling behind her in a deep voice, and it scared her so bad that she almost fell off the ledge and back into the water. But he stopped her from falling. His hand gripped around her wrist, pulling her back onto the ledge as she caught her breath.

Grounder!Bellamy AU where Clarke finds out she isn't the last person left on Earth.

Come Get A Hold Of Me by theinvisibledisaster

Clarke is overwhelmed by the intensity of being around a civilization after six years of solitude with Madi.

She is also very touch-starved.

Bellamy notices.

By Tomorrow We'll Be Lost by WiinterIsNotComing

“I would tell you everything,” he murmured against her skin, “if you asked.”

She swallowed and stared at the ceiling. “Even if it got you killed?”

He pulled away to look at her. “Oh Clarke.” He breathed out. “Being near you is enough to get me killed.”

An Evening I Will Not Forget by theoneinquisitor

It's his last night before deployment, and all Bellamy wants to do is make it memorable. Meeting Clarke? It's definitely something he won't forget.

Canon-Verse/Divergence:

His Arms, Her Crown by beadedslipper

A year has passed since the remainder of the original hundred escaped Mt. Weather and reunited with their comrades. Things are going well for them and they are about to celebrate their first anniversary on earth. But on the ground things never stay simple or safe for long. When Clarke is separated from the group during a routine mission how will she ever find her way back home? And how will Bellamy lead the people who need him now more than ever when all he can think about is getting his princess back?

keep me safe inside (your arms like towers) by glowinghorizons

"Bellamy looks at her, really looks at her, and reminds himself that she’s only just turned eighteen. She’s still a kid, and suddenly he’s aware of how much stronger than him she is. Only eighteen, yet she’s taken it upon herself to make sure these kids survive life on the ground.

“I trust you,” he tells her, and he’s only a little surprised to realize that it’s the complete truth."

season one AU. the 100 are sent to the ground and learn how to survive. bellamy and clarke fight to keep a peace treaty alive when the ark comes down, and find each other along the way.

You're Just Another Recovering Heart by prosciutto

Clarke’s still looking at him when he finally brings himself to turn away, her gaze impossibly soft, but it’s the way she says his name that breaks him, in the end. “Bell.”

He closes his eyes, the motion reflexive. “Letters,” he says finally, sounding absolutely wrecked, despite himself. “They’re letters I wrote to you, while you were gone.”

Bellamy gets into the habit of writing letters to the girl he left behind in the six years they’re apart. But as it turns out, Clarke’s alive, and she’s read them. (Or: the fallout of a love confession six years in the making.)

In My Dreams We Are Always Together by andsowemeetagain

100 delinquents got sent to Earth and battled for survival against the odds. They landed in Trikru territory but that is not where they stayed. After weeks of battle and war, the Sky People finally lost. They were sent to a land far away, where a group of Grounders unlike any they've met waited for them.

as moonlight through the pines by twilightstargazer

The tattoos are Bellamy’s idea.

Clarke has left her kit of ink and needles on their makeshift dining table, next to her paintings that she was letting dry. Harper came in earlier asking for a touch-up and she forgot to put them away.

Now, Bellamy’s eyes land on it and he tugs her towards it saying, “I want another tattoo.”

In the end she draws a minimalistic version of a sunset-- or sunrise, depending on how you look at it-- over the ocean, just a few straight lines for the sea and a semicircle for the sun. It’s very simple, with thick dark lines that stand out nicely from the skin.

“It could probably pass as a clan tattoo,” she says, studying it while she cleans it up. “Maybe we should give it to all our people.”

“I could give it to you,” he says, already reaching for the ink, and Clarke is sufficiently drunk enough that nothing about that sentence sets off any alarm bells in her head. “You’re my people. You need one too.”

She grins and reveals her forearm to him too, already taking a swig from the bottle in preparation. “Okay.”

or, 3 times the grounders thought they were married and one time they actually were

Parents in parenthesis by Ideasofmarch

In which Bellamy and Clarke skip the animosity faze and start straight at co-leaders - and parents, somehow - and things turn out a lot better for almost everyone involved.

or.

The ark's coming down and the council wants to combine camps. The price? Bellamy's head on a stake.

And that's one price Clarke just isn't willing to pay.

The Cure For Anything by enoughtotemptme

Anya said not to approach the Sky People, so he doesn’t. He just watches from a distance as the young, strange people pour out of the mouth of their ship. Many are his sister’s age, but none appear to have a fraction of the discipline Octavia does.

