#personally i think they should be a dysfunctional thruple | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

Everything.

AN: Anya didn’t ask for this, okay? Characters: Anya kom Trikru, Lexa kom Trikru, Pairing(s): Anya x reader Spoiler(s): Season 2 plot points Warning(s): None

Prompt: “so Anya kom Trikru x Skaikru!reader where reader escapes the mountain with Anya and Clarke. Anya is not shot so she manages to get to heda. the treaty is in place and reader becomes Anya`s second learning how to fight. reader one day hears how other grounders call Anya "gona heda" and after discovering what it means reader starts calling Anya like that too, and it does things to Anya. just Anya taking a liking to Skaikru girl and slowly but surely falling in love with her.” for anon

-----------------------

Anya had never asked for any of this, okay? That’s what she told herself every time it happened; she didn’t volunteer for this, so she couldn’t be blamed, not really. Except she did kind of, but she couldn’t have-she didn’t-

“Anya!” You called, all bright smiles and warmth as you jogged over, “there you are! I was getting worried.”

You looked so strong, she noted fondly, with your hair braided and your bright eyes framed by dark smears of war paint. Now, when you moved, there was an ease to it, like you were confident and sure of yourself, miles and miles away from the frightened girl she’d met on the battlefield all those weeks ago. If she’d known then how strong you were, how much you had endured...maybe things would have turned out different, maybe she could have spared you this-

Anya shook her head, snapping herself back to the present.

Her heart pinched, but she managed to keep her face neutral, “That’s not necessary, Y/N. I had a meeting with the commander, she’s mustering our forces to take the mountain.”

Your face fell for a moment, just long enough for Anya to wish that she could take the words back, swallow them whole so that they could never touch you again, before you schooled them back to impassivity.

“We’re going back?” You asked, hiding the faint quiver in your voice as best you could as you instinctively gripped the handle of your sword.

Anya sighed and, before she could think better of it, reached out to grasp your shoulder. As always, her stomach did a funny little flip when she touched you and she fought the urge to run away and hide.

“Yes, we’re going back,” she said gently, “but it won’t be like last time. This time we’ll be taking the fight to them.” she paused, leaning in, “This time, they’ll be running from us.”

She could tell you were still nervous, that you wanted her to say more, to comfort you and quell your anxiety but, nonetheless, your answering smile was defiant and, to Anya’s relief, you simply bowed and muttered that you’d better join the other seconds on patrol, and bounded off, leaving Anya alone to ponder her own discomfort. She followed your movement with her eyes without meaning to, smiling to herself when she saw you shove one of the other seconds to the ground playfully and offer him a hand up.

Your laugh cut through the afternoon air like a bell, like you were daring the world to take you on, daring it to try and take your happiness from you. It carried a bittersweet nostalgia with it, and Anya couldn’t help but think back to the first time she’d ever heard you laugh like that.

-------------------

“The ground here is too soft,” Anya growled, “we’re leaving tracks.”

“If you know a better way to get to my people, I’m all ears,” Clarke shot back, “but, if not, then please just shut up.”

Anya opened her mouth to say something cutting but, before she could, you cut in.

“Guys,” You groaned, “please don’t start this again. I’m so sick of the fighting.”

“Tell her that!” Clarke said, gesturing to Anya, “She’s the one who’s never happy with anything.”

“We’re covered in mud, wandering through the woods in circles and eating raw squirrel for dinner while our people get drained for their blood, Clarke,” Anya pointed out, “there’s not much to be happy with.”

There was a moment of silence and then a sound, so pure and clear that it sent a literal chill down Anya’s spine. You were laughing, really laughing, with your head thrown back, until tears started streaming down your cheeks, leaving thin trails of skin visible through the mud. A second later Clarke joined in, her voice harmonizing with yours like a brook stumbling over stones. How long had it been since Anya had heard someone laugh like that? She couldn’t even remember.

“We’re so screwed,” you said through your laughter, “what the hell is even happening anymore, does anyone know?”

Against her better judgement, Anya felt a twinge of humor in her throat, bubbling up until she was laughing right alongside you. The tension dissolved into a weary sort of camaraderie, a sort of silent acknowledgement that you were in this together, that you needed one another. It was almost how fighting alongside her own people felt, Anya admitted to herself, and it gave her hope that maybe peace was possible after all.

“We were at war like three weeks ago,” you laughed, “and now we’re bickering like some weird dysfunctional married thruple.”

“What is a thruple?” Anya asked.

“It’s like a couple, but with three people,” Clarke explained, wiping her eyes, “which is insane ‘cause I’m way out of your league, Y/N.”

You gasped in mock outrage, “You wish, Griffin. You could do a thousand times worse than Anya and me.”

“Oh really?” Clarke teased.

“Yes, really. I’m a hot commodity, I’m prime girlfriend material, right Anya?”

