#clark's dumbfounded look <3

[stardustinthesky]

The first date.

#lois and clark: the new adventures of superman #clois #clark x lois #lois lane #clark kent #lnc: tnaos #m: lnc #mine: edits #otp: you are way out of your league #clark's dumbfounded look <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Assistant 10

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.

Characters: Clark Kent

Note: I had to get this out of my head.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

🖊🖊🖊

You drop your phone, shaking with panic and horror. It’s not real. It can’t be. Lois isn’t dead, it’s just an argument, just a fight. You don’t know what you saw.

You were so surprised by the call, you can’t possibly have understood what was going on. It was just so sudden. It didn’t happen.

You stand dumbfounded, unsure what to do next. There's a sickening silence filled with the echoes of Lois' struggle and the piercing timbre of Clark's wrath. You shudder and it rolls through the floor. It takes you a moment to realise that the reverberations are really. Your phone vibrates violently between your feet.

Shit! Shit! What do you do? 

You grab it out of instinct but can't bring yourself to answer the call, knowing before you look who it is. You search the room as if you might find an escape. There is none.

You rush to the bed and shut off the lamp, casting yourself in darkness. You don't think, you let your adrenaline guide you. You roll under your blankets and nestle down, clearing your throat as the call times out. Fuck.

It isn't long before the rattle begins again. You wait a few rings and answer, the small frame where you should be filled with shadow. You murmur groggily, not sure how convincing you really are.

"Hmm, what's going on?" You babble as you rustle in the bed. Clark watches you with an addled expression, his brows furrowed, his eyes almost seem to glow.

"I just called," he gristles out ans rubs the apple in his throat, "you picked up…"

"Wha–I've been sleeping," you cough, pressing yourself into the pillow as your ball your other hand. Your heartbeat hammers in your temples, "my phone was in my bed, maybe…"

"Sleeping?" He mutters as a line dips in his forehead.

"I was waiting for your call and must've fallen asleep," you utter.

"Turn your light on," he demands.

You wince, happy he can't see the fear coursing through you. Now is the real test, you have to play this right. You sit up, doing your best to mess up your appearance before you reach to the lamp. 

"I've been sick all day," you lie and lean back against the headboard, "sorry…"

He's quiet. You try not to look at your image in the corner, instead you focus on him. He's trying to figure it all out.

"Baby," you make your voice as soft as you can, "maybe it's going around. Are you feeling alright?"

He seems struck my the question. He swallows and there's a shift as he sits down, letting out a sigh. He flicks a curl away from his forehead.

"Maybe," he relents as his shoulders drop, "you miss me?"

You stare into the deep blue pools of his eyes. You don't know if he believes you. You put your hand below your throat, his gaze follows the gesture. You rub your chest and force another cough.

"Ugh, yeah," you make yourself lie, "I just feel so cruddy."

"Aw, honey, I wish I was there to take care of you. Maybe I can come home early," he offers, "things aren't going so well here. Lois… is off doing her own thing. I may as well have just stayed behind."

"Oh," you try not to react to her name, "I'm sorry–"

"Sorry…" he repeats, quiet but with a hint of resent, "she… you… you're too sweet." He moves his phone as he hangs his head, "you care so much about me, I just wish… wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Just… get some sleep," you coax, "I'm sure we'll both feel better in the morning."

"You're probably right," he croaks and sits up with a deep snort, "hard to sleep without you here."

"Yeah, I know," you eke out.

"Will you… will you stay on until I fall asleep?" He asks, almost pathetic as his tone cracks.

"Sure," you whisper, "I'll stay on."

You fight the swell of fear deep in your stomach and turn onto your side. You watch the screen as he stands and moves around slowly, almost as if he's dazed. You focus on breathing, on counting each inhale and letting it out slow. You try not to think of what he could do to you if he knew what you saw. 

🖊

You don't sleep. Not even after you end the call at Clark's rumbling snores. You just sit there and stare at the shadows cast against your wall.

You can't just wait for him to come back. This might be your only chance. Didn't this all start because you were afraid of just that, missing a once in a lifetime chance.

You get up before the sun. You don't have a plan, just a first step. One you're not even sure is a good idea.

You draft your resignation and schedule it to be sent on Monday. You pack a single bag, not much, just what you need, and leave your apartment with your phone in hand. You won't miss it, he tainted it.

You head down to the street and walk a full block before working up your courage. You don't know if you should even try. He has no obligation to you. You wouldn't blame him for laughing in your face. But… he was nice.

You hit Richard's profile and wait for the dial to pick up. It's late, or early. You lean against a building as you watch the sky change.

"Brant," he answers with his last name, voice sandy and thick.

"Hey," you squeak, second thoughts bubbling up, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't–"

"What's wrong?" He asks, his languid tone rising to urgency, "hey, what's going on?"

"I… I can't…"

You can't tell him. Even with how much you want to. You can't say the words and he wouldn't believe you. Who would? 

"It's… barely three," he yawns, "must be important, so…"

"I…" you sniffle and drag yourself away from the wall, "I need help and you're… the only person I know…"

"You know, I've had a lot of writer's ask me for favours, but they're usually a lot more to the point–"

"I need to hide," you blurt out, "please, before he gets back."

"Who?" He asks.

You're silent. You can't get your thoughts straight. You don't blame him for thinking you're crazy, you must sound it.

"Kent," he says bluntly and you quiver. "What did he do to you?"

You don't answer. He says your name. You can't. You feel like your choking.

"Where are you?" He demands and you can hear him shifting and moving around. 

"I shouldn't have–"

"Tell me," he says as fabric rustles beneath his gravelly voice. 

You whimper and look around. You're by some pawn shop. You give him the name and he sighs.

"Stay there," he orders over the jingle of keys, "please."

🖊

You're numb as you sit in the passenger seat of Richard's car. You remember the last time you were in that very spot. When he dropped you off after dinner and Clark was waiting for you. How long had he truly been waiting to strike? 

How could it have ever got to this?

Richard drives without a word. You barely recall him arriving or getting into the car. Everything around you is blurry. Your own hands feel like weights attached to your arms.

The car slows as you sink back against the seat. His window rolls down with a whir you barely hear. You don't look. He continues on, the motion soothing as you close your eyes and hiccup.

He idles again, motor humming as he daintily touches your arm.

"Got you a tea," he says gently, "hey, take a breath."

Your eyes snap open and you wipe your face, only realising then you're sobbing. You sit forward and sniff, inhaling until it hurts. He lifts a cup from the plastic holder and offers it. You accept it with a murmur and peel back the lid.

"You don't have to go into detail but I'd like to know what is going on," he says as he puts his hand back on the wheel, slowly stepping down on the gas.

You blow out a shuddery heave and gulp. You sip tenuously, wetting your throat as you try to sort through your thoughts. Where do you begin? What do you even say?

"He's scary," your voice creaks, "he's dangerous…" you shake your head and cradle the tea, trying to feel the heat of the cup, trying to cling to it. "He won't leave me alone."

"I kinda figured but Clark's just a bit strange, isn't he?" Richard says, "office flirt."

"It's more than that, he's…insane!"

"He's married, he's not going to do anything more than talk," he scoffs.

Your chest cranks and your stomach lurches. You look at him, sight pinpointing on him, "you…"

"A bit of an overreaction–"

"Why did you come if you don't believe me?"

"Believe what? I have no idea what's gone on. By the sounds of it, he's only having some fun on the side."

"Fun?! He– he is stalking me. He won't go away and now–" you stop short and huff. His chuckle makes you want to scream. He's laughing at you.

"You're laughing at me?" You reach for the door, "stop the car. Now. Let me out."

"It just seems a bit absurd, calling me at the crack of dawn because you have a horndog for a boss–"

"You're not listening to me. It's not just that," you insist, your body buzzing with anger. "Stop the car. Let me out. You–"

"Calm down. Fine, I'm all ears, did he get handsy at the water cooler?"

"Just stop the car."

"Don't be–"

"Stop!" You fling the cup at him and it lands in his lap, exploding and leaking down his pants.

He veers in surprise and the car slides sideways. Suddenly, your seat jolts as something falls onto the roof, crushing it so you're forced down in your seat. You look up and whine, fumbling to undo your seatbelt as a red glare slices through the metal.

Sparks rain down as the laser changes directions, confusion stirring your wits as you watch in dread and sink down onto the floor of the car. Richard grunts beside you and jams his fingers into the buckle of his seatbelt, swearing as it repels.

"What the fuck was that? Fucking–" he gestures to his wet pants in frustration, clueless to what's happening above him.

The metal peels back loudly as you cry out. You shield yourself and holler for Richard to watch out as you see the eerie figure floating above in the half-dim of the early morning. His eyes glow red and his veins are dark beneath his skin. Yet this is not Superman in his rippling cape but a villain in an undone button-up and slacks. It's Clark!

The vaunted caped crusader, the saviour of Metropolis and earth, the elusive good citizen. All along, he's just another twisted monster. He's a nightmare come to life. 

He tosses aside the shorn square of metal as if it's nothing. He grabs Richard and wrenches him off the seat, clutching his jaw and dangling him like a ragdoll. Richard writhes and squirms as Clark's eyes flash. Suddenly a red beam sears into Richard's skull and a rain of bone and tissue tain down around you.

You shriek in terror as blood oozes down onto the interior and Clark drops Richard's corpses into the ruin. His feet plant on the hood and he bends, reaching blindly down to grab you from beneath the dashboard. He hauls you up effortlessly by your arm, lifting you before him as his eyes continue to flare.

You grasp onto his thick forearm as you hang from his unbending grip, "you're supposed to be a hero…" you gasp in disbelief.

"And you're supposed to love me," he snarls.

You close your eyes and raise your arm, waiting for your turn. This is it. The end.

"But I love you," his voice shatters.

He snakes his arm around you and pulls you close. The world bounces and the air tunnels around you. A scream erupts from your lungs as you barrel into the void.

You bury your head in his shoulder, peeking out from the slits of your eyes to see the vast and endless sky all around you. You're flying yet you've never felt so trapped.

#dark clark kent #dark!fic #series #fic #dark fic #clark kent x reader #clark kent #dark!clark kent #the assistant #dc #superman

[truthofherdreams]

children of the apocalypse (3)

also on ao3

Clarke spends the next couple of days tending to Wells and Jasper and dealing with minor cuts and scratches the other teenagers get around camp. Bellamy’s ban on weapons seems to be working somehow, for everyone is a little more peaceful with each other as routine settles in. Teams are created for hunting, building of tents and a wall, and other chores around the dropship. It’s not perfect, and fights break out more often than not, but it is definitely an improvement on the chaos of their first moments on Earth.

She’s cleaning Jasper’s wound – now relocated to the ground floor with the rest of them so he and Monty can chat away while Monty works on their comm system – when Finn enters the dropship. He makes his way toward Wells, and the two of them lean over the table to look at something.

Clarke frowns.

“I think that’s enough, Clarke,” Jasper tells her.

She looks down at his wound, realises she’s been rubbing it a bit too forcefully – the redness of his skin less about the fever now, and definitely about her lack of bedside manners. She mumbles an apology before she grabs another piece of cloth that she wraps around his torso.

She pats his arm without really looking, before she stands up and moves toward the other two boys.

“Whatcha talking about?” she asks cheerily, startling them both.

They offer her twin looks of surprise, too focused on their discussion to notice her coming. That’s when Clarke sees what they were discussing, the old map she had used on their very first day to find her way to Mount Weather. Only now a bunch more scribbles are added to the paper. She frowns.

“Nothing much…” Finn starts, leaning back with his hands in his pockets.

Wells is not that slick. “Looking for a better place to settle.”

Clarke blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

He points to the map, the big dot that represents the dropship, the slithering lines that make up the newly formed rivers, the most dangerous parts of the forest. She knew Finn had made a habit of sneaking out of camp already, but now it makes sense – they were updating the map, one landmark at a time.

“Our location isn’t exactly the best in the long run,” Wells explains. “If we want to build a proper settlement, the ground here is too uneven. We’re too far from fresh water too, which would be bad for agriculture, according to Monty. And we want some clearing, so we can establish a proper… town, I guess? Village?”

Clarke looks down at the map again, frowning slightly. She hadn’t thought that far, but of course Wells did. And it does make sense. They’re only sticking to the dropship because it’s easier than moving a whole bunch of rowdy teenagers to a new place and starting from scratch.

Wells takes her silence as an invitation to continue, “We think closer to the river, to the south, would be better. The ground is more even there, so better for the foundations of buildings.”

“Monroe’s dad works in Factory Station,” Finn chimes in. “She says she can help with basic architectural foundations.”

Wells points at him in agreement, and adds, “If we can get even basic cabins, that will help us with weather conditions. Climate is okay for now, but once winter comes, who knows what to expect. No to mention storage, cooking, or even just protection from those acid fogs.”

They both look at her expectantly, as if waiting for her approval. But Clarke is dumbfounded, blinking between Wells and the map in front of her. While she was trying her hardest to keep them all alive, they planned an entire exodus, buildings, and even fields? Together?

Is she that oblivious of the world around her?

“Who’s to say the Grounders won’t shoot us on sight if we move?” comes from behind her.

Clarke is startled by Bellamy’s proximity, only a few inches behind her as he looks at the map over her shoulder. She didn’t even hear him coming and yet here he is, so close she can smell the smoke of the fire and the sap of trees on him. He stands with hands on his hips, leather jacket discarded for once. The gun pokes out from under his shirt, a not-so-friendly reminder.

“They shot Jasper the moment he crossed some kind of border, yeah?” he asks. When Finn simply nods, he adds, “So how do you know this isn’t their territory too?”

“Well, hm,” is all Finn replies.

Clarke hates that Bellamy has a point, if only because he doesn’t need to be smug about yet another thing. But he does have a point – the Grounders are nothing more than shadows and tales in the dark at this point, and who’s to say they will not attack again if the opportunity comes? Maybe they just got lucky with their landing spot, some No Man’s Land they now get to claim as their own.

“Bellamy’s right,” she admits. Wells immediately shoots her a look of what can only be described as betrayal. “We’re safe here for now. Moving could be more dangerous than it’s worth it.”

“Maybe we can send Charlotte as our scout,” Finn replies, voice dripping in sarcasm. He raises his hands in defence when the three of them immediately glare at him and voice their discontent. “Joking, guys… Even though I’m sure she’d enjoy the change of pace.”

Three days she’s been locked upstairs, three days of Bellamy feeding her breakfast and dinner and not allowing anyone else to see her. Three days that must feel like an eternity up there, and yet Clarke cannot find even half an ounce of sympathy for her. Back on the Ark, she would have been floated on sight, minor or not.