His sister is a warrior, and has been for years.

These people…

These people are children.

Stupid ones, Bellamy notes, as some fall to their knees and kiss the ground perilously close to a pile of deer droppings.

And then, he sees her.

Modern Setting:

regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all by Chash

After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

I'll Be Chasing Angels All My Life by grumpybell

“Always. Night, Princess.” He hangs up and finds his mother watching him with oddly clear eyes. He swallows, uncomfortable with the look.

“Who's your princess?” Aurora asks, a smile on her lips. His princess, Bellamy pushes the thought away. Of course it would sound like that to someone who doesn't know.

“She's no one.”

“Now, I know I raised my boy not to lie to his mother,” Aurora says, mock sternly. Bellamy shifts a little, trying to think how to even begin to explain Clarke, what they are and aren't to each other.

Something Always Survives by asroark

Bellamy had been trapped in this place for over two years. He can’t even count how many cellmates he lost over that time, how many times he had to meet a new voice from a person he would never see… And, almost every time, he found himself telling them a story to help calm them down, to reassure them that everything was going to be okay, even when he knew it would never be okay. Clarke had been no different than the others until this moment.

She was the first one to ever try to comfort him in return. So, he whispered, “Okay,” and pressed his ear to the corner.

Modern AU loosely inspired by The OA where Clarke finds herself abducted and caged with four strangers as they all struggle to make sense of their captor's experiments.

Challenge Accepted by insideimfeelindirty

He doesn't even like Clarke Griffin, he's pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone.

“You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.”

As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop.

“Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?”

And he's never backed down from a challenge in his life.

did you invent the airplane? because you wright for me by FrostedGemstones22

Layovers and plane malfunctions suck. That is, unless you have a sexy stranger to keep you company all the way through your travels...

Or, Bellamy and Clarke join the Mile High Club

when it all comes together by soundtracktomysoul

The four times the delinquents tried to set them up and the one time they didn't need to

The one where Jasper is a die hard Bellarke shipper and makes a group chat.

The Delinquents:

What We Built by elle_stone

What, precisely, it means to be 'Dad,' he can’t actually say. He's something more than a make-believe, playhouse version of a father figure, something less than an actual parent. It's not a role he could explain to anyone, but then, no one ever asks. Outside of their insular group, no one even knows about the old tradition, and as long as the dropship survivors stick to themselves, the status quo remains unchallenged, uninterrogated.

It starts as a joke, this habit the hundred have of calling Clarke and Bellamy 'mom' and 'dad.' But by the time the Mount Weather survivors return to Camp Jaha, it's become much more than that. It's become a way to signal that they're still a family, even as they reunite with their people and integrate themselves into the growing settlement.

One of the Greatest Titles in the World is Parent by jollyrogerjayhawk

“One of the greatest titles in the world is parent, and one of the biggest blessings in the world is to have parents to call mom and dad.” Bellamy and Clarke have somehow quasi-adopted a plethora of children.

Senses by Ghelik

This isn't what Abby expected. She isn't sure what she had expected, but this loyalty to a teenage would-be murderer, this compliance is not it.

It is clear that the children of this camp are in dire need of saving. Good thing that the Ark is here now.

Baby, Let Me Straighten Out Your Broken Bones by chalantness

She's absolutely frightened and he can't fathom it. He can't reconcile the Clarke that's taken care of them since Day One on the ground – that clawed arrows and spears and bullets from their bodies and refused to let them die, that cut open her own wounds in pure protective instinct because she felt like they were in danger – with the Clarke standing before him. She's afraid, not of Grounders, or Mountain Men, or the judgment she'd face as soon as she stepped inside.

She's afraid of herself.

all the kids are talking slang i won't pretend to understand by caramelle

"You told Mo— Clarke?!"

Clarke arches a brow, crossing her arms over her middle. "'Maw-Clarke'?"

Four times the delinquents called Clarke/Bellamy ‘mom/dad’ + One time someone else did

8 times Kyle Wick heard about Clarke and 1 time he met her by a_simple_space_nerd

Wick wonders why Clarke Griffin is so special. He wonders how she could leave. He wonders how people could blame a girl for the way the world was. (This isn't slash, I'm just bad at summaries.)