Blood rushed to Anya’s face, but she was confident that you couldn’t see it under all the mud. You were teasing, she knew that, it was light and playful but, even so, Anya felt a little flustered at the question.

“Yes,” she eventually said, trying desperately to remember her english, “Y/N would be a good partner. She’s strong and brave.”

Your face softened, like you were surprised by her answer but, before you could say anything, Clarke cleared her throat.

“Alright Hot Stuff. We should find somewhere to spend the night,” she said, looking between you and Anya curiously, “it’ll be getting dark soon.”

You agreed and started back on your trek. Clarke took the lead, as usual, with you and Anya keeping watch. As Anya walked, keeping an eye of the rear like she always did, you slowed down, falling into step beside her. For a while you walked together in silence, Anya’s heart pounding in her chest as she racked her brain, trying to figure out if she'd said something wrong or offensive by mistake.

“You really think I’m brave?” You asked eventually.

Anya’s muscles relaxed and she exhaled quietly, “Of course. You are brave, Y/N. I watched you take on a fully grown reaper with nothing but a stick, just to buy Clarke and me time. I don’t know many people who would’ve done the same.”

“Not even other grounders?”

Anya shrugged, “You can’t teach someone that kind of bravery. No matter how good you are with a sword, if you’re a coward, you’re a coward, it’s as simple as that.”

“I didn’t feel brave,” you admitted, looking determinedly ahead with your hair obscuring your face, “I was terrified.”

Anya felt a pang of empathy in her chest, “We all were. Fear isn’t the opposite of courage, Y/N. You can’t have one without the other. You risked your life to protect an enemy from a horrible death, anyone who sees that and still calls you a coward knows nothing of true bravery.

A shadow of a smile flickered across your face, “Thanks, Anya. That means a lot coming from you.”

You nudged her shoulder with hers and Anya felt the casual touch like a sledgehammer in her chest. It had been so long since she’d felt close to another person, so long since someone had been gentle with her.

“Y/N,” she blurted out without thinking, “if-if you want to learn to defend yourself-how to fight like I do-when we reach your people and secure an alliance with the commander-I am in need of a second…”

“A second?” You asked, stopping in your tracks, “Like a second in command?”.

Anya avoided your eye, suddenly deeply embarrassed.

“Yes,” she said, inspecting the horizon for all she was worth, “I’d teach you how to fight, how to implement effective battle strategy, how to lead…” she trailed off, “but it is a lot of work. You’d have to train every day and really dedicate yourself to learning our language and culture so, if you’re unsure-”

Before she could finish, the air was knocked out of her lungs by your sudden embrace. You held her tight and Anya felt her heart skip a beat.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said with a breathless laugh, “yes, thank you, Anya. I won’t let you down, I swear it.”

“I know.”

--------------------------

And you hadn’t, at least not yet. You’d thrown yourself into training with more ferocity and determination than anyone Anya had ever known, never letting injury or exhaustion wear you down. You’d challenged her, inspired her and somehow, despite her best efforts to the contrary, had wormed your way into her heart. She cared about you, deeply, more than she could remember caring about anyone in years. What had really done it was your heart, your gentleness and your courage, none of which ever seemed to waiver or crack, even in the face of overwhelming odds. When the other seconds had rejected you, you’d proven yourself to them by working harder, going further, catching more prey, all the while treating them with respect and keeping your dignity. When Lexa had been storming and raging over the massacre at Ton DC and had threatened to kill you in retaliation, you hadn’t cowered or hid behind Anya for protection, you’d stood tall and proud and let her rage and, when she had calmed down, you’d looked her in the eye and told her that you were sorry for her loss, and that you would do whatever it took to make it right.

Anya knew that life as her second hadn’t been easy, that a large part of you had wanted to go to Camp Jaha with Clarke and see your friends again but, despite it all, you were still there. Every morning you got up and did your job, getting stronger and deadlier by the day and reminding Anya a thousand times over why she wanted you to lead one day.

Only, at some point it had moved past that. She couldn’t quite pinpoint when; the exact moment that she’d realised how in danger she was with you, but it had happened. She had a vague idea that it might have been on one of the many nights that you’d returned to her from training covered in blood and bruises and Anya had felt her heart tighten with worry, but it didn’t matter. The fact was, Anya didn’t just want you to follow in her footsteps anymore, she wanted to walk beside you; to hold your hand and tell you about her life, to come home from battle and kiss the bruises on your skin until they faded away, to wrap you in pelts in the winter and find out what you tasted like. She wanted you to be hers, and she wanted to be yours and it made her feel shaky and unsure.

Anya had never been the best with feelings. She was a warrior, a decorated and well respected general, but she’d always been alone. On the battlefield she was sure of herself, confident and unyielding but, when it came to you...she felt like a helpless child.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anya saw Lexa stalk towards her and the two women stood together in companionable silence, watching the army train and prepare for battle.