“We stay here and that’s final,” Bellamy states.

Even if Wells or Finn wanted to argue, it would be a lost cause. Those delinquents outside only answer to Bellamy, and even barely. They would never follow them to a different location without his approval, even if it made sense.

Still, never put it past Wells to try and win an argument, and he’s halfway through a reply when a whooping sound gets their attention. All four of them turn toward Monty’s corner of the dropship to find him doing a mini dance, before he stops and stares back at them.

“Oh please do keep fighting. I only just managed to repair the comms, if any of you are interested.”

Clarke shares a quick glance with Wells before the two of them hurry to Monty’s side, Bellamy and Finn following close. Monty shows them the different cables connecting various pieces of the dropship’s tech and Clarke’s old wristband.

“Once we connect this cable to the cuff, we should be able to communicate with them. Morse code, one way only.”

“Better than nothing,” Clarke replies, with a pat on his shoulder. 

He’s been working relentlessly on this for the past few days, only taking breaks for food and short cat naps. The bags under his eyes are so dark they turn purple in the low lights of the dropship. He deserves at least a whole week of sleep for the effort he’s put into this.

He shows Jasper how to connect one cable to the wristband, so he can do them the honours.

It doesn’t exactly go as planned.

Bellamy disappears back outside without a word.

…

The first real fight breaks out at dusk, about four days later than Clarke expected. It starts as a low rumble of voices, and turns into cheers and screams and chants within seconds. Clarke shares a glance with Wells, the two of them moving as one to make their way outside.

Unsurprisingly, Murphy is in the middle of the fight, with a dark-skinned boy twice as large. The other boy is very obviously smoking Murphy, punch after punch hitting his jaw and the side of his face, as the other teenagers cheer them on and yell words of encouragement.

“Someone needs to stop them,” Clarke tells Wells.

And she has no doubt Wells would do exactly that, were it not for the stitches on his neck Octavia had to fix twice already. He would put himself between them, take a few hits of his own maybe, but he would stop them. Only he can’t.

Bellamy is nowhere to be seen. Of course.

Another guy from Murphy’s gang grabs the dark-skinned boy from behind, holding his arms to his side and giving Murphy the perfect opportunity to punch back without taking a hit. He goes for the nose with a loud crunch of bones against bones, then for the ribs, and a kick to the side. The other boy grunts in pain, struggling to escape and fight back.

Wells grabs Monroe and pulls her toward them. “What’s happening?”

She looks a little wild-eyed, her tight braid coming undone, her clothes a mess. Her eyes travel between Wells and the fight, like she really wants to explain but also doesn’t want to miss the fight. She winces when the boy finally escapes and punches Murphy right back in the cheek.

“Murphy’s been bullying everyone at camp,” Monroe explains, then stops to cheer on the boy – Connor, apparently – before she glances back at Wells. “Ration water for no reason, force people to work, just straight up dickhead. Was only a matter of time before someone lashes back.” She cheers for Connor to kick Murphy in the dick. “Murphy took a piss on Connor after Connor asked for water so, ya know…”

“Yeah, this needs to stop.”

By the time Clarke actually manages to push her way through the crowd and toward the two boys, the fight has gone much, much worse. Three other teenagers are holding Murphy, pinning him so he can’t move, as Connor punches him relentlessly.

One girl yells “Float him!” and it immediately becomes a chant, louder and louder and louder, drowning out everything else. They push and pull and kick Murphy out of camp, Clarke following as she yells helplessly for them to stop, to listen, to not, please don’t, what are you doing, stop, stop.

Bellamy shoves past her, in time to stop a boy from slipping a nose around Murphy’s neck.

“What the fuck are you all doing?” he screams, and it’s enough to stop them all in their tracks, enough for all of them to fall silent and turn toward him. Enough for Connor to let go of Murphy, who spits blood and saliva on the ground.

“Right on time,” Murphy grins.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bellamy glares at the other boys, the only thing he needs to do for them to step away from Murphy, who slumps against the nearest tree. Bellamy ignores him as he turns toward the crowd. “If we kill him, we’re no better than the Ark. Is that what you want? To become your oppressors?”

The same teenagers who, only moments ago, were screaming for murder and blood, now all grumble in agreement with Bellamy. Eyes cast down, neck in shoulders, as if being scolded by a father figure. Clarke looks at each and everyone of them, the way they avoid his eyes and stand still, listening to his every word.

Only Connor is brave, or perhaps foolish, enough to reply. “So what do you propose we do? He’s been bullying half the camp for days now!”

Bellamy glares at him, for a second too long, before his eyes find herself in the crowd. Incertitude flashes through his eyes before he smooths his features again, but Clarke knows. She understands the silent cry for help. She steps forward.

“We banish him,” she states, loud enough to be heard by all. “If he refuses to be part of our society, then he’s gone. Simple as that.”

Murphy stands up, one hand on the trunk of the tree, and wipes the blood off his mouth. “And who put her in charge?” 

Bellamy pushes him back, hard, and Murphy falls back against the tree. “I did,” he says, with the kind of confidence that only Bellamy can muster. He turns back toward the others. “Anyone has a problem with Clarke, they have a problem with me.”

Clarke blinks at him, unable to find words to express the way she feels at the moment. Wells is at her side, fingers against her elbow, but she can’t find it in her to look at him when she’s so puzzled by Bellamy in front of her. Not after what he said, not after he looked at her for – was it guidance? She can’t even tell. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense. Bellamy doesn’t make sense.

She watches, troubled by her own thoughts, as Murphy is given a knife and a warning, as he’s pushed away from camp, as teenagers scatter back to their duties with hushed whispers and hurried steps. She watches, as Bellamy ensures Murphy is gone, before he turns back and walks toward her and Wells.

“What was that?” Wells asks for both of them.

Bellamy ignores him, only has eyes for Clarke. “My sister trusts you. Believes in you. Don’t make me regret it.”

Clarke frowns, before she swallows back a few chosen words for him. Instead, she says, “People will start asking about Charlotte. They’ll think it’s not fair.”

“Let me worry about Charlotte,” Bellamy replies. “And help me keep everyone else alive.”

“Since when are you a team player?”

He smiles – his first real smile, not the usual smirk and scoff – at her, looking at her through his long lashes. A lopsided smile that Clarke pretends is perfectly normal and not – yeah, perfectly normal. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to be in charge, princess.”

And then he’s gone, strutting his way back to camp without even a glance back at her. Clarke watches him go, watches him disappear behind the fence, before she looks back at Wells. She doesn’t know if she wants to be relieved or concerned that he looks as lost as she feels right now.

“I think he likes you,” Wells says flatly.

Clarke shoves his good shoulder away. “Shut up. Not Bellamy Blake.”

But Wells gives her that look, the one that says he definitely knows better and she’s being clueless, and Clarke huffs, annoyed. Her best friend knows better than to poke at it. Instead, he says, “Maybe you can convince him to move…”

“Not now. Not when we don’t know what’s out there.” She pauses, and sighs. “Anything else, though, I’ll need your help with.”

Wells grabs her hand, squeezes her fingers. “Always.”

#the 100 #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke ff #bellarkefic #fanfic #otp: princess

[cardcaptorsakura96]

About Last Night-Chapter 5

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lillian Luthor, Lena Luthor, Andrea Rojas, Lionel Luthor, Lex Luthor, Clark Kent, Alex Danvers, Eve Teschmacher, Jess, Bruce Wayne, Diana Prince, Winn Schott

Summary: Lillian Luthor is eagerly wanting to get to her daughter's destination wedding. However, a couple of detours with the docile Kara Danvers changes her life in a big way.

Rating: Mature

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Jess tapped her fingers against her leg nervously. She looked down at the clock and it was 8:55 pm. She was in a rented car with Diana and Bruce in the front seat. 

Diana sighed and said, “Tapping your fingers is not going to make things run faster.”

Jess frowned and asked, “How do you know what I am doing?”

Diana chuckled and said, “You are giving a nervous vibe.”

Jess rolled her eyes and continued tapping her fingers. She was beyond stressed right now. When the trio first started their search for Kara and Lillian, they didn’t realize that there were ten Elvis Chapels in Las Vegas alone. They have checked nine so far and the management of those places have no record of Lillian or Kara making arrangements with them. They were almost to the last place now. If the drunk pair weren’t there, it meant one of two things. Either they got sidelined and went off course to some other crazy shenanigan or the more likely option: they went into the chapel as a walk-in instead of making an appointment. Right now Jess wasn’t feeling all that confident of their odds. Jess was knocked out of her spiral of despair when she felt the car come to a complete stop. She looked up and saw that they had arrived at the chapel. 

She looked down at her watch and saw it was 8:58. 

“Shit!” Jess shrieked as she opened the door and ran out of the car.

Bruce gradually got out of the car and yelled, “Wait for us!”

Diana sighed and said, “It’s no use. That girl is too wound up over this.”

Jess bolted for the door, quickly opened it while looking down panting, and screamed, “Stop! You can’t follow through with this!”

She looked up and saw a priest and groom staring at her mystified and a bride looking very pissed off. The bride turned to the groom and slapped him in the face. 

The groom looked at her horrified and exclaimed, “Hey! What the hell was that for?”

The bride glared at him and said, “You told me that you ended it with that bitch from work.”

The groom looked back and forth between the bride and Jess dumbfounded and said, “I did! I have no idea who that is!”

Jess waved her hand, shook her head sheepishly, and said, “I am so, so, sorry. I thought that you guys were another couple. I didn’t mean to interrupt your wedding.”

The bride glared at her which caused Jess to take a step back. 

“You have some nerves you psychotic little…”

The groom placed his hands on the bride’s face so that he could turn her to face him and said, “Baby, just ignore her. This day is about you and me wanting to spend the rest of our lives together.”

The bride’s eyes started watering and said, “Adam, you know how to say just the right thing!” 

She leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately. He wrapped his hands around her waist and leaned into the embrace. 

Jess slunk into the closest pew and hung her head with her face in her hands. They looked everywhere and Lillian and Kara, and they were nowhere to be found. Jess felt a pat on her back. She looked up to see Bruce staring down sympathetically at her with Diana right behind him. 

Bruce gave a soft smile and said, “We gave our best efforts to find them. Diana and I think it would be best to just wait back at the hotel. For all we know, they could be there now.”

Jess sighed while looking down at her watch. It was 9:10 now. With no leads on where to go, it didn’t make sense to run themselves ragged searching for them. Given the state that they were in, the chapel they were trying to get to could have been Elvis adjacent in the title (several chapels had Graceland in the title). There were over 100 wedding chapels in Vegas not including the ones that were built into the hotels.

She looked up at Bruce and said, “You’re right. We’ll call it a night and hope that they return from whatever escapade they were in.” 

As Jess was about to get up from the pew, she heard someone said, “Up next is the wedding of Ms. Kara Danvers and Ms. Lillian Luthor.”

Read the rest on AO3

#dc comics #dc universe #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #lillian luthor #andrea rojas #lionel luthor #lex luthor #clark kent #eve teschmacher #alternate universe #no powers au #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl fanfic #dc comics fanfic #dc comics fanfiction #jess from supergirl #girl penis #winn schott #bruce wayne #diana prince #kitten #zebra #rescue #kara danvers x lillian luthor

[soulmate-game]

OH MY GOSH YOU ARE SO GOOD AT WRITING! I NEED A PART 3 WITH KON AND JON PLEASE!!! 🥺🥺❤️ (Only if u wanna write it tho)

Lol. Sure, why not?

—*—*—*—*—*

“You know,” Tim drawled as he sipped his drink, smirking at his boyfriend across from him. “I think this is the best date you’ve taken me on so fa—“

At that, the door to the restaurant was kicked open. Instantly, Tim and Kon tensed and got ready to jump into action, only for them to both just gape at who, exactly, had just barged in. Said barger almost instantly zeroed in on them, marching over with hands on his hips.

“And how many dates has my traitorous brother taken you out on, Huh?” Jon asked petulantly. Kon didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or run away while he had the chance.

“Uh,” Kon floundered, absolutely caught off guard. Not that that seemed to be a problem, because Jon just started up talking again, the whole restaurant looking at them;

“When were you gonna tell me that you’re GAY?!”

“Uh. Look, Jon, buddy,” Kon tried to save himself, but couldn’t quite come up with the words fast enough. Jon places a hand over his heart, looking for all the world as if he was truly heartbroken. Dramatic asshole.

“I thought we were FAMILY! How could you do this to me? The horror! The injustice of it all! My brother is GAY—“

“Jon, seriously, can we at least not do this in public?” Poor Kon was starting to look pale and twitchy, so Jon sped his act up.

“—and he doesn’t even tell his gay brother that he’s gay!” Everyone else in the restaurant, who had been filming this on their phones and nervously chattering about homophobia and if someone was gonna step in, suddenly went pin-drop silent.

“What.” Kon forgot about the beginnings of his terror, now completely dumbfounded. “Wait, you’re gay too?”

“Yeah! Which is why I’m angry!” Kon put his hands on his hips again. “Damian’s mom had to tell me that our dad is Bi, because I thought he was straight and was agonizing about how to come out to him! And she also told me the huge dramatic tale of an apparently ten-year-long love triangle between her, Damian’s dad, and our dad. It was nuts.”

Kon wrinkled his nose, Tim copying the expression. “Wait, our dads? Ewww.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jon nodded before continuing. “So I was mad at Dad, because he never told me he wasn’t straight! And I spent weeks agonizing over nothing because of it! And then Dad tells me that YOU’RE gay too?! The treachery! The mutiny! You copycat! You didn’t even have the DECENCY to tell your brother that you were GAY so that he didn’t have to worry about being the only non-straight in the family!”

“I didn’t know you were gay too! And I never even told Dad, how does he know?!”

“Apparently he knows everything!” Jon threw his hands up. “He’s the one who told me to crash your date today after the prank I pulled on him yesterday for not telling me he was bi!”

“HOW DID HE KNOW ABOUT OUR DATE?!”

“HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE THAT I’M GAY?!” Jon yelled right back. “I TOLD YOU I HAD A CRUSH ON DAMIAN YEARS AGO!”

“I THOUGHT YOU MEANT AS A FRIEND?!”

“OH MY GOD MY BROTHER IS DUMB!” Jon turned his attention to Tim. “YOU’RE SMART! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO RUB OFF ON HIM!”

Tim, who was half-sunk into his chair and only still watching this fiasco out of morbid fascination, just deadpanned at Jon and said; “There’s no cure for Stupid, your honor. He only has one braincell and it forgot how to multiply.”