None of Us is Innocent by amyhanmayari

It was early spring when Jasper went missing and a fortnight after that before he truly returned to Camp Jaha remotely resembling the boy with goggles who fell from the sky with a smile on his face. Whenever anyone asked him what happened during the two weeks when he was gone, he would crack a small, fragile smile and say “got lost, got found.” And that was that.

life in love can never last (everyone becomes the past) by a_simple_space_nerd

“Clarke,” Monty sighs, softly, all his frustration leaving him in a gust. “You’re dead. You in my dream, that’s my subconscious thinking about you while I sleep. That’s all.”

Clarke’s grin turns sharp. “Who says it’s your dream?”

(Grief is a funny thing, and everyone feels it.)

Do Better by juneytunes

Jasper wants to be Clarke's hero. Letting her get some rest in the drop ship is a good enough start. [ Jasper/Clarke FRIENDSHIP ]

Swim by Zaffie

Raven was a little girl who wanted to swim, and screw all those people who say she can't do it.

We Have All The Time In The World by Death_Shapeshifter

They were waiting, of course they were waiting. She was one of them. She was family. They would wait a thousand years for her.

The Griffin-Blake Family:

Lazy Mornings by these_dreams_go_on

Bellamy gets woken up by Madi and Clarke comes looking for her.

it's a chance we'll have to take by killianslonghaul

“You thought the person you loved was dead for six years and then found out she wasn’t. You can’t let that go. Not everyone gets a second chance like that.”

Bellarke reunion after Praimfaya and subsequent feelings

My Heart by QueenoftheWallflowers

Russell and the primes are gone and Bellamy and Clarke try to take a well-deserved nap. Confessions are made and forgiveness is given.

I can see clearly now by melodiousoblivian

6 years after they left Clarke behind, SpaceKru returns to find Clarke alive and thriving. Bellamy doesn't know how to cope.

No eligius, no becho.

little did you know by melodiousoblivian

"Six years later and they were on the ground. Raven saw her first, a flash of blonde hair in the trees, a startled yell, and she was running towards the dead girl. Clarke met her halfway and they collided, falling to the ground at the force of impact. Both were crying, running hands over each others faces to truly verify that they were here. Monty was next, holding Clarke so tight that she couldn't breathe. Harper simply rested her forehead against Clarke's. Murphy let out a rare laugh and embraced the girl he mourned. Echo and Emori greeted her kindly. Bellamy stood behind, frozen.

Monty saw the girl first, standing timidly at the edge of the group. She had hair the color of the night sky, and blue eyes that saw so deeply it was startling. Clarke introduced her as Madi, that she was Clarke's, and that was it."

A Solution by timelordlookingforatardis

Madi’s mouth was set in a thin line as she looked between the two men. Finally, setting on Jordan she announced, "I have a solution for our Prime problem.”

“Thank goodness,” Jordan beamed, moving over to join them as the table. Ignoring Bellamy’s wide-eyed protest, he said, “Tell me more.”

“It involves fire,” She started. Jordan nodded eagerly in front of her, “All -”

“Absolutely not!” Bellamy cut her off, “We are not attacking these people and destroying our chances for a better life!” He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, “They are going to teach us how to survive on this planet and then we are gone. We are not going to be the bad guys here!” He hissed.

POST 6X06 Madi, Jordan and Bellamy talk about what Clarke would've wanted.

My Home is With You by wake_n_Blake (kt_anasi)

When eight-year-old Octavia Blake is brought into the infirmary for her first check-up, Clarke gets the honor... and makes a friend.

Eventually, that friendship leads to a newfound family.

Or, the one where Clarke and Bellamy fall in love while basically raising Octavia on Earth.

Rated T for some crude language. This fic is like fluff on a stick- no angst... just happiness.

I'm Not Crying, You're Crying:

i'm on my knees, you're faith in shreds by stoneage_woman

"Over the roaring in his ears, Bellamy dimly registers Jackson telling Madi to breathe. His eyes are fixed on Clarke. Clarke, who for once isn’t even trying calm Madi down, who is visibly fighting to keep from breaking down herself, her head bowed low and her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

And Bellamy finally understands with an awful, damning clarity exactly how badly he’s fucked up."

Post Season 5 AU. As the last survivors of humanity try to make a fresh beginning on a new, deserted planet, Bellamy tries to find his way back to a lonely, distant Clarke. A life-threatening crisis opens his eyes to a few hard truths. A Bellarke reconciliation fic.