“She’s strong,” Lexa commented, tilting her head in your direction, “she’ll be an asset in our war with the mountain, if you can bring yourself to let her go.”

“I won’t need to,” Anya shot back, a note of protectiveness in her voice, “Y/N will not die, she’s a true warrior, she’ll be fine.”

Lexa observed her old mentor critically, noticing how tense Anya suddenly looked, as though she was preparing herself for a fight, preparing herself to defend something she-

“You love her,” Lexa commented, wondering how she hadn’t noticed sooner.

For a moment Anya was silent.

“I….care about her,” she eventually admitted.

“You love her,” Lexa said again, “and you will die for her if needs be.”

Anya pursed her lips, “It won’t come to that.”

Just then the horn that signified the end of the day blew and you jogged back to Anya, doing a double take when you noticed Lexa standing beside her.

“Heda,” you greeted with a bow.

When you straightened up Lexa walked over, clapped your shoulder affectionately and whispered something in your ear too low for Anya to make out. Anya felt her heartbeat start to pick up nervously as she watched you blush, shoot her a look and then give Lexa a shaky nod. Lexa shot Anya a knowing look and walked away, headed to the dining area to greet her troops and leaving you and Anya alone on the hill.

“How was your training,” she asked, trying to inspect your body for injuries without being too obvious.

“Hard,” you admitted, shifting your weight and wincing as you twisted to look at Anya.

Anya frowned, feeling that tinge of concern again as she turned and slung an arm around you to support your weight. You insisted that you were fine but she ignored you, taking you back to the campsite you shared and sitting you down next to the fire.

“What happened?” she asked, fussing about your side, where she could see a poorly hidden bloodstain.

“Nothing!” You insisted, “Just a sparring match that went bad, that’s all.

“Y/N, it feels like your ribs are broken,” Anya pointed out, “and you’re bleeding.”

“Okay, a sparring match that went really bad,” you amended with a gentle laugh, lifting Anya’s hands off your side and forcing her to sit back, “I’ll heal. It’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of broken ribs, right gona heda?”

Anya’s eyes flicked to yours, her heart skipping a beat as the words you’d said started to sink in. Gona heda, warrior commander. It was a name she’d had amongst her people for a while now but, hearing you say it, hearing your voice wrap around the syllables of her language like that….it made Anya feel strange. It was intimate and sinful, like melted honey on warm skin or the feeling of crushed velvet under fingertips.

“Gona heda?” you asked again, your voice low and soft.

Gods above. She could hear her own blood in her ears as her skin flushed. You were so close, so distractingly close that it made Anya feel a quiet sort of desperation she couldn’t name.

She cleared her throat, dabbing a cloth in disinfectant and going back to treating your wounds, “Where-um-” her eyes flickered to you again, “where did you hear that name?”

You shrugged, “Some of the others call you that,” you explained, “and I like how it sounds.” you paused and Anya became very aware that her hands were shaking as they traced the mottled bruises on your skin, “Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” Anya said quickly, “No, I like the way it sounds too,” she admitted and then, before she could stop herself, “but only when you say it.”

Silence. It was painful and tense and cloying and Anya wanted nothing more than to tear it to shreds, take out some of the adrenaline in her system on that horrible oppressive nothingness, but she didn’t.

“Only when I say it,” you repeated, just short of breathlessly.

Anya pressed her lips together but nodded, avoiding your gaze as she inspected your ribs. Suddenly you shifted so that you were crouched next to her, forcing her to meet your eye.

“What else do you like it when I say, gona heda?” You asked, your face so close that Anya could smell the metallic blood from your split lip.

She swallowed hard, infuriated by how calm and in control you seemed while she felt like she was drowning in fear and poorly suppressed desire. Your gaze was steady, heavy and expectant and it made Anya’s skin feel hot and prickly under her armor.

“My name,” she eventually said, “I-” she swallowed again, “I like how it sounds.”

You were almost smiling now, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkling in a way that gave you away and released some of the tension that had been building.

“Anything else?” You asked, tilting your head to the side and leaning in just close enough to make Anya feel lightheaded.

“I like how you laugh,” Anya heard herself say from far away, “and how much you swear, and when you hum songs I’ve never heard and-” she broke off and let out a nervous laugh, “everything. I like the way you say everything.”

You hummed happily and absentmindedly reached out to touch one of Anya’s braids.

“I guess Lexa was right,” you said, your eyes already trained on Anya’s mouth.

“About what?”

You smiled, warm and tender and loving, “About everything.”

And when you kissed her, Anya swore nothing had ever felt so right.

#jordsie #jordsie writes #The 100 #the 100 aesthetic #the 100 cw #the 100 imagine #the 100 fanfiction #anya kom trikru #anya kom trikru x reader #anya kom trikru x you #anya x reader #anya x you #anya kom trikru imagine #anya imagine

96 notes · View notes