“Hey!” Kon protested, slamming his hands on the table. “You’re my boyfriend! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I can’t help that I’m dating a punk himbo, Conner.”

“Graaaah!”

“And I’m dating Damian!”

Tim looked over, horrified. “I fully expected this, but also— is it voluntary? Do you need a way out?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “He’s sweet, shut up.”

“Oh my god he’s brainwashed you!” Tim was obviously just being dramatic (he loved his brother, regardless of how they didn’t often get along) so Jon ignored him and turned back to his own brother.

“Anyway, you must suck at this whole dating thing. I heard Tim say this was the best date you’ve taken him on and, full offense intended but,” he swept his arm around to indicate the restaurant. “This is a Wendy’s.”

“At least we’re not getting mugged this time though,” Kon said with a shrug.

“This is also only the third date in four years that he’s taken me on. I started all the others.”

“YOU’VE BEEN GAY FOR FOUR YEARS AND DIDN’T TELL ME?!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Later, Tim was at the Batcomputer and Marinette was handing him his first cup of coffee for the long night ahead. He looked down at his phone when it beeped, and let loose a tortured groan. Marinette just raised an eyebrow at her adopted son.

“Uh? Problems in paradise?” She asked when she saw that the sender was Kon’s contact in Tim’s phone. Tim groaned again.

“Not exactlyyyyy,” he hedged. “You told Jon that Clark is bi.”

Marinette blinked, having actually forgotten about that after Damian had showed her the video Jon had gotten of Clark. Then again, the video ended abruptly ... as if Jon had intentionally cut something out at the end.

“Jon was catastrophizing at the dinner table— oh yeah you weren’t there because you dragged Kon out for a date that night— anyway, he was having a crisis and I needed to get revenge on Clark for something. So yeah, I told him the whole story.”

“Well,” Tim growled. “Clark told Jon about Kon being gay. And somehow he knew exactly where and when we were having our date.”

Marinette caught on, unable to hide her large grin. “Oh nooooo,” she breathed. “What did he do?”

Tim grumbled and brought up the YouTube video of the whole interaction. Marinette damn near laughed herself into a coma over it, and it had already gotten over a million hits too.

“Oh my god,” Marinette had to catch her breath. “I didn’t realize Kon was just as much of a himbo as the other two of them! I thought he had to have more sense, I always thought that being a punk requires more than just the bare minimum level of intelligence.”

“Apparently not.”

“Wait,” Marinette seemed to realize something, putting her hand on her chin in sudden thought. “Wasn’t... didn’t Luthor make Kon the same year Jon was born? They’re technically the same age even though Kon is physically older, right?”

Tim’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “Luthor must have accidentally cloned Jon’s only braincell into Kon’s body,” he jokingly “realized”. “They are twin dumbasses!” He blinked, and held his phone up. “Oh shit, Jon covered Kon’s apartment completely in pride flags!”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #brucinette #they are both dumb your honor #the same braincell #just cloned #damijon #timkon #even more chaos #part 3 #so much more chaotic this time

[zimms]

Consider: ollie and wicks trading off who wears the hat (or otherwise clothes trading shenanigans) once they figure out that that's how the team ID them

hi! thank you so much for sending me this prompt! i hope you like it!

this kind of turned into a 3+1, but all of the sections are incredibly shory

Ollie scoops up Wicky’s hat and shoves it firmly on his head. “Look, I’ll prove it to you! If one member of the team actually calls me Ollie whilst I’m wearing this hat, I’ll buy your stupid fancy coffee every day for the next month.” 

Wicky stares at his boyfriend. “Ollie, we’ve been on this team for the past four years. We’re alternate captains. We live in the same Haus as four of them. Of course they’re going to notice that we’ve switched who’s wearing the hat. Surely if you want to make this a fair bet, we should at least trade clothes?”

“Nope,” Ollie says, “this is the price you pay for deciding on the first day of school that you wanted to be forever identifiable as the Dude with the Backwards Baseball Cap.”

“Hey! I thought it was a good idea!”

“Babe, wearing a backwards baseball cap is never a good idea.” Ollie kisses Wicky on the cheek. “Anyway, I’m going to go do exactly that and see how many of our teammates I run into on campus”

- 

Hops

Hops is in Ollie’s Environmental Studies class, so he’s naturally the first person that Ollie can test this on. However, he has high hopes that Hops will either completely fail or immediately know if he’s Ollie or Wicks. 

Hops completely fails. 

“Hey, Wicky! I didn’t know that you took this class!” exclaims Hops.

Bless Hops, he grins across at Ollie so enthusiastically that he can’t bring himself to correct him.

“Yeah, I’ve been taking it all semester.”

“Huh,” Hops furrows his eyebrows. “I guess I just didn’t notice you because Ollie and you weren’t sitting together. Speaking of which, do you know where Ollie is? Because we usually sit together and I don’t want to give up his usual seat just because you’re sitting closer to the front today.”

Ollie shakes his head. “Nah, he’s at the Haus; he’s feeling a bit under the weather today. We can swing by and see him later if you want!”

Hops beams. “Sure, Wicky! That would be great.”

How is someone so smart and obsessed with superheroes so dumb? Ollie’s starting to understand why no one ever realised that Clark Kent was Superman.

-

Nursey

Wicky eventually stumbles out of bed about an hour after Ollie left for his Environmental Studies class, taking Wicky’s usual cap with him. As he wanders into the kitchen, ruffling his hair (which feels extremely naked now), Nursey’s already sat at the table. 

Wicky lifts a hand in greeting before making his way to the mug cupboard. “Morning, Nursey.”

Nursey squints from his coffee cup. “G’morning, Ollie.”

Goddammit Nurse, they’ve been on the same team together for three years. 

Wicky clenches his teeth before spinning around with his mug in hand. How did Derek not notice? Wicky was always fairly sure before today that his eyebags were his most distinctive feature. Apparently not. 

“What’s up today, Ollie? You’re a lot less talkative than usual. Bad night’s sleep?” Nursey gestures his coffee cup in the vague direction of Wicky.

“Yeah, I guess.” Wicky pulls up a chair at the table, staring Nursey in the eye. “Ollie woke me up pretty early when he went to his EnvSci class.”

Now, Nursey is not fully awake that much is clear, but at least he finally seems to be getting the hint. “Ollie woke you up?” he muttered. “Why are you referring to yourself in the third-per- oh!” Nursey startles. “Sorry, Wicky! I was kind of out of it, and you don’t have your hat.”

Wicky rolls his eyes. Clearly he had too much faith in everyone.

-

Bitty 

The two of them have an art history class with Bitty in the afternoon and Ollie is praying that Bitty will come through for him and not be able to tell the two of them apart, otherwise he’ll have to pay for way too much coffee at Annie’s. 

Ollie knows that they’ve been on the same team as Bitty for four years, but he is genuinely the person that Ollie least expects to be able to identify between them, especially as he’ll only be seeing the two of them together.

So when Bitty slumps into his seat next to the two of them, Ollie is completely unsurprised that his only observation is “Wow, Ollie, your eyebags have really come out over the past day.”

Wicky makes a grumbling noise. “Yeah, I’ve been dealing with a lot of stress and anger lately.”

They don’t really say much to each other beyond that before the lecture starts.

-

Tango

Ollie passes the cap back to Wicky as they walk back to the Haus from Founders. “See! I told you they’d all just been relying on the hat!”

Wicky accepts the Sabres hat, dumbfounded, and shoves it in his back pocket. “Maybe we should spend more time with the team or something? Maybe that’s why none of them know who we are?”

Ollie hums, thinking it over. “Maybe, but-”

“Ollie! Wicky!” The sound of feet running across the frosty grass fills their ears as Tango sprints across Lake Quad to meet them. “Hey! Are you guys heading back to the Haus?”

“Yeah dude.” The two of them wait so that Tango can catch up and fall into step beside them.

“How are you guys today? I know that you were busy working on your thesis, Wicky, so I can imagine you’re kinda stressed right now.” 

And then Tango leans over to look Wicky straight in the eyes. 

Huh, maybe one teammate does know which one of them is which after all.

Tango keeps rambling on, clearly not aware of the epiphany going on around him. “And Ollie, I know architecture’s one hell of a workload. How’s that working out for you?” 

And then he turns to face Ollie. 

It wasn’t even dumb luck. 

Tango actually knows their names.

-

(Later:

“You owe me a month’s worth of coffee from Annie’s!”

“Nuh uh, I think you’ll find I said whilst wearing the hat.”

“Goddammit Ollie!”)

(Send me a prompt here!)

#ollie and wicks #my writing #floralfieldmouse #omgcp #this is bad #but

[kittyanonymity]

Marinette is the daughter of Wonder Woman X Superman

Hey have this!!!! I was inspired by @eve-valution and their wonderful art!

Also like.... It’s really just an excuse for Mari to be ridiculously overpowered tbh; plus.... the aesthetic of this tiny adorable girl accidentally breaking things all the time, and getting super flustered over it. >.> It’s cute, ok? lol

Honestly, my original plan for this was Daminette, and this version is; but I might also make some adjustments for a Timinette version (I love them, they’re adorkable together ok)? I haven’t decided yet. ALSO this is just a basic outline; not the fic itself. I haven’t started the fic yet. Feel free to ask things though!! ALSO THIS AU IS CLASS FRIENDLY!!! 

~ DAMINETTE VERSION~

So in the latest DC animated movies, they’ve been pushing Diana/Clark pretty heavily while implying that despite Clark’s attraction to Diana, he’s still in love with Lois; this is seen pretty obviously when Diana and Clark go on a date, and Lois shows up. Clark immediately puts space between him and Diana and honestly, it’s a little telling. (this is all in stark contrast to the Justice League cartoon from the 90’s/early 2000’s, where Diana and Bruce ((Wonder Woman and Batman)) were shipped pretty heavily) Talk about baby’s first OTP, am I right? XD

ANYWAY THE POINT IS THIS.

Lois and Clark are together, like they’re getting married. (somewhere in the world, Damian is turning one; this is relevant later.) One night, Superman has a ‘moment of weakness’, and him and Wonder woman bang. BOOM! Pregnant.

Diana is rightfully upset, as Clark immediately tells her this was a mistake, they never should’ve done that. He goes back to Lois, and they don’t speak outside of the Watchtower anymore. Diana does not tell him when she finds out she’s pregnant. She goes to Bruce, tells him she’ll be out of commission for up to 3 years.

Bruce is rightfully concerned, but Diana doesn’t tell him what’s wrong. He assures her she can leave; they’ll keep it together out here while she rests in Themyscira. She feels bad for not telling him, but resolves to do it later. Home she goes, to see her mom and the rest of the Amazons!

Her mother is disgusted by Clark’s conduct, but Diana has always wanted to have a child. They know it will be a daughter: it always is, Hippolyta says conspiratorially. The pregnancy is interesting, and many of the Amazons are startled at how quickly their princess can finish her projects. Hippolyta watches on in concern; her daughter has become startlingly creative during these months, and as a previous Ladybug that can mean only one thing.

Tikki will be back in the family soon.

Hippolyta says nothing about this to Diana, not wanting to alarm her daughter.

When Marinette is born with dark hair, and blue eyes there is no surprise. Diana stares at her daughter as if she is the most beautiful thing to have ever existed, and to her, she is. Marinette spends 3 years on Themyscira, learning from her mother, grandmother, and all of her many sisters. She’s an excitable child, with a penchant for marking walls with whatever she can draw. She grasps language easily, and much quicker than anyone would think possible.

But Diana has a duty. She must return to the outside world to assist the league. She thinks of the outside world, how it has taught her, hurt her, but ultimately made her stronger; and she knows that she wants Marinette to have all of that and more. So she contacts an old friend in Paris.

Sabine had left Themyscira many years prior, once Diana had cleared the way for the other Amazons to venture out. She’d fallen in love with a baker, and though the 2 couldn’t have children of their own, they were excellent people. People Diana knew she could entrust Marinette with. Sabine agreed after they discussed it extensively.

Diana would come see Marinette regularly once she was 10, giving the girl some years to mature, and come to terms with her mother’s identity. Diana assured Sabine she’d send any and all support requested, along with letters and gifts for Marinette as she grew. Diana hated to leave her daughter, but seeing as she would constantly be in danger once again, she couldn’t bear to put Marinette through that. Diana tells Sabine who Marinette’s father is, so they can be ready.

Sabine threatens to cut his dick off, which Diana laughs at. Diana and Marinette live with Sabine and Tom for a year, letting Marinette get to know and love them; and then Diana tells Marinette she has to go, the world needs her.

And Marinette just nods, giving her mother a smile.

“I know mommy.”

Good byes and I love you’s are exchanged, and after many tears, Diana finally manages to tear herself away, and she leaves. There is a hole in her heart the size of the Earth, but Diana has a job to do.

This is the world where Marinette lives now too, and she must do all she can to keep her daughter’s world safe.

Clark and Lois get married while Diana is away, and Jonathan is born; he’s only a year younger than Marinette, and 2 years younger than Damian like in canon. Clark is curious as to where Diana disappeared to, asking around, but the only one who knows is Bruce. And when Clark asks, Bruce simply shrugs.

“She told me she’d be gone for a few years. I didn’t press her for details. Everyone needs a break, Superman.”

Clark didn’t like it; he was worried. For her to disappear so abruptly… Surely she hadn’t truly loved him? Clark hates himself as he thinks about it, regret permeating him. He does his best to not think about it.

At least until Diana shows back up, 4 years later, and a little more jaded than she used to be. Bruce welcomes her back with a small smile, and a nod. Diana doesn’t even look at Clark.

And for Clark, it’s enough to just know that she’s safe. He doesn’t blame her for hating him; he kinda hates him too.

Literally none of the League know about Marinette; Diana doesn’t tell fucking anyone.

Miraculous canon happens as normal, only difference is that Lila is fucking gone after the Volpina incident. She’s gone after that, no return, nothing. I hate that girl, and honestly, I just wanna write something where Marinette’s friends love her, without the class drama. I can’t forgive the Miraculous writers for doing that to the students. Chat is still pretty pushy in his pursuit of Ladybug, but not in an exaggerated way. However, it does still cause some eventual complications that he needs to learn and grow from. Minimum bashing should be involved, and it will be centered around pointing out the toxic things he does, and him correcting those behaviors. Adrien is my boi and I love him.

ANYWAY.

When Marinette is 10, Diana shows up to see her. Marinette has known that Sabine wasn’t her real mother; Mari still calls Sabine Maman though cause like… the woman raised her, duh. Marinette loves Diana, even though she doesn’t remember what her mother looks like. Diana always remembers her birthday, and all of the holidays; Marinette has saved every letter, and gift her mother has ever sent her. She doesn’t realize her mother is Wonder Woman yet. Well, at least until she shows up on her 10th birthday. Marinette recognizes her as the heroine instantly, but says nothing; she’s seen movies, she knows secret identities are important!