Set The Dark On Fire by theinvisibledisaster

Clarke isn't coping well with peacetime on the Eligius ship, and while Bellamy has woken some of the others (mainly spacekru) and tries to organise a trip to the ground, making decisions and considering all the variables, Clarke makes a choice of her own:

She'll take herself out of the equation.

OR: the post season 5 idea I had to write because all of the unresolved emotional turmoil this season is actually killing me and someone needs to notice that Clarke is in pain, for the love of god.

Monin hou by Ghelik

After Bellamy and Clarke negotiate with the grounders, they decide to share the bunker equally. 100 spots per clan. That marks the start of 5 years of forced peace in which mortal enemies have to learn how to live with each other.

Shit goes as expected.

Blanket of leaves by Ghelik

Madi tells the story of her life: from the moment mom found her to the descent of the Seven Heroes from the sky castle

Not Yet by Ghelik

Clarke finds Madi's body in their home.

Something in the Water by Youremyalways

“You know I love you, right?”

——

Clarke is supposed to die for killing Josephine, but things go wrong at the last second. Nobody is more equipped to help Clarke deal with losing a mother than Bellamy Blake.

This is How I Leave You by Africana123

Clarke decides to take her life after the events of season 6. Right as she's getting ready to do so, Jordan finds her. But it's not what you think.

Clarke Griffin Deserves Better:

Mighty Fine Shindig by theinvisibledisaster

An idea I had while rewatching Firefly, kinda based on the episode Shindig, but you definitely don't have to have watched it to read this, because I really took this in its own direction.

When they touch down on the new planet, the leaders throw a ball in their honour, which involves Clarke in a dress getting all the attention she deserves, Bellamy being very jealous and doing a terrible job of concealing it, and possibly getting into a fight over Clarke, so... everyone's fantasy?

Just mine?

Cool.

The Bruise Won't Heal (the stain stays put) by theinvisibledisaster

“What the hell is your problem, Clarke?” And this time, the tone was so disgusted, so bitter, than something snapped, deep in Clarke’s chest.

Fuck it.

“What’s my problem?” She asked, incredulous. “What’s my problem? You’ve got to be kidding me, Raven. I died. I died, paralysed and alone, and then I died again, and both times, the only person who cared was Bellamy. Kane died, my mother died, my daughter almost did- and you have the audacity to ask me what my problem is?!”

After they save everyone - again - they actually have a moment to rest.

And Clarke has had ENOUGH.

Hear me now (like you never heard me then) by evening_skies

A rewrite of Raven and Clarke’s scene in 6x04. Wherein Clarke does not regret the choices she made, and Raven wonders if the Clarke Griffin she remembers really did die in Praimfaya.

“Raven, I am not a leader,” Clarke said, and Raven’s words lodged in her throat. “I barely remember how to be a friend. I am a mother before all else, and you—you are the people that put monsters in my child’s head and threw her into the middle of a war.”

I accept that you may never forgive me. That’s okay. I don’t forgive you either.

Other Pairings:

In Darkness More than Light by lilybeth84

In the aftermath of the destruction of Mount Weather, with Clarke gone AWOL, his parents dead, and Jasper not speaking to him, Monty finds comfort in the dark forests beyond the walls of Camp Jaha.

One night, while in the grip of despair, he can't help wonder if life is worth living anymore. But his thoughts of death are interrupted when Clarke emerges from the woods, and he is forced to make decisions that will either save her-a woman he cares more deeply for than he ever realized-or lose her, and with her, a reason to survive.

Paradise Found by DAgron01

Octavia can't get enclosed again. Never again. She won't let them put her in cryo-freeze, but at least she's not alone...

Fix it fic--spoilers through season 5 finale! Canon-divergence

Love is Strength by DAgron01

Octavia Blake knew she was at least a little broken. She didn't plan on Clarke Griffin fixing her so thoroughly.

Canon compliant (and spoilers) through "Exit Wounds." Takes place immediately following when Madi officially becomes part of Wonkru.

Saving Clarke by btvscharmedgirl

Nearly a year after the hundred landed on the ground, Octavia watches Clarke struggle with all that happened and tries everything she can to help her in anyway she can.

As Galatea to Pygmalion by apolloadama

Clarke leaves Camp Jaha and rebuilds herself. Octavia and Lincoln help.

The Ties That Bind by Ofseaandsky

With more time to plan before the Death Wave hits, Clarke and Roan need to find a way to get the Coalition to work together and save more people to from the second Praimfaya. What will it take to get the 13 clans to work together and find a way to survive together as life on planet Earth rapidly approaches it's end?

and i'll love the world, like i should, for all the time that i never could by a_simple_space_nerd

And it’s now, of all times, that she lets herself finally, finally think: they’re up in space and I’m down on earth and even if I can survive this they’ll be up there for five years at minimum. I’m alone here.

It’s not as awful as she’d expected the revelation to be. Maybe it’s because she’s in the middle of the apocalypse but suddenly she doesn’t feel the need to curl into a ball and cry for days. Maybe it’s also the fact that she isn’t dead.

She’s still struggling not to get blown away, even sheltered as she is the ruins of some bank or something like it, the building creaking and groaning as the roaring typhoon thrashes its foundations. There’s dirt and grit flying everywhere, the dust so thick Clarke has to squint. The storm is taller than the highest skyscraper in the ruins, reaching down to the ground and back up to the sky for more fuel, thunder and lightning and everything in between all at once.

In this moment there is just Clarke and the storm and the end of the world and her uncertain future.

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buckitybarnes · 5 years

Text

Sticks, Stones, and Broken Bones [3] Bucky x Reader

Summary: When the Avengers catch wind of a HYDRA swarm at a local middle school, they’re there to see what’s up. What they find is beyond them. She’s mature for her age, she’s spunky and ready to bring the bad guys down to their knees, and most of all…she’s looking for her mom. They only want to help, but there are too many sides to this war, and very few you can trust. Bucky makes it a little more complicated when he experiences sympathy and becomes attached.

Warnings/Themes: violence/gore, Mentions of death, angst, fluff, Dad!Bucky, Reader is not the real mom, Nice uncle stevie and gang, Soft boi, humor, profanity, Mentions of a terrorist attack/school attack.

Author’s Note: -

Last Chapter

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Chapter 3: Firecracker

A feisty little fireball…

That’s exactly what Bucky thinks of you. Even with you yelling at him and threatening everyone else in this room, he regards you with a smirk.

Bruce was nervously grounding himself in the corner, unable to think clearly with your loud talking. For once, Tony remains silent. He stares with a disapproving scowl before moving to the computers and typing away in a search engine. Mable, who wandered back in after a few minutes, innocently finishes her snack, unfazed by your rambling.

And Bucky….well, Bucky thought it was rather adorable to a certain point. He made it verbally clear too. The incredulous look on your face only gave him deeper satisfaction.

“And at what point would that be?” you challenge, ready to set this big oaf aflame.

“Keep pushing me and we might reach it, Doll.”

The pet name and the amusement behind his eyes make your blood boil.

Before you can knock him out, the door hisses open and in steps Captain America.

“That’s enough,” he demands, throwing Bucky a pointed glare.

Clearly catching his disappointment, Bucky’s eyebrows furrow. “She started it,” he accuses.

“And you’re both ending it,” Steve deflects, shaking his head. There was no room for argument.

You huff in annoyance. Something about Steve’s authoritative manner made you back down instantly. Clearly, he was called the Captain for a reason.

He gestures for Mable to get up out of her chair and she doesn’t hesitate, sauntering over to her new friend. While you had been gone, she was quick to find her allies here in the tower.

“Bucky, why don’t you make Mae some lunch while Miss [Y/L/N] and I talk?”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue but shuts it quickly after the look Steve gives him. He gives you one last glare before holding his hand out to Mable. She wraps her small hand around his and follows, throwing you an apologetic smile.

As soon as the two leave the room, you turn to the Captain and huff. “I’m gonna flip my shit.”

“Looks like you’re past that stage,” Steve teases, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. He sighs tiredly and gestures for you to sit. “Let’s talk.”

“About what, exactly?”

Tony butts in this time, relieved that Steve has calmed you down somewhat. “About you and your little girl. About who you are and what you should be doing to make sure your ass isn’t caught by Hydra again.” He holds a finger up when you begin to speak. “I let you barge in here, Cupcake, but I can certainly throw you back out.”

The spinning stool screeches slightly when you sit. Your cold glare does not waver underneath his own.

“You’re clearly not safe at home.”

You shake your head. “It’s called a ‘Safe House’ for a reason. Besides, we weren’t attacked at home.”

Tony nods once to Bruce, who picks up a tablet from his desk and places it in your hands. In front of you sits live footage of the outside of your house.

It’s on fire.