Over the years, Sabine has kept Diana informed on the progression of Marinette’s… abilities. Look, the girl is a split between the Amazonian princess, and a Kryptonian. God only knows what she’ll be able to do. So far, Marinette has displayed signs of super strength and speed, and most recently flight; she’s got the enhanced senses as well, and she carries ear plugs with her when they go out. Diana is happy to know though, that Marinette has a strong sense of right and wrong. She owes Sabine a great debt of gratitude, and knows she’ll never be able to thank the woman enough for raising their (because yeah, Marinette is theirs now) daughter.

(Marinette goes to school, excited to tell everyone about her 2 mommies and her daddy. Despite Diana not being romantically involved with them…. Yet???? Maybe????? HMMMM)

After Marinette turns 10, Diana makes a point to visit every spring for her daughter’s birthday, and to check in on things. The day of Marinette’s 14th birthday, Diana steps off of the plane, and on her way to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, she witnesses her first akuma. Preparing to step in, Diana freezes when Ladybug and Chat Noir appear on the scene.

Diana recognizes Marinette on sight, and the spots are familiar. She remembers her mother, the stories of Tikki, and the adventures they had, the evils they stopped. She remembers how anxious her mother was during her pregnancy, when Diana could not stop drawing, writing, whatever she could be doing.

Marinette is a pure soul of creation, born of Tikki’s essence, and she is Diana’s daughter, an Amazon, and half kryptonian.

Diana watches her daughter fight, hands clenched at her sides. The Amazon in her demanding she see this through, watch her daughter be the fierce warrior she is meant to be; the mother in her is clawing at her throat, preventing her from speaking with the force of her panic.

And Marinette is an excellent fighter. Diana recognizes many of the moves she used to practice while they were still on the island, and they’ve been refined, polished, and put on display to show the world. It had to be Sabine’s handiwork, teaching her this. Did Sabine know she was Ladybug? No, she would’ve told Diana first thing.

Diana does not intervene, watching Ladybug win, and undo the damage.

Once the akuma is dealt with, Diana follows her daughter as she swings away and finds a quiet place to de-transform.

“My little light, you have exactly 2 minutes to tell me what is going on.”

Marinette jumps a mile, whipping around to see her mother, and then Tikki is smiling, hugging Diana’s cheek.

“Diana! It’s been too long!” Diana gives the kwami a smile.

“Hello, Tikki, mother misses you.”

Marinette is dumbfounded.

Diana explains everything, about how she knows, and why; tells her about Hippolyta, and her connection to the Miraculous. It was the most exciting and stressful birthday yet.

Diana starts making more regular trips to Paris to assist her daughter when she needs the extra help; since Diana is generally fairly good at keeping her emotions in check, it works out. Marinette works extra hard to make sure she keeps her extra abilities in check.

She uses her powers in small subtle ways; using her flight to get a better distance out of a yo-yo swing, but doing it in a way where it’s unnoticeable to the standard eye. Or using her x ray vision to avoid people she doesn’t want to see. She lets herself be clumsy, and careless with her movements in her daily life, making sure none of her friends can ever make the connection between her and Ladybug later on; before Ladybug, she’s clumsy so she doesn’t draw attention to her powers. The only one who knows she has powers is Nino.

It’s hard to explain to your childhood friend why you’re flying after all; he had been there the first time she’d accidentally used this new power. OOPS

All abilities/side effects Mari has:

-Super strength

-super senses (hearing, sight, smell, etc ((is taste usually included in this???? hm)))

-Enhanced vision (x-ray, thermal)

-Flight

-Super speed (bout as fast as Superman if she tries hard enough)

-Ladybug luck

-Martial arts/various fighting styles

-Amazon swordfighting & archery

Side effects:

-Sluggish in Winter thanks to Ladybug things; will hibernate if she gets too cold

-Has bursts of creative energy that keep her up far longer than she should be; usually crashes afterwards; these will stop as she gets older, and gets a better handle on her Ladybug powers.

-Gets sick easily during the cold months

-Kryptonite hurts her, obviously; she gets a wicked migraine, and nausea; usually her vision gets bad too.

Marinette’s personality doesn’t change all that much, really. She’s still undeniably kind, and selfless, always going out of the way for her friends. She’s a bit more vocal about her sense of justice, not putting up with bullies. Chloe gets her redemption a bit early because of this. Marinette is also not afraid to just absolutely throw down and brawl if you’re being a violent asshole. Like, damn. She is tiny, but she will miss you up.

ANYWHO.

With Diana making frequent trips to Paris, it catches Bruce’s eye, and he of course gets suspicious. The French government has been keeping the situation with the Akumas under wraps for about 3 years now, no news escaping the country. Marinette is currently 16, Diana has been helping her deal with hard to handle akumas for 2 years; Damian is 17, and Jon is 15.

So when Bruce looks into Diana’s activity in Paris, he’s startled to find little to nothing about Wonder Woman. An article briefly mentions something called an ‘akuma’ but then there’s no further mention. Instead he finds records of Diana Prince shacking up with a married couple and their daughter.

When Bruce finds a picture of Diana standing with the Dupain-Chengs, his breath leaves him. She is staring at the girl in the picture with such a proud adoring gaze, and he would have to be blind to miss the resemblance. The girl’s age lines up with when Diana left, and Bruce remembers how unusually concerned Clark had been about her location.

He’s the world’s greatest detective, and the pieces are too easy to put together.

SO Bruce Wayne does what Bruce Wayne always does.

Finds a way to get information.

He invites Francois-Dupont to his yearly student seminar, meant to help students get a jump start on their careers. They must prove why they deserve to attend, like all the schools invited, in the form of an essay, accompanied by a video of their school.

Mlle. Bustier’s class is selected as the class to make the video representing the school; Marinette and Alya volunteer to head the project with audio assistance from Nino, while Adrien offers to help with the budget. The class comes together to offer some kind of assistance or another, even Chloe, who goes out of her way to help the class plan. Marinette writes the basic video out, how it should look, what it should say.

But they need a narrator.

The class unanimously votes for Marinette.

“You know us better than anyone, Nette. It’s gotta be you.”

“Everyone knows you here, Mari; you’re the sweetest girl in the school.”

“A WELCOME VIDEO!”

It’s Alya who shouts it, grinning at the class.

“It’ll be a welcome video with Marinette showing a ‘new kid’ around!”

Marinette’s gotta admit, it’s genius; the class agrees, and planning begins in earnest now that they have a better idea for it.

All of their carefully laid plans fall to pieces when their high end camera breaks the day they need to film. Everyone is shouting, stress is high, and Rose is crying. Marinette knows she needs to do something before an akuma shows up, but then she hears a yelp, and she looks over to see a first year stumble back as Kim knocks into her. Marinette’s there in an instant, steadying the girl on her feet, and giving her a smile.

“Are you ok?”

She’s unaware of Adrien watching her with a fond smile, while he elbows Alya; Alya stops yelling at Chloe long enough to look over, and quickly take her phone out, and press record. The classes attention immediately shifts, the tension all but disappearing.

The first year nods hesitantly.

“Y-yes I’m ok. It’s just my first day here, a-and I’m…” The dark haired girl bit her lip, looking at the floor, “I’m really scared.” Marinette frowned for a moment before she smiled, and took the girls’ hand.

“I’m Marinette, what’s your name?” The girl sniffled, rubbing at her eyes.

“My name’s Bridgette.” Marinette nodded, her smile growing.

“It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about my friend Kim over there. He gets a little excitable sometimes.” Bridgette offered her a smile.

“It’s ok. It looked interesting so I wanted to get closer, but I wasn’t paying much attention.” Her eyes fell, and she looked off to the side, but Marinette gripped her hand gently, causing her to look up.

“I can show you around the school if you like. Everyone here is really nice, I promise. We look after each other the best we can, and you can always ask one of us for help.” Marinette gestures to her classmates, who offer Bridgette encouraging smiles. It’d been awhile since they’d seen Marinette work her particular brand of magic. Bridgette’s smile grew, and she finally nodded.

“I’d really appreciate that, Marinette thank you.” Marinette simply waved her off.

“It’s fine! We’ll make it fun!” She turned to her class, missing Alya hiding behind Adrien, still recording.

“I’ll be back in a bit guys. Come find me when you get the camera replaced.”

The camera panned around Adrien’s back as Marinette turned away, and began leading Bridgette further into the school. Alya hurried to catch up, the class following shortly after.

Marinette showed the young girl all around the building, from her homeroom class, and to each individual classroom so the girl would never be lost. And she talked to her, learning that Bridgette had just recently moved there from Italy, escaping her old school and the torment she’d endured there. It burned Marinette to know that someone had been so cruel to such a sweet girl, but Bridgette assured her it was fine since she wasn’t there anymore. Marinette in turn, assured her that no one at Dupont would ever treat her so cruelly. And if anyone did happen to do so, she should come find her immediately.

Bridgette laughed, flushing pink.

“Thanks, Mari!” Bridgette’s gaze grew wistful, “It’s been awhile since I’ve laughed with a friend.”

And Marinette was resplendent in her joy, pulling the girl into a gentle hug.

“We’ll look out for you, Bridgette. You can count on us.” The girl returned the embrace, nodding. After a moment, the two girls pulled back, and Bridgette smiled.

“Thanks for caring, Mari.” Marinette shrugged, giving her a smile.

“You’re worth it, Bridgette, remember that.” She nodded her head towards a classroom, “But you should probably get to class now. I think you’re really late. I’ll have a talk with Mr. Beaumont about why right after my class and I finish this project, ok? Just tell him Marinette will explain, and he should understand.” Bridgette nodded, thanking her again, before kissing her cheek, and heading to her classroom. Marinette watched her go with a smile, and sighed, before turning to head back to her class.

Only to promptly freeze at the sight of them behind her, grinning in glee, Alya at the front, phone held high.

Marinette flushed bright red.

“Guys, what’re you doing?” Alya clicked end on the recording and grinned at her best friend.

“Getting our video of course!”

Marinette was certain she was going to die. Or combust on the spot. God, what if she actually did though, and it was just another damn power to worry about???

Needless to say, she’s embarrassed. But once the class reviews the video, they find it to be perfect. They were able to stay close enough to hear Bridgette’s and Marinette’s conversation, and hear Marinette explaining things to her. Nino took the audio and boosted it in certain parts, and making sure to edit out any personal information the girls discussed during the tour.

The video coupled with the 15 page essay Marinette submits secures their spot in the seminar.

Meanwhile, when Diana hears Marinette gushing about their school being invited to the annual Wayne Seminar, she is immediately suspicious. She finds Bruce within the day, appearing in the Batcave with no preamble; Bruce is waiting for her.

He offers her a drink. And Diana sighs, because he definitely already knows; so she accepts his drink, and they sit.

And they talk.

He asks why she didn’t tell him, he would’ve helped her. And Diana laughs, and it’s surprisingly good natured.

“Bruce, you would’ve killed him back then. Don’t think I don’t know how much you two hated each other back then.” She sighed, “You idiots were finally about to be friends, and if I’d told you what he’d said, what we’d done…” She snorted, “I was quite sure you would’ve killed him.” Bruce didn’t deny her accusations, nor did he accept them.

“What’s she like?” And Bruce watched Diana’s whole body relax, a small smile on her face as she swirled the liquor in her glass.

“She is the best thing that has ever existed for me in this world. She’s my little light, and I will see that this world is safe for her.” Bruce thought of his sons, his daughters, and he nodded.

“And her powers?” Diana’s grin grew broad, and she raised her fist.

“She is strong, Bruce. The strongest.” Again, Bruce nodded, having a drink from his glass as Diana stared him down, “If you hurt her while she is in your care, Bruce, we will have problems. You know this?” Bruce sat his glass down, reaching for the bottle to refill his cup.

“I know, Diana. My intentions are purely curious, I promise you.” He smiled, a small upturn of his lips, “She was the star of their video, you know.”

He shows her the video the class submitted, edited to include the class singing the praises of their class president as an intro, before it cut to some footage taken on a cell phone. It followed Marinette around as she guided a younger student around the school, offering advice, and going out of her way to help the girl. The footage ended with the girl’s blushing face before it cut to an outro featuring the Journalist of the class, Alya Cesaire. Alya had said that since Marinette was writing the essay, she knew her friend wouldn’t include her own good deeds, and since Alya was in charge of the video, she’d take care of it here.

And Diana watched her daughter’s best friend proudly declare Marinette’s achievements, and her aspirations; the good she’d done, and the bad she’d prevented, or outright ended.

Bruce pretended not to notice Diana’s tears.

OOF I DID NOT MEAN TO WRITE THAT MUCH OF THAT WOW

Ok so anyway, trip to Gotham gets secured cause of all that. Master Fu will send Kaalki with Marinette as an assured countermeasure against akumas, and Diana promises she will stay in Paris while Marinette is in Gotham. This assures Marinette that between her mom, Viperion, and Ryuuko they could hold their own until she could get there.

To Gotham! YAY!

They land mid afternoon, check into the hotel, and fucking sleep. That’s it.

Next day, they have a guided tour of the Gotham Natural History museum, which is super dope, and everyone is excited; except for Chloe, because even redeemed she’s kind of a brat. I love her. Marinette meets Tim first in this one. Tim is at the Museum because as CEO of Wayne Enterprises he is donating something to the museum. They bump into each other, and she knocks him down.

Tim is kind of stunned cause this tiny pixie like girl just knocked right into him and didn’t even budge, holy shit. And Marinette is stumbling over her words as she apologizes, and helps Tim up, and wow, that is one hell of a grip for someone that size, what the fUCK. Tim is properly dismayed, but waves off her concern good naturedly, saying he shouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the hallway like an idiot; Marinette flushes brighter, insisting she should’ve been paying more attention.

And then Jason shows up, cause like damn Tim, what the hell is taking you so long?

Looks at Marinette.

Hey isn’t she a bit young for you, Drake?

(in another timeline this would probably be a fun Timinette AU, I won’t lie. hmmmmmmm…..)

Tim rolls his eyes at Jason’s antics, offering Marinette a grimace.

‘Sorry about him, he’s deplorable. Again I’m sorry for running into you’

Marinette laughs it off, shaking her head

‘I’m so sorry for knocking you down. I’ll make sure to pay more attention.’

Tim and Jason leave, Jason offering her a wide grin and a little wave; Marinette just shakes her head in amusement, and catches up with the class.

MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MUSEUM

Damian and Jon are hanging out; Jon has decided to come and pester him since his school, Metropolis Prep, is also invited to the seminar, and Damian likes his friend, he really does, but *god* he is suffering right now. Jon is making comments left and right, and Damian is about to lose it.

‘Ooh, am I making you mad, Wayne?’

Damian glares at his friend.

‘Stop talking. My head is killing me, and I am *this* close to killing *you*.’

Jon just laughs, and Damian rolls his eyes.

After awhile of wandering around, looking at things, they go get some lunch in the cafeteria. There’s a large group of French students taking up one of the tables, one dark haired girl standing while the others are sitting; there’s a map and a notebook spread out in front of her. Damian watches as she smiles at her classmates, writing things in the notebook, while marking things on the map.

‘Oh, that’s cool!’

Damian looks at Jon, ‘What?’ Jon grins.

‘They’re planning on what they want to see while in Gotham.’

‘How do you know?’ Jon rolls his eyes as they get some food.

‘Damian. I have super powers, idiot.’ Damian snorts.

‘Doesn’t explain your incompetence though.’

Both boys miss the wide eyed stare Marinette is giving Jon from her table.

She hadn’t MEANT to hear him, but when you can hear pretty much everything, eavesdropping is inevitable; doesn’t mean she has to like it though.

Also, wow that boy looks so much like her?? How weird.

She and the class finish planning other places they’d like to go, while Marinette turns the list of locations into Miss Bustier for her to review. They had a basic schedule set up, but their teacher had allowed them to see Gotham for what it was before finalizing things.

After lunch, their tour resumes, and Jon and Damian find themselves along the same path as Marinette’s class. They’ve moved past some of the older cultural items, and are entering the room of heroes and villains. Wax replicas of Batman, all of the Robins’, Black Bat, Batgirl, and various big name villains line the walls. Damian was on edge the entire time, not quite listening to Jon’s rambling.

And well OF COURSE something goes wrong, because you can’t have the Dupont kids go anywhere with no problems.

Two Face steps down from where his figure used to be, unloading his gun into the ceiling. He thinks he’ll have an easy time taking this French class hostage.

He is not prepared for these kids.

Alix and Kim tag team a couple of his henchmen with support from Max who has outfitted Markov with some new tech as well. Juleka (who has been tapped for the Lion Miraculous before) and Rose (who’s used the Mouse) take one down, while Ivan smashes two more henchmen together, shielding Mylene. Alya takes the knees out another one while Nino comes across his jaw with a hard left cross. Nathaniel is in front of Sabrina, shielding her when Chloe comes down hard on the henchman in front of them.

Adrien and Marinette go for Two Face, each of them a bit surprised at how the other moved.

And Damian is shocked stupid, watching this French class absolutely decimate one of Gotham’s finest rogues.

Meanwhile Jon is stuck staring at the duo. Between looking at the cute blonde boy, or the dark haired girl who is *WAY* stronger than she looks; especially if she can throw Two Face around one handed, damn.

And Marinette is more concerned with keeping her friends safe than hiding her abilities, and she probably moves too fast, and uses too much strength; her classmates buy her excuse of her extra martial arts classes outside of class.

Damian however does not.

And then the police show up, shocked to find this group of criminals subdued by a group of foreign teenagers.

The second Damian is out of the museum, losing Jon for a moment in the chaos, he calls his father.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a meta among that French class you invited?”

Damian can practically his father shrug.

“It’s not my business to tell, Damian. Just talk to her.”

He growled as his father ended the call; the man knew something, he knew it.

And thus begins the chronicles of Damian trying to figure out WTH is going on with Marinette; which leads to friendship. Damnit.

This is where the typical getting to know you Daminette stuff will happen.. Including dates, and identity reveals.

The biggest conflict of this is honestly dealing with Superman when he finds out. Marinette has known who her father was since she was 10 years old, when she learned her mother’s identity; but Diana didn’t officially tell her until her 14th birthday, after the akuma incident.

“No more secrets, little light; I will tell you everything.” Diana had said; and she had.

Marinette is glad to have Tom, because wow her real father sounds like a dickhead.

When she officially meets Jon (Damian introduces them), she immediately realizes ‘well fuck, I have a little brother???? And he’s best friends with the boy I have a crush on, shit.’

Anyway, Superman finds out Diana had a daughter, their daughter, after the trip to Gotham concludes, and he immediately heads for Paris as Superman. He finds Diana as Wonder Woman talking to a young girl in Red with black spots, but Superman is set on speaking to Diana as he lands, and starts striding up to her.

“We need to talk.” Diana stares at him dispassionately as he walks up.

“I have nothing to say to you. Leave.”

Clark reaches out for Diana’s hand, only to have his wrist grabbed by the girl in red; who is glaring up at him fiercely. Wow her grip is tight…

“If you touch my mother, I will decimate you.”

And Clark is reeling, because holy shit, this is his daughter; his and Diana’s blood. And Clark just looks at Diana, conflicted.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Diana?” Diana shrugged.

“Telling you would not have changed the outcome. I have always wanted a child, and she is everything I need of this world. Why would I tell you?”

“Because she’s my blood too! She’s kryptonian!” And the girl growls, and then she is hovering in front of his face, blocking his view of Diana. Her eyes are a blazing blue behind her mask, and Clark realizes: she can fly.

“I may share your blood, Superman, but I am not Kryptonian; I am an Amazon. I am Ladybug. And I will not listen to you berate my mother for her choices. She told you to leave, and I can assure you, I won’t be as nice when I demand your absence.”

And Clark is just. Stunned. Because yeah, that was definitely an Amazonian level threat she just gave him; but he’s Superman, and yeah, she’s his daughter, but how strong could she be? Should he push the matter?

Clark watches as other heroes slowly appear behind the girl; One clad in orange, one in green; A fox and turtle respectively. Then there’s the one in black, green eyes narrowed at him; a feral cat, it looks like. Then there’s the one in yellow and rusty orange, a snarl marring her lips; a Bee?? Or a Hornet?? The final two are teal and red, a boy and a girl; a snake, and a… dragon?

What has his daughter been up to in Paris?

Grief swells within him, and he sighs.

“Ok, I’ll-”

Ladybug screams.

“Hello Superman, I am Hawkmoth.”

And that’ll be the final fight of this fic I think! They’ll beat akumatized Superman (batfam Zetas in to help, and so does Jon and Connor), and then Clark leads them to Hawkmoth’s base, and Gabriel is dealt with, along with Nathalie. Marinette and Adrien will both do university in America, with Adrien learning under Bruce about business along with Damian (the 2 become surprisingly good friends after a point), and Marinette accepted Audrey’s internship while she goes to school in New York. She frequently pops over to the manor to see the Batfam.

I’m gonna work on the Timinette version of this next; that ship is so adorkable and I *LOVE* it

There may also end up being a Jasonette version?? I haven’t decided yet tbh

#maribat #daminette #mlb x dc #WonderSuper AU #that'll be the tag for this #will I actually write it?? #WHO KNOWS! #NOT *ME*! #:D #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #this AU isn't entirely Superman friendly #but it IS class friendly!!! :D #here have this!

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt. 4

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4 (HERE)

Part 5

_______________________________________________________________________

“Yup!” Jason popped the ‘p’ before holding up the book Tim had given him, “Who’s ready for storytime?” 

“What do you mean Tim is afraid I would throw him out?” Bruce pushed even as Jason led them towards one of the desks, “I want to help him with-”

“Yeah I’m gonna stop you there,” Jason cut him off, eyes hard as he set the book down with an uncharacteristic amount of care,“Tim was very offended by what we thought was going on with him and it just made him more sure that all of us were going to leave him behind as his shitty parents did. So let’s just cut to the chase and cool off before he seriously decides to run off before we can go talk to him because I’m pretty sure even after talking to him for twenty minutes, he’s still around seventy-five percent sure that’s going to be a better option than waiting around.” 

Jason had never seen the energy of a room shift so fast, the anger and bloodlust that had been suffocating since Dick uncovered the file on Marinette vanished into a deep rippling uncertainty. If there was one unspoken rule of the household, it was that no previous trauma will knowingly be replicated. It’s why Jason always makes a point of leaving his guns in the cave and never points them passed Bruce unless it’s life or death. Why no one touched the trapeze unless Dick was going up with them and they always used a net, no matter how good their aerial skills were. Why no one spoke to Jason in angry or stern Arabic. No one told Damian he was overreacting, especially when it was about illness or injuries. 

No one was allowed to make Tim think they were abandoning him.   

Dick looked stricken at the very idea, “Jay, why is Tim so scared?” 

“Short answer? Tim’s Meta.” 

The whole room froze, eyes flying wide, making Jason chuckle, “Yeah that was my response to.”

“How long?” Bruce asked, hand gripping the back of his chair so hard, Jason wondered if he was going to break it. 

“From what he said, he was born with his power, it’s always on and pretty impossible for him to block out.”

Damian’s face scrunched, “And father always made it clear that he doesn’t like Metas in Gotham.”  

“Fuck,” Dick swore, turning to punch the cave wall, “How the actual shit did we miss this? We’re fucking detectives goddamn it!” 

Seeing Dick lose it like that made Jason pause. It was rare to see the carefree brother truly get mad about anything, let alone for him to cuss up a storm, he always did prefer those filler cusses that make the rest of them groan. 

But then again Damian looked pained and Bruce was sinking into the Bat-computer chair looking lost as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I never meant it like this,” Bruce whispered, “I just didn’t want anyone else coming to Gotham expecting to be able to fix it overnight. Did I really come off anti-meta?” 

“I…” Jason winced, stopping to think, “I never thought so, but I can see how Tim thought you might be. We all need to talk to him, but I promised I’d explain some of this shit like Tim did to me, and look through his book so that we don’t all bombard him with questions.” 

The four shared a look before they all surrounded the table as Jason began. He told them of the numbers, the skill Tim had that he never shared. After they opened the book they found that it was more complex than just that. 

The entries started off very rudimentary, clearly written by a small child, the dates claiming that Tim began this journal when he was merely six years old. They detailed the color, font, and number of the person he had met. A few of the higher ranks having little ideas next to them on the cause, but as the list grew and the handwriting even outed, there were itemized lists on the reason for each number above a 5. 

By the time they reached Bruce’s they were pretty dumbfounded as they read through Tim’s confusion and fear at the number that broke the code he’d knew through his whole life, his reason section was filled with sentences of ideas, instead of the short bullet points, trying to ration it out. 

The most confusing part of it was he ruled things out that he couldn’t have known, insider trading and corruption would have been a logical conclusion for him to draw of the Billionaire he knew nothing about but he ruled them out instantly, not even bothering to consider they might be part of the reason. 

Not to mention when he actually put it together. 

“His power works on broadcasts as well?” Bruce mused, “I know I never saw he was never on the streets when I was out during this time period,” 

“Adding it to the list of questions,” Dick said as he typed it out into the sheet he had made when they started asking too many questions only Tim could answer.  

“Never mind that,” Damian brushed off, “Look at the traits he listed, all listed at the same time from the looks of the ink but if the date is to be believed, this is from before Todd was debuted as Robin, how did he know you had a mastery in hacking, spoke multiple languages and stunt flight?” 

All of them froze at those words, hunching over it to look at the words. 

There was no logical way Tim could know any of those things. Most of Batman’s skill set could be guessed through out the rumors and gossip that flew since the caped crusader started his reign of the city, but those skill sets still weren’t widely known to the public. 

“I…” Bruce shook his head, “Add it to the list, we have a lot more of the book to get through to worry about this now. We should try and finish the book. 

But the issue popped up again and again as the pages went on, each hero he met he knew their skills down to the littlest detail, things he shouldn’t be able to know, especially before he became the third Robin. 

He knew Clark was Superman when he met the reporter first.

He knew Diane was made of clay before the woman had ever given away that little tidbit.

He knew that Barry was a wiz when it came to criminology before the speedster had ever given up his identity. 

He knew Arthur had low-level empathic abilities that went beyond sea life before Arthur was even considered a hero. 

They were only two-third of the way through the book, arguing over how The Commissioner could possibly know their identities, let alone why it would make his number rise so quickly when not even Bruce’s number had done so when he learned the other League member’s identities, when a stern voice cut through their thought. 

 “Gentlemen, There’s a bit of a situation that Master Tim and I discovered that could use your attention.” Alfred cut in, making them turn, stopping when they saw Tim practically sprint to the Bat computer, pointily looking at the wall to avoid looking at them, his shoulders so tight they shock.

“Tim?” Dick asked, concern dripping from his words as he started towards the younger man only to freeze as Tim visually flinched away from the word, curling inward as he frantically typed away on the keyboard. 

Before any of them tried to break the silence again the giant screen lit up to show a battle play out. A young girl dressed in a red and polka-dotted outfit flipping and twisting out of the way of the pages thrown like ninja stars at her, a yoyo used to propel her, eyes filled with laughter behind her mask. Her moves were agile and practiced, as another figure, a boy her same age dressed in skin-tight black leather entered the frame. 

“I figured out why Marinette is a 15,” He finally managed out, making the bats’, minus Jason, heads snap to him.

A 15? 

The brat couldn’t just have a normal girlfriend, could he?

No, he had to have someone that shattered Tim’s power completely.

 And he had no idea why, until now. 

They really couldn’t blame him for being obsessive. 

“I couldn’t find out why Mari was so powerful,” Tim rambled on, “But Alfred helped me realize that she’s a hero too. A hero with the power of the god of creation on her side, which makes sense for why she completely broke my, uh, my power. She’s been-” 

“Tim,” 

“-fighting a supervillain,” Tim just continued as if he hadn’t heard Bruce, his voice skipping up a few pitches, “ who also uses the power of a god to help him make others into villains to do his bidding. They’ve been locked in battle for years now. Years! We really should have noticed before now, but better late then never right? Heh, she has some allies though so it’s not like she was fighting on her own or anything, and-”  

“Drake,” Damian cut in, ducking past Dick to grab Tim by the shoulder to spin him, staring into his eyes with the type of harsh determination only the demon spawn seemed to be able to, ignoring the quacking fear in Tim’s own eyes, “I am the byproduct of the daughter of one of Father’s greatest enemies drugging him. I was raised will one goal in mind, to be the ultimate weapon to take down all that stood in the way of the League of Assassins, and yet Father, Grayson, Todd, Pennyworth and you gave me safety and taught me why my grandfather was wrong. Todd was murdered by a clown with psychopathic tendencies, was brought back by the magic that my grandfather has a monopoly on, went crazy with Lazarth sickness and thought the best course of action was to become a crimelord in the very city he vowed to protect, going as far as trying to shoot Father, the man he saw as an older brother and you, the boy he was convinced Father had only brought into the circle to die as he had, and yet once the sickness faded Father welcomed back in with open arms, shedding tears for the child he thought he had lost. Father may have made it clear that he’s not a fan of metas operating in the city, but you’re a moron if you believe for a second that means he’s going to disown you or take Red Robin away from you. You’re also lost all my respect if you think this means I or any of the others that dawn the bat moniker are going to feel any different about you for having these powers.” 