Poetic irony is what you would call it if you weren’t so angry. That house was your pride and joy. You helped build it from the ground up and ever since you and Mable moved in, it had become a safe-haven.

Or so you thought.

You can see Hydra agents scurrying out, holding close possessions and photos. You can see one shake their head, probably confirming that you indeed were not home. When you see red and blue lights approaching from a distance, you observe them as they sneakily make their way out from the crime scene.

“How the fuck do you have cameras on it….”

“Your kid’s backpack has your address and I did a little Googling. Was able to send out a droid. Times are changing. Technology is advancing,” he says dryly.

“How did they find it?”

Tony shakes his head. “Beats me.” He taps the table, calling for your attention, and when you look up, he smiles sadly. “Listen, I’m sorry that this is happening, but you have to change your strategy.”

Seeing the ruins of your house, your shoulders slump in defeat. You weren’t cut out for this. You needed professional help. “What are you suggesting, Stark?”

“Until we can get Hydra off of your backs or at least figure out why they’re after you, you’re gonna have to find another place to be safe.”

“I don’t do crowds. I couldn’t live in the complex.”

“Wasn’t suggesting the complex. It’s an obvious space. It’s way too risky.” He pulls out a key from the keyring in his pocket and hands it to you. “I’ve got a beach house in Nags Head. Used to go there all the time as a getaway. It’s yours for now.”

You slowly pluck the key from his hand and frown. “Anyone know where this place is?”

He hums lowly. “Me, Pepper, Rogers, and now you and little Mable.” He eyes you with a sharp gaze. “Of course, you’re no Avenger....”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t protect myself out there.”

His smile turns into a crooked smirk. “Sure, but I also gotta make sure you don’t wreck my vacation home and you never know when you’ll need the extra hand.”

For once, you back down. He had a point, again, If you almost lost Mable in a school shooting, who knows what could happen if you weren’t prepared for the next attack? “Alright….who’s it gonna be?”

Mable comes rushing back in, and you turn away too quickly to see the wicked smirk on Tony’s face.

She grins from ear-to-ear as if none of the earlier events happened. “Hey! Did you know we’re having the Winter Soldier as our bodyguard?!”

Your stomach drops in pure dread.

“Absolutely not --”

You’re cut off when an empty backpack comes flying out from behind Mable and hits you square in the face. As it falls to the ground, you see Bucky poke his head inside, smiling in faux innocence.

“Can we go grocery shopping first? Need food. So much food.”

You deadpan at him before looking at Tony. “Why?” He has his back turned to you, trying to rub off some of the soot you left on the ground with a paper towel under his shoes. “Well, to be honest, he’s the trash of this group. We dispose of him before anyone else.”

Surprisingly, Bucky sniggers. It’s been a while since he’s made amends with the billionaire. The jabs exchanged between the two now are a part of their new awkward friendship.

You roll your eyes and stand from your seat, stomping over to Mable and the walking tin can.

Oh, how you hoped for a quick solution to this situation.

“There’s one more thing,” Tony calls out, stopping you in your tracks.

Never in any press conference or footage have you seen Tony Stark so cold.

It feels like you’re talking to a different man entirely.

“While you were busy cursing up a storm, I ran some scans. A girl got her father’s powers of combustion and at a young age became a delinquent because she couldn’t handle being different. When he passed away she started committing arson. Jumped from city to city and she’s only been caught once burning down a big politician’s house, but then she escaped and they couldn’t catch her. Ring any bells?”

You’re not only taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you were livid. He was overwhelming you, throwing everything that you’ve ever tried to hide back in your face, and out of absolutely nowhere.

“Where the hell are you going with this?” In actuality, you knew exactly where he was going with this. You knew this man liked to have the upper hand. He enjoyed being in control, it made him feel safe.

It also meant that he saw you as a detriment, and if your suspicions were correct, you had nothing to bite back with. “You don’t know everything, I started doing that shit because --”

“Because what? Because you wanted to watch the world burn when it turned against you?”

“Tony,” Steve interjects, shaking his head tersely. He reminded you that you and Tony weren’t the only ones in the room. Everyone was just silent as they absorbed the shocking information “That’s not necessary.”

Tony clears his throat, clearly caught up in the heat of the moment. He didn’t know you, but from what he did gather, he didn’t like what you were doing. Something just snapped within him after holding back from you this entire encounter.