Tim’s mouth opened and closed several times after Damian’s speech had come to a close as the others waited for him to break the silence of the cave. All he could feel was his hands trembling as his eyes welled up. 

Damian was still looking at him before sighing, “You really are an idiot,” 

He wanted to retort, wanted to bite out a response as he blinked back the tears but he suddenly found Damian’s arms wrapped around his waist, a tight grounding embrace, the younger boy’s chin resting on his shoulder. 

Tim wasn’t sure he was breathing, his whole body shaking like it was trying to shatter into a million pieces. The brat, Damian, the one person he thought would gladly cast him aside given the slightest of reason to was… 

“You’re family, Tim,” Damian stern voice cut through his mental frenzy, “If I’ve learned one thing since moving to Gotham, it’s that you don’t give up on family, not for anything, and certainly not for something like this.”   

Tim felt something inside him break and the next thing he knew he was sobbing into Damian’s shoulder the pair on their knees in the middle of the cave, gripping Damian back like he thought if he let go the boy would vanish. Slowly as he felt his breathing calm down and his sobs fade he could feel more arms surrounding him. The entire bat family was surrounding him, silently holding him through his breakdown. 

He pulled back, scrubbing his eyes as his family slowly untangled from around him. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, voice scratchy from the tears, “I guess I should have known none of you would hate me but… I’ve been so scared that I’d lose you guys too. I didn’t want to risk it, I couldn’t risk it.” 

He flinched slightly when a large hand squeezed his shoulder looking up into Bruce’s eyes, softened by a love that could destroy the world if his child was hurt. A love that none of the Waynes needed to put words to because of looks like this. 

Glancing back to his brothers he saw the love in Bruce’s eyes reflected in theirs, all of them accepting him and loving him still. 

The weight Tim had carried for as long as he knew to grow lighter as a small smile worked its way onto his face. 

His eyes burning with the same intense love for his family back at them. 

For the first time in a long time, Tim knew without a doubt 

It would be okay. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Tim couldn’t stop the whimper from falling from his lips as Marinette’s class came pouring out of the doors of the school.

All of the Wayne boys had decided to surprise Marinette by showing up at her class when it let out, in addition to not wanting to wait to reveal they knew her secret. It wasn’t hard to get all of them to Paris merely days after Tim’s secret came to light, especially since Bruce was planning on checking up on the Paris branch of Wayne Enterprises the following week before everything happened. Expanding the trip last minute to include all of them had taken little effort, and all of their suits were tucked away in their hotel suites, waiting to be dawned once they got Marinette alone. 

Tim was ready to turn back now though and for a very good reason. 

 In the normal sea of threes and fours, normally Marinette stood out with her overwhelmingly soft pink 15, but now...

The tanned girl that had hoards of kids surrounding her had an obnoxious copper 9 floating above her, the font looking like a tiger had scratched it into the very fabric of space. 

A trio of students, a bulky boy, a small pink-haired girl, and a dark-skinned nerdy-looking boy, were messing around as pale numbers circled their heads, a pair of stark white 12s over the boys and an icy blue 13 over the girl. 

A pair of girls, one blonde and one of Asian descent, were bickering as they made their way down the steps,  a canary yellow daintily drawn 14 for the blonde and deep burgundy calligraphed 13 for the more stoic girl.   

And the blonde boy Marinette was happily conversing with, looking even more softspoken and sweet than the baker girl.

He had a venomous green 15 swirling over him in it’s rounded bubble-like font. 

His brothers glanced at him warily. 

“Everything okay Timmy?” Jason asked, eyes flitting over the crowed on instinct, looking for the threat that spooked him. 

“I’ll tell you later,” He groaned back, “... but keep an eye on the girl in the orange jacket, she feels slimy from all the way over here,” 

His brothers nodded, but even so, Tim felt a migraine coming on. 

For once Tim wished for an alien invasion so he didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #Tim Drake #meta!tim #BatFam #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #miraculous class #numbers AU #Tim is so tired

[emilystoryspot]

Bruce's Bat Baby pt.3

Inspiration here

To part one here

To part two here

word count  7949

Months 5 and 6 

We met at a small diner inside town. I had on an oversized jacket and sat down on the same side next to Bruce, Lois and Clark were already there. Bruce and Clark had a small conversation, “I mean not that I don't like having lunch but, why did you want to get lunch?” Lois asks as she sips her iced tea.

“We have a story for you two to write.” Bruce says as he puts ketchup on the side of his plate, smearing it with a fry.

Clark and Lois looked at each other before turning back to us who were enjoying our food, “What kind of story?” Clark asks.

“Does it have a title?” Lois adds to Clarks previous statement.

I nod my head as Lois cocks hers to the side, I ignore her glare, “The title is…” Bruce looks at me and I glance at him, I wipe my hand and then put it on top of him, on the table, “The Waynes expecting their first child together.”

At the same time Bruce and I turn our heads to look at them and both their jaws are dropped, “Your… you're”

“Pregnant.” I said looking at Lois's dumbfounded expression from across the table, “Four months from today, I take off my jacket and stand up, “It's getting to the point where I can't hide it anymore.” 

Lois gapes at the baby bump and jumps up, the dishes on the table bang together when she gets up and wraps her arms around me, “Congrats!” I wrap my arms around her as Bruce and Clark exchange congratulations while me and Lois sit down, “Pictures, ultrasound photos.” 

“You two already have a herd,” Clark points to my stomach, “That kids gonna have a whole village.”

We spend at least two hours talking and we stay long after we've had dessert, Clark forces himself to pay even though we invited them. Lois thinks it was to make a cute and adorable headline, Bruce wants to tell the rest of the Justice League before Lois publishes her article, all is good.

“When are you going to tell the rest of the League?” My hand is wrapped around his as we head up the long driveway into the Wayne mansion. 

Bruce looks at the top of my head, “I should tomorrow Lois wants to get the story out and I want to tell everyone and not have the ones who know me to find out through a paper.”  I nod my head as we approach the door. Bruce leans in and kisses me and suddenly I feel a sensation in my lower adamant, before his lips touch mine I let out a groan. “What?” The door opens, Alfred is standing behind Dick. “What?” Bruce asks again with wide eyes. His hands on my shoulders.

I put one hand on my stomach in a second that felt like an hour, “I think the baby just kicked.” I hear Dicks laugh from inside the home. “Kiss me again.” Bruce leaned in but not before I put his hand on my belly overtop the spot where I had felt the tiny movement.  Our lips touched and when his lips were to mine he smiled looking down our foreheads touching. “I don't think it's like kissing me.”

“Now get inside before you catch a chill.” Alfred said, we both turned our heads and saw Dick running up the steps. “Congratulations.”

We both say thank you to Alfred and once were in bed and in our pajamas, I'm reading a baby book and Bruce is doing research, the door opens, Dick, Tim, Steph, Jason, Cassie and Damian are all standing there, I look at Bruce and pat my head. 

Steph is the first one to put her hands on my stomach, “Where did the dino nugget kick?” She's on the bed between me and Bruce sitting on her knees. 

“Again, it's a no on Dino Nugget.” Bruce says and Dick crawls into bed next to Steph.

Jason and the other three  boys eventually made their way to the bed, cautiously Cassandra approached my stomach, I grabbed her hand slowly and placed it where the baby kicked, and then I felt that little tingle again, and Cassies face lit like a Christmas tree. She grabbed Stephs hand and placed it where hers was. Bruce leaned in and placed his head on my shoulder, I leaned and put my head on his and eventually as the night went on everyone felt the baby kick. Cassie fell asleep on the floor curled up in a ball, Dick and Steph were both in the bed on the end their limbs intertwined. Jason was asleep on the loveseat on the farside of the room, Tim was on the bed but ended up on the floor, and Duke had ended up under the bed. Damian was in the dead center of the room lying on his back. 

A few days later me and Bruce decided on a room for the baby, it was directly across the hall from our room, we haven't decided on a color for the baby room but Lois and Clark gave us a crib, we had also received gifts from the other members of the justice league, Green Lantern gave us a lamp, the flash gave us lighting bolt wall decals,and more gifts from everyone keeps coming. Everyone in the house wants to help us with the room but we wanted to do it ourselves, the kids were out patrolling and I was lying on the floor using Bruce as a pillow while going through paint swatches. “Nothing pink, nothing blue.” I mumble to myself as I flip through more swatches. 

Bruce strokes my hair with one hand while he flips through his pile, “Do we want light or dark?” 

“Light” I say laughing and then sitting up, “It's not the batcave.” I roll my shoulders. Bruce lets out a laugh as he stands up.

“I'll start putting the crib together and you can pick the paint.”

“How do we feel about pastels?” I asked as I shifted my weight, my back was killing me but i'd be damned if i don't get this done before the baby comes. “I like this shade of yellow, but it might be too light.” I go to stand up but I cant, Bruce sees me struggling and comes over to help me, I don't have to say anything but he helps me sit in the rocking chair that was given to us by the Teen Titans. I sigh at the relief and lean back and Bruce analizes me, I hate when he does it but hes a detective finding out whats wrong is his job, “My legs cramp.” I say as another pain rushes from my body as I push off from the floor to rock my chair. 

He drops to his knees gently as possible and slide off my slippers starting with my feet he begins massaging, I let out a moan of relief and then a laugh, “That tickles.” His hand worked over my sweatpant pushing in places that let out relief. I let out another laugh even harder than the first one. I lean forward and Bruce stops, I keep laughing, he looks concerned, “I cant stop… laughing.” He smiles. 

He lets out a laugh, I slide down onto the floor with him and we laugh together in the baby room with parts of a crib scattered everywhere and paint swatches discarded along the walls with a pile of stuffed animals and unopened gifts. We laugh for a few minutes before I start crying Bruce immediately pulls me at my shoulders into his chest, “I hate hormones.” He laughs in my ear, I let out an uncontrollable sob, my face is stained with tears with one hand wrapped around me, placed on my belly, Bruce using his other hand to wipe my tears.

“We heard crying!” Tim shouts as He, Dick, and Steph enter the room.

I try to wipe my tears but they keep coming next thing I know, Dickiebird, Steph and Tim are all on the floor next to us holding me. “We got you.” The five , six of us sat like that for about twenty minutes, until my tears stopped. 

After two days we gave up and decided to let everyone help with the nursery because we were getting nowhere, we had decided on a slightly darker version of the pastel yellow that I had originally picked out, the kids were helping Jason, who was painting designs on the already dry yellow, to paint. Dick and Bruce were putting together the crib. I was sitting in the rocking chair watching everyone, Alfred was hanging a photo with a white cover on it, He was gonna reveal the photo once he got it on the wall but for now it was just a white sheet. 

Alfred hammered the Photo into the wall in the the spot above where the crib will go when its done being built. Alfred leaves the white sheet there when hes done, Jason paints animals along the walls and I'm not sure how much time passes but I make myself useful by opening up all the old justice league gifts. 

Eventually  get up and head to the kitchen where Alffred has laid out snacks and I see Damian sitting alone, “Kid…”

“Am I going to be replaced?” He holds his head up and looks at me, with tears in his eyes, “I was the blood child and now there is going to be another,” he cuts himself off before he gets too emotional.  

“No, you weren't Bruces first kid and certainly wont be his last.” I shake my head looking him, “At the rate Bruce was going when I first met him, I was sure he was going to adopt every kid on the streets who even looked at him.” I put my hand on top of his, “Your just getting another sibling and although that seems like a lot right now trust me, you'll love it.”

Damian pulled his hand from mine and stood up, “If you could not tell father id appreciate it.” With that he walks away and out of the room, I eat a cookie off the tray and head back in the room hoping that boy knows no one in this house is ever replaced, we always make room, we always have room for more. 

I walked back into the baby room, just as Bruce and Dick were propping up the dark shaded crib against the wall. I walked up to it and ran my hand across the wood, “I love it.” Bruce wrapped his arm around my back as Alfred leaned in from the side and pulled the white cloth off from above the crib, it was a photo of the whole family standing side by side everyone was smiling, I turned and saw Bruces smiling face as the baby kicked, he felt it we both laugh, our baby would have its entire family watching over them. 

A few weeks later and Bruce has taken up the habit of talking to the baby, while he puts lotion on my stomach, he was telling a random anecdote and it was putting me to sleep. after, I got to sleep he continues to talk, until I have to get up to pee after that we both go to bed for real. 

I sleep on my left side and he wraps his arms around me, tomorrow I enter the beginning of the final three months. 

#batfam #bat fam #bat family headcannons #bat fam headcannons #bat family headcannon #batfamily headcannons #fanfiction #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #writing #pregancy headcannon #dc universe #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #love intrests #love intrest #batman fanfiction #alfred pennyworth #alfred #fiction #wattpad #orginal story #duke thomas #batfamily fanfic

[black-dragon1998]

Lost in another world part 3

thanks in advance for reading this. English is not my native language, so sorry for any mistakes you read.

part 3/3

part 1 part 2

The signal had been sent and the only thing you could do now was, wait. You did have to hand it to Stark he had good tech, not as good as the enhanced tech you and your mother had been able to develop with the knowledge you gathered from the fortress of solitude.

“So that’s it?” Tony had stayed by your side to see that you didn’t mess up his computers and was barely able to follow how you worked to access his satellite.

“yes, it’s that simple. I have a tracker in my suit that automatically sends a signal to my family every 10 minutes, the only thing I had to do was amplify the signal, coming from my suit so it would breach this space and time barrier.” You explained to him without looking at him. It really started to work on your nerves how much he doubted everything you did or said.

“Tony leave the girl alone.” Natasha said the moment she stepped into the lab. You quite liked her, she kind of reminded you of your aunt and it was a grounding feeling admits this chaos. This time you turned around in your chair and smiled at the woman.

“(Y/N), the others and I were going to start a little training session and were wondering if you liked to train with us for a bit?” at hearing this you jumped out of your chair. You had a lot of cooked up energy and were ready to blow off some steam.

 In the training room you saw that the rest of the Avengers had already suited up. “well if everybody is going to be in their suit, I might as well change too.” With that, you turned the watch you have on. Your suit manifested over your normal clothes and sealed itself around your faces. Like your mother, it bore the family symbol, but instead of a skirt, your suit was in one peace. Tapping the side of your head your mask disappeared and retraced itself into your suit. After that, you look at the team and smile.

 “so, who is first?” you say with a cocky smile.

“I will go first. Let’s see if you really can back up your talk.” Tony says while calling on his iron suit. you circled one another for a couple of seconds. You don’t know his fighting style, so you wait for him to make the first move. After a while, it seems like he was losing patience and charge at you with his suit hand raced ready to strike you in the chest. as he came close you saw the palm of his hand light up and it seemed like a powerful blast would come from it.

You just stood there and waited for him to strike. Just like you expected a blast did come out of his hand and you met it with your heat vision. It seemed like it was going back and forth with the blast for a while but as you grew tired of it you just intensified the blast. In no time your heat vision overpowered his blast and broke his metal arm.

“next.” Tony looked at you dumbfounded but didn’t say anything and stepped back. It were Steve and Bucky who stepped forward now.

 “let's see what you can do against the two of us.” Bucky said as he smashed his hands together. Steve in the meantime readied his shield. You could see that they were used to working together and moved like a well-oiled machine.

The stance they took looked like they were trained soldiers, and very used to fighting with one another. This could be fun, the only ones you were able to fight at the DEO were your mother and aunt. And both insisted it has to be under the effects of a red sunlamp. So, seeing how you would do at full force was kind of exciting.

You stood your ground when they advanced on you, ready to react when it was necessary. Unlike with Tony, this two immediately advanced on you so you, you took on a battle stance.

 A blue portal opened in the room you and the Avengers were training, you immediately recognized it for what it was and reassured them it wouldn’t harm them. “relax it’s not going to hurt you.” You say calmly.

“(Y/N) Astra Kieran Luthor Danvers Zor-EL!” at hearing your full name being yelled like that your calm demeanour was fast replaced as you turned to the team.

“about that not getting hurt, whatever you do don’t look her in the eyes and don’t interrupt her for anything, that only will make it worse.” You say in a hushed voice, afraid she might hear you. The Avengers looked confused at your reaction.

“(Y/N), who is that person?” Natasha asked. You took a big gulp before answering.

“my mother.” With that, a familiar blond stepped out of the portal. For a moment you forgot your fear and rushed to her to hug her.

“Jeju! I’m so glad to see you. I thought my signal hadn’t gotten true.” You confess burying your face in her shoulder. Kara immediately embraced you.

“I’m so glad to see you unharmed little one.” Your mother said holding you tighter. You stood there for a while holding each other tight.

“what are my chances, life in prison, death sentence.” You asked looking up at Kara while resting your head on her shoulder. You felled her body shake, for her trying to contain her laughter.

“that flair for the dramatic you so have from your mother.” She stated. Before you could respond Tony stepped forward.

“this the woman we shouldn’t make eye contact with?” he asked looking Kara up and down. “She doesn’t look all that intimidating.” He said with a raised eyebrow. this time Kara couldn’t hold in her laughter.

“Sorry sir, but I don’t think she is talking about me.” Kara said in all honesty. This made all of them confused.

“aren’t you’re her mother?” Wanda asked.

“yes, but not the one she is trying to avoid.” You had tried to sneak behind a couple of the Avengers, but she caught you red-handed. You stood up straight and gave her an innocent smile.

 “Kara! Where is she? She better be alright, because otherwise a whole lot of people are going to be sorry.” The voice of your other mother cutting the air like a knife made you try to hide behind Kara this time. You actually saw a couple of the Avengers take a few steps back, smart men.

“she is alright love, she is the one who sent us the signal,” Kara said while grabbing your shoulder and dragging you in front of her, so you were in full view of your mothers lasering eyes. You didn’t dare to meet her gaze as she stepped closer.

“Hey, mum.” You say shyly. Like with Kara you were pulled into another bone-crushing hug. This was the moment it hit you how much you had missed your parents.

“are you sure you’re alright? No scratches, no bruises?” she asked looking you over.

“no mum, I’m alright.” You say a little embraced. Your family reunion was disturbed by a very confused billionaire.

“hold on for a moment, so you are both her parents?” Lena stood in front of you and Kara, feeling this was a discussion that would require her CEO skills instead of Supergirl skills.

“yes (Y/N) is ore biological daughter, problems.” Lena glares at Tony with, which makes him gulp. Maybe you were right to tell to not make eye contact with her.

“Sweetheart, take it easy,” Kara whispered into her wife’s ear while pulling her against her.

“We don’t know who these people are and (Y/N) seems pretty comfortable around them,” Kara said, trying to reassure her wife.

“Stop saying me to calm down!” Your mother almost yelled stepping away from Kara. “I have been unaware of my daughter's whereabouts for 72 hours and I’m in no mood to calm down.” Lena raged. Kara raised her hands figuring she wasn’t going to win this fight.

Sensing it might be best for you to step in you hugged her again. “I’m okay mom.” You tell her again. like you hoped she hugged you back and held for a couple of seconds.

“feeling better?” you ask when you pull back. Lena can smile again, so you knew it would be alright again.

“now that I know you are safe, yes.” She says. “I like you to meet my new friends.” You say turning to the Avengers.

“mom, Jeju I like you to meet the Avengers. They are like the Justice League,” you beam as introduce them. “the one in the iron suit is Tony Stark, he is like ore batman. The one with the shield is Steve, he reminds me of uncle Clark. The man next to Steve is Bucky, his best friend. The woman with the red hair is Natasha, she is an actual assassin. Next to her is Clint her partner. The girl in the red outfit is Wanda, she has these crazy cool powers and finally next to her is Vision. Vision is an android.” You were rambling of these facts in your excitement, this made your mother smile. This was definitely a trade you had from Kara.

 Kara stepped forward stretching out her hand toward Steve. “I like to thank you for taking care of our daughter. It really means a lot to us someone was there to take care of her while we couldn’t.” “not a problem Kara. She is a sweet kid.” Steve answered while they looked at you, saying goodbye to everybody. “she can be a hand full, but she has a big heart.” Kara couldn’t help but smile.

 “bye, everybody.” You jell behind you before stepping to the portal that would take you back home. Seems your moms had opened one up in the Livingroom of your house. When the portal closed behind you three, Lena turned to you with a stoic face.

 “alright hand it over!” without protest, you dug the portal device out of your pockets and handed it to her. Hoping that would be it, you started to turn away.

“and the watch.” She did raise her voice when she said this, but you knew not to argue you had seen this coming. “you are grounded and released from superhero duties for three months.” Lena simply stated. You could help the pout ore the whine. “moooom.” “We could always make it four.” She answered raising an eyebrow. You quickly shut up, with Lena Luthor those were no empty threats. Instead, you turned to Kara. “sorry ukiem, I’m with your mother on this one.”

“I’m sorry, I know I scared you guy’s.” both your mother's eyes softened as they kissed you.

“We know you are.” Lena said into your hair. “the grounding still stands.”

want to support me Buy me a Ko-fi

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers x daughter reader #kara danvers #lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x daughter reader #Avengers #tony stark #tony stark x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rodgers x reader #Iron Man #captain america #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #Black Widow #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #Scarlet Witch #clint barton #hawkeye #bucky barnes #winter soldier #vision

[yeenybeanies]

Gone Hunting pt. 3

final installment probably! At least for this little story. This one took a hot minute to get out, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  also as a sidenote: devin doesn’t care what pronouns people refer to them as. most people, arthur included, refer to them as she/her, & they could not care less  

arthur morgan, charles smith, & devin clarke ( oc ) 

1586 words

language, blood, and some violence warnings

feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!! 

part 1 | part 2 

" I heard it that time. ”  

“ Shh! Quiet! Don’t wanna wake them––– ” 

“ Is it far away? Sounds so faint–––”  

“ ARTHUR WAKE UP!! ”  Devin ducks and scuttles along their sleeping cowboy companion’s side, trying desperately to rouse him. The quiet crunch of boots on rock and sand reaches their ears as one of the bandits comes into view. The borrower freezes, not even daring to breathe. They intend to stay silent, but the second bandit looms right over Arthur’s middle, and over them. They can’t help it; they let out a squeak, which has both bandits looking right down at them. 

Oh no. 

Devin swears their heart stops for a moment. There’s no way the bandits don’t see them. Panic threatens to overwhelm them, but they do manage to secure one clear thought: if they run, they might be able to distract the bandits long enough for Arthur to wake up. 

And so they run. They bolt. They dash away from Arthur, fighting every instinct that screams, begs for them to find cover. They run towards the fire pit, placing themself even more into view. They even wave their hands! And make noise! Oh, they are going to get themself killed for this useless goddamn cowboy! 

“ What the hell is that thing? ” 

“ Might be worth somethin’! ” 

The bandit further from Arthur takes one step forward, only to stop short as a flash of silver sails through the air just in front of his face. A gross, gurgling noise draws attention to the second bandit, now clutching his neck around that silver––a throwing knife––buried into his flesh. He stumbles, tripping over Arthur and falling onto him. 

Finally Arthur wakes up. He jolts with a start to see a man bleeding out on his lap with a knife in his neck, and another man running towards––towards Charles! And Charles, being the badass he is, needs only to flick his wrist again and send another knife flying. It embeds its way into the bandit’s left eye, dropping him on the spot. 

Arthur blinks, a little slow to process what’s just happened in the five seconds he’s been awake. When everything clicks, he flinches, pushing the now-dead bandit off of his lap, and clutches his hat to his chest. 

“ Devin? ”  The worry is thick in his voice. He peeks under the hat, only to find the borrower missing. Fear sets in quickly, like ice in his veins. Arthur twists, looking around himself frantically.  “ Devin? Devin, where––– ” 

“ A-Arthur . . .! ”  

His head snaps up.  “ Devin? ”  

“ So you two do know each other. ”  Charles says, shifting to stand from his crouched position. His hands are cupped before him. Peeking just over his curled fingers, Arthur can see the top of a tiny head–––

“ Devin! ”  Arthur scrambles up to his feet. There’s Devin! . . . in Charles’ hands . . .. It hits him like a landslide. Devin is in Charles’ hands! Charles is holding Devin! Who is supposed to be a secret!  “ Er . . .. ” 

“ So this is  ‘ Devin, ’  then? ”  Charles glances down at the little being. They look . . . terrified. They stare right back up at him with big ( relatively speaking ) brown eyes. Charles feels a twinge of guilt for scaring them ( how would he feel if he was caught in the palm of some giant being? ) but he doesn’t see much a way to avoid it.

Arthur thinks his heart has stopped. With how his mouth is hanging open, he’d think that he’d be bound to catch a fly. A few guttural noises, a weak attempt at speech in this shocking moment, leave him, but nothing is coming just yet. He isn’t sure where to look: to Charles or to Devin. 

“ . . . Arthur? ”  The man’s dumbfounded look is enough to draw Charles’ attention away from the little being in his hold.  “ Are you going to say something? You have a fair bit of explaining to do. ” 

“ Uhm . . .. ”  All eyes drop back down, following the squeak from Charles’ hands.  “ It was an, uhm––an accident, ”  Devin offers. They struggle to minimize the shake in their voice. Charles lifts a brow.  “ I’m not suppose to be here, and, uh . . . you weren’t supposed to see me. ” 

“ She’s––she’s a friend a’ mine, ”  Arthur manages finally. He swallows down his unease and clears his throat.  “ She and I were talkin’ when you came to my tent, and I had to hide her, and . . . well . . . here she is now. ” 

“ Where did you . . . hide her? ”  

“ His hat. ”  The borrower answers before Arthur can, a hint of their prior resentment resurfacing. Charles frowns at Arthur. 

“ You put her in your hat? ”  His voice is flat, unimpressed.  “ That’s why you’ve been acting weird. You couldn’t just, I don’t know, discretely set her down somewhere to avoid this whole thing? ” 

If Devin were in better spirits, they might chime in again to chastise Arthur as well. That’s what they’d said the whole ride over! But Arthur already got that earful for a good portion of that ride. 

“ W-well, I––how could I? You didn’t give me much opportunity to––I mean . . .. ”  first he had to hear it from Devin, and now from Charles? Arthur huffs.  “ Can we just––– ”  he needs to refocus ( change the subject ).  “ Devin. Are you alright? Not hurt, are ya? ”  

The borrower perks up. They still look uncomfortable, scared, but they seem to be calming down . . . a little. Arthur’s fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and lift them from Charles’ hands, but he isn’t sure that’d ease them any. 

“ I, uh . . . no, I’m not hurt. ”  They look up between Arthur and Charles, feeling awkward and very, very small. Earlier today was the first time Arthur had ever held them, and now they’re in the hands of someone they don’t know. 

“ Well. ”  Charles shifts his hold, offering the borrower to Arthur, who immediately cups his own hands to accept them. Understandably, they aren’t too thrilled with being passed about, but Charles figures they might be a bit more comfortable with someone they know.  “ Devin. I’m Charles Smith. ”  He bends down, getting almost to their eye level. His lips quirk up slightly in what he hopes to be a reassuring smile.  “ Any friend of Arthur’s is a friend of mine. And I think I’m a bit better at keeping secrets than he is. ” 

Arthur groans.  “ I reckon I’ll be apologizin’ for this one for weeks . . .. ”  His fingers straighten, letting both parties see each other better. Yeah. This has been quite the mess, this hunting trip. 

“ Try months, ”  Devin corrects. Whether there’s any merit in that correction or not is up for debate ( though more likely not; they do have a soft spot for the cowboy, despite everything ). Arthur can only shoot them a sheepish look. 

" We should get rid of these bodies, ”  Charles says, straightening back to his full height.  “ And you should change your pants. ” 

Arthur grimaces and looks down at himself. His pants are soaked and splotched with blood, still wet and sickeningly warm. Thankfully he has another pair in his saddlebag. He can change after they’ve moved the dead bandits. Fingers curl inward again to cup around Devin so Arthur can move them somewhere safe and out of the way. 

“ Devin, I–I’ll say it a thousand times, ”  he starts, knelt and setting the borrower down on a rock,  “ as many times as I got to: I really am sorry for this, er . . . debacle. Hope you’d know I never mean to put you in any sort’a danger. ” 

“ Hey. ”  Devin reaches out before Arthur can fully pull his hand away, settling their tiny hands on his index finger.  “ I know. I do know, Arthur. Just get me home safe and we’re square, okay? Sound like a deal? ”  They pat that finger and offer up a smile––the first they’ve given Arthur since before they left this afternoon. He can’t help but return it, nor can he help the warm feeling blooming in his chest.

“ You have my word, Miss Devin, ”  he promises. 

Charles waits for Arthur by the bodies, having removed his knives from their respective throat and eye socket. Once Arthur joins him, the two men set to carrying the corpses one at a time away from their campfire. They dump them a few-hundred yards out, far enough away so that any scavengers they might attract wouldn’t bother the camp. 

Upon their return, Devin is still where Arthur left them, much to his relief. He quickly changes into his clean pants, and settles down next to the rock he’d set them on with a heavy sigh. Charles does the same on the other side, albeit a little farther away, not wanting to crowd Devin. 

“ Quite a day, ”  Arthur muses. 

“ You can say that again. ”  Devin huffs a sigh of their own and sits down, leaning against Arthur’s resting arm. To put things lightly, it’s been a stressful day for the both of them. Devin looks over at Charles, studying him for a moment. They’re sure he’s doing the same, if not more subtly. It’s strange to not hide from him, but they managed to get through it with Arthur. They can get used to Charles just the same.  “ Devin Clarke, ”  they say. 

Charles hums, looking at them directly. 

“ My name, ”  they continue.  “ I realize I, uh, didn’t fully introduce myself earlier. ” 

His expression softens, a smile curving his lips.  “ Nice to meet you, Miss Clarke. ” 

“ Just  ‘ Devin. ’  We’re . . . all friends here. ”  

They should get some rest, all of them. Tomorrow still awaits, continuing the debacle, as Arthur called it. At least now, though, Devin doesn’t need to hide––not until they get back to camp.

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #g/t rdr #rdr #arthur morgan #charles smith #devin clarke #hyena writes #hyena ocs #i don't like this one as much but :shrugs:

[in-your-language]

If I Can’t Have You

Hello! So I ended up deciding to post this (thanks to anyone that commented on my last post!), I hope it’s okay <3

Summary:

"The number of times he had slipped into a daydream where he finally gathered the confidence to ask Sam out was ridiculous in its own right, but really, how could it be his fault when Sam was constantly walking around looking like that."

A.k.a Grizz is very much into Greek tragedies and Sam Eliot.

[AO3 link in the reblog]

~

Grizz had somewhat of a committed relationship with Greek tragedies, and Wikipedia pages about Greek tragedies, and books about Greek tragedies. He also had somewhat a committed relationship with Sam Eliot’s Instagram profile, given how much he brought it up on his phone, but that was a matter for another time.

 “The Trojan Women,” he announced louder than intended as he set the play down in front of Gordie. 

 The boy smiled, watching with curious eyes as Grizz took the seat opposite him. “I’m starting to think you have a thing for tragedies, Grizz. Sure you’re okay?” 

 “They have the best lines,” he explained, smiling back at Gordie as he began flicking through. “If it's not a tragedy then the characters don’t have any time to get all deep and philosophical.” 

 “But of course. Grizz the random reciter of meaningful play lines.”

 “I take my job very seriously,” Grizz nodded, smile widening when Gordie began to laugh.

 It was a miserable Thursday afternoon, with rain splattering against the windows and pattering against the roof. The large yellow lamps hanging above their head provided the library with warmth, particularly in comparison to the dull atmosphere outside. 

 “So what have you found out about it?” asked Gordie, leaning forward in his seat. 

 “Well - it was written during the Peloponnesian War,” he responded, eyes flicking over some of his annotations. “The Athenians were getting ready to dispatch a massive expeditionary force to attack Sicily. Very nice of them.” 

 Gordie moved around the table then, settling down in the seat beside Grizz, and their discussion about the historical context alone ended up lasting about 40 minutes. Wars were complicated in Grizz’ defence.

 It was when the bell chimed, alerting them to other students, that Grizz allowed his eyes to wander. It was Sam who walked in, alongside his friend Becca. She was signing animatedly to him, whilst he looked over with a smile.

 Grizz didn’t lose his composure often, but seeing Sam that day, hair disarrayed from the beanie he was wearing, smile bright enough to light up a whole damn room, suddenly it felt like the world was collapsing around him.

 Sam’s eyes found his across the room as they always did, and he offered Grizz a playful smile before returning his attention to Becca again. Grizz let out a scarily lovesick-sounding sigh.

 Gordie chose that moment to clear his throat, eyebrows shooting up knowingly as he looked over at Grizz. He hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to be careful with his words.

 “You know...I’m not sure if you’ve seen, but there’s this movie called Love, Simon that seems pretty cool. It’s not a Greek tragedy but we could still watch it sometime if you wanted.”

 Grizz snorted. The subtlety was astounding.

 “Um,” he paused, trying to bite back a smile. Gordie was only trying to be supportive, after all. “Yeah, sure. That’d be nice. Saturday at my place?” 

 “Sounds like a plan! I’ll bring the popcorn.” 

 Grizz glanced back at Sam again, before sighing again and standing up from his chair. “I should probably get back to the team now, I’m sorry. Another session next Monday at lunch?” he asked, carefully closing the books that were scattered across the table and placing them in his bag. 

 “Sure,” said Gordie, following suit. He looked over at Sam too this time, smiling wide. “He’s cute,” he added, before turning around and heading towards the exit. 

 Grizz was left standing there for a moment, completely dumbfounded. He heard a giggle in the corner of the room, and he looked over to find Becca covering her mouth with her hand, Sam laughingly shushing her. He tried to ignore the pang of hurt in his chest as he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way over to the exit. 

 Who was he kidding, he thought miserably as he walked, splashing through grey puddles. She was beautiful - everything Sam could’ve ever wanted. 

 ~

 “Now - what are we gonna do, guys?” Clark asked fiercely, fist raised in the air. 

 Grizz rolled his eyes and disappeared as subtly as he could into the background, preferring not to get involved with all the shouting. 

 “We’re gonna smash it!” came the responding chorus from the football team, Luke’s and Jason’s voices somewhere within the mix. 

 He looked out at the grandstands, shaded against the beaming sunlight that had broken up their week of rain. He was looking for someone in particular - he always was - but that didn’t mean he was going to admit it to himself. Butterflies flooded his stomach when a pair of blue eyes met his own, and suddenly he felt about twelve years old all over again. 

 Sam offered him another wave (they seemed to be getting more frequent and the idea of that terrified Grizz as much as it excited him), taking his hat off his head and holding it out in front of him. Grizz squinted for a moment as he read it, then a wide smile appeared on his face.

 It had ‘Go sports!!’ printed on it, and Grizz suddenly felt so much fondness for this boy that it was slightly overwhelming. 

 Despite never having exchanged anything beyond ‘hi,’ he had somehow managed to develop a full-blown, all-consuming crush on Sam Eliot and honestly, it was kind of ruining his life. Once, he was so caught up in Sam smiling at him that he walked into a pole for starters. The number of times he slipped into a daydream where he finally gathered the confidence to ask Sam out was ridiculous in its own right, but really, how could it be his fault when Sam was constantly walking around looking like that.

 Suddenly there was clicking in front of his face, and he tuned back into the real world to find Clark hovering in front of him. “Dude, the game’s starting! How the fuck are you day-dreaming now?” 

 Grizz immediately sprung to his feet with a hurried “sorry”, shaking his limbs out as he followed Clark onto the field. 

 The sound of a loud, shrieking whistle soon filled the air and all the boys around him were off. Grizz couldn’t help but sneak glances over at Sam, and when he wasn’t doing that the boy somehow managed to stay on his mind regardless. His movements all felt contrived, and his limbs weren’t cooperating, and yeah okay - who the fuck gave Sam the right? 

 There was insistent sunlight beaming down on him, and constant shouts ringing out in the air, and all Grizz could think about is what it would be like to feel Sam’s lips pressed against his. 

 He hated his brain sometimes. 

 It wasn’t a spectacular fail in the end - they won - but it was uncomfortably close for the team’s liking, and the general consensus was that Grizz had messed up big time. 

 “Dude, where the fuck was your mind that whole game?!” Clark exclaimed, waving a hand in front of his face. 

 “Fuck off, Clark. I was just having a bad day,”  Grizz muttered as he shimmied into a pair of jeans.

 “I’ve never seen you that off your game though,” Luke chimed in, walking over to the boy and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sure you’re okay, bud?” 

 Grizz hesitated for a moment, gaze wondering past Luke’s shoulder, before letting out a resigned sigh. “There’s just this person I like that I haven’t really been able to get out of my head.”

 Jason, who had been changing off to the side, froze almost instantly at the words. Clark had a huge grin painted across his face, while Luke seemed shocked more than anything. 

 Grizz didn’t blame them. He was rarely one to talk about romantic feelings no matter how much the boys prodded him, always shutting down any mention of the topic. But now that Sam had come into the picture and Grizz was reconsidering his whole stance on not coming out until College... 

 “Who’s the girl that’s finally managed to melt your heart of ice then, man?” Clark asked him, looking overly pleased by the confession. 

 “I’m not telling you guys,” Grizz said simply, shrugging as he pulled a shirt over his head.

 Luke’s mouth fell open. “What?! Why?” 

 “You won’t know her,” he insisted, pushing past Clark to grab his gym bag. 

 “At least a description?” Jason begged, hands clasped together in front of him.

 Grizz looked over at the trio, gaze hard, before rolling his eyes and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Ginger hair. Blue eyes. Wears a lot of sweaters. Into books. That’s all you’re getting,” he told them, before leaving the change rooms. 

 Jason looked after him, shaking his head. “So he’s into a nerd then?”

 “Don’t knock nerds,” said Luke with a shrug as he pulled on his own shirt. 

 “Is there even a ginger girl in our year?” Clark asked. 

 Grizz just shook his head as he walked away, trying hard to bite back a smile. 

 ~

 Grizz had never been the scandalous kind, but looking across the room at Sam he came to the conclusion he’d happily sneak around with that boy forever if it meant being with him. That is, if that’s what Sam wanted of course, which he didn’t. The rumours around Sam being gay were just that. Rumours. And Grizz couldn’t bring himself to believe that Sam didn’t like Becca with the way he looked at her.

 That’s why it was a little startling for Grizz to be pulled into a random janitor’s closet by Sam of all people. Given the context, it hadn’t been totally weird. A practise intruder alarm had sounded across the school while Grizz was out collecting something from his locker. Perfect timing, if you ask him. Before he knew it, the classroom doors were being locked and the blinds were being drawn, leaving him standing there like an idiot until Sam pulled him aside.

 The good news was that he wasn’t going to be told off by a teacher for being out and about. The bad news was that he was currently stood in the world’s smallest janitor’s closet, so close to Sam that he could barely breathe.

 Grizz blindly reached for the light switch, and after a few failed attempts the lamp hanging above their heads flickered on. 

 He swallowed thickly. “Hey.” 

 Sam smiled apologetically. “Hey. Sorry for being so sudden,” he responded, signing along.

 “It’s okay,” he smiled back, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

 Grizz wracked his brain for any ASL he knew, but frustratingly enough he came up blank. Well - except for...

 Bullshit, he signed, which had Sam bringing a hand up to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

 “It’s the only sign I know,” he explained, feeling a blush rising on his cheeks as he spoke. 

 Sam nodded, smile fond as he leaned back against the wall. Grizz cleared his throat, hands nervously clasped together in front of him. 

 “I um...I liked your hat! From the game.” 

 “Oh, thank you. I worked very hard on it,” said Sam with a nod, voice playful.

 Grizz actually fucking giggled at that, and for a second he was convinced that he had actually somehow managed to become twelve again. 

 The alarm was still blaring around them, and for a few moments, Grizz had almost forgotten about it. He bit his lip as he returned his gaze to Sam, obnoxious little butterflies filling his stomach. 

 Sam smiled faintly. “I see you looking at me a lot,” he spoke, hands signing along. 

 Grizz, without seeming dramatic, wanted the ground to swallow him up whole so he’d never have to deal with this conversation. This conversation with a cute boy who had definitely noticed all of his creepy staring.

 “Sorry,” he managed, blushing like an idiot all over again. “It's uh...something I do a lot. Zone out.” 

 Sam raised an amused eyebrow. “So it’s just zoning out?” 

 Grizz bit his lip and nodded, heart racing now.

 “That’s a shame. I thought maybe you liked me.” 

 And suddenly Grizz was considering the idea of this being a dream because what the actual fuck did Sam just say? His heart couldn’t take this. 

 “I - wait - um, do you...do you like me?” he spluttered out, embarrassed beyond belief. 

 Sam just smiled teasingly and shrugged, seeming about ten times more confident than Grizz felt.

 “I don’t know. Do you like me?” 

 Grizz hesitated for a moment, looking anywhere but Sam as he contemplated on how the hell he should respond. 

 “...Yeah,” he managed, voice higher than he would’ve liked, but then he remembered that he was an idiot and the boy couldn’t hear him anyway.

 Sam gave him a beaming smile.

 I...like...you...too, he signed, movements slow. Grizz got the message, and he honestly had to refrain from pinching himself.

 There they were - standing under a dangling yellow light amongst cleaning supplies in a closet that was criminally small, looking at one another as though waiting for something more. Waiting for one of them to break. 

 Sam swallowed, hints of nervousness shining through as he took a step forward, and that was enough for him to be right in Grizz’ space. Grizz let out a shaky exhale, bringing his hands up to rest on the boy’s waist. He had no idea whatsoever what he was doing, but he at least wanted to look as though he did.

 Sam took this a cue, smiling slightly as he shuffled forward, allowing Grizz’s arms to wrap fully around his waist, before looping his arms loosely around Grizz’s neck.

 Grizz was vaguely aware in the back of his mind that the alarm had stopped by now, but that seemed so distant he ended up ignoring it.

 Sam inched closer, on his tippy toes now, and Grizz’ heart was officially soaring. He closed the final gap between them both, brushing his lips against Sam experimentally before drawing back again. Sam chased him, pulling him in and firmly connecting their lips. 

 Yeah. Okay. Grizz could definitely confirm the real thing was far better than imagining it, because holy shit.Sam’s lips were soft and slightly chapped against his own, and his hands were feather-light against his skin, brushing up his arms now (when had they left his neck?) Why he had wasted so much time pining when kissing felt this good was absolutely beyond him.

 From that point on he relied almost entirely on instinct, which must’ve explained why he was suddenly lifting Sam up and setting him down on the wooden crate behind them, never disconnecting their lips. Sam pulled away for a moment, eyes alight with mischief as he gave Grizz a playful smile, before pulling the boy back in, hands travelling up to his hair now and tugging ever so slightly. The action pulled a small (embarrassing) gasp from Grizz, and he felt Sam’s smile widen.

 It was when they heard shouting outside that they jumped apart, Sam hopping down from the wooden