The idea of lashing out just because you had a bad childhood was insanely infuriating. If he can help it, he wouldn’t let Mable end up like you. He could shape her into a hero.

He eyes you and you eye him. A silent agreement is made to put this distaste for each other on hold.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he starts. With a small gesture to Mable, who is currently hiding behind Bucky, he sighs deeply. “We’ve got Wanda here that can help Mable control her powers. I’m not asking you to do any dirty work, but I am asking you to lay low for a while. No job. No school. Homeschooling is always an option.”

“You want us to give it all up?” you ask. “As if our whole world hasn’t already been flipped upside down?”

“If I’m being completely honest, I only want to keep her from becoming something we don’t want: another problem.”

That main problem was you.

But that wasn’t fair. Not at all.

You stopped committing crimes, learned to harness your powers. You started living a completely normal life before all of this, and now, he was projecting his hate of your previous wrongdoings onto a different situation.

You know for a fact that Mable didn’t have to use her abilities. She could lock them up and have a better childhood than yours.

But was it fair to make the decision for her?

You give Tony and Steve one last glance before turning back around.

“Give me some time to think about it,” you demand.

“The sooner she starts training, the better she becomes at controlling it,” Tony answers.

You storm past Bucky, making your way towards the car.

Hesitantly, Mable follows, busy with her own thoughts on the issue at hand.

The ride to North Carolina was anything but exciting.

Tony suggested you took a car instead of a jet to remain more incognito. So, here you are in the passenger’s seat of a black Land Rover. Mable’s in the back with her seatbelt on, but you’re still worried due to Bucky’s inconsistent driving.

Sometimes he drags, allowing cars to pass by (some drivers angrier than others). Sometimes, he floors it out of nowhere, and you’re not sure if it’s on purpose. Either way, you wanted to confront Steve about his best friend’s horrible driving skills.

“Hey,” Mable calls out, cutting through the sounds of the radio.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks first, earning a confused glare from you.

Mable throws Bucky a dashing smile before turning completely towards you. “I was thinking….Mr.Stark said that Wanda could help me with my powers…”

“We’ll talk about it later, Mable,” you mutter tiredly, leaning your head against the window. You don’t see Bucky raising an eyebrow at you.

He had his own opinions about the situation, but he knew he was out of place to say anything. Still, he thought that training Mable was for the best. She didn’t even have to use her powers, and if worse comes to worst, she had something to protect herself with.

He feels for the kid. God knows it took him years after Hydra to fully accept his super-serum capabilities and the damn hunk of metal replacing his arm. It had to be a huge stress on a child to have dangerous powers at this age.

“But it’s important! She knows how to --”

“Mable,” You cut in sternly. “I said we’ll talk about this later.”

She makes a noise of frustration before going silent. You don’t have to peer over to know she’s swallowing a lump in her throat and trying her best not to cry.

It pains you to see her so crushed about the situation, but the pressure was dragging you down with it.

The sudden move, Tony digging up your dirty secrets, and the thought that you’d have someone to babysit you just gave you the biggest headache. You needed to collect yourself, and right now, the only place to do it was in your new house in your new room.

“Fuck,” you growl under your breath.

You had opened your bag to look for one of the magazines you were reading earlier.

You left it back at home.

And now it was gone, burned away with every other belonging.

You don’t know why, but you start tearing up, your throat burning and your vision blurring.

It was a magazine. A stupid, ‘Here’s your latest Celebrity Gossip’ magazine, but the thought of losing something to a housefire reminded you that you lost everything to that damn housefire.

You didn’t even have much of your clothes.

The only things in your bag were your wallet, some miscellaneous snacks, a t-shirt and sweats for after work, and a set of keys to that very house.

“You alright?” Bucky asks. He bites his bottom lip. For once, concern fills his features. He’s used to being in the middle of a cross-fire, but it makes him nervous no less.

“It’s fine,” you answer, trying to assure him as much as you try to assure yourself. “It’s just a stupid magazine I left at home.”

The dismissive tone in your voice stops his words from leaving his own mouth. He hums in understanding, turning up the radio to fill the heavy quiet with some music.

Bucky Barnes listened to classical music. He says it calms him down and chases away the bad thoughts.

And he’s right.

The soft piano notes fill your head as you watch the scenery fly by from outside the window.

At least you get a new start, even if it is not the first.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #The Avengers #the avengers x reader #White Wolf #the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader #MCU fanfiction #mcu #marvel #fluff #angst #series #wolf writes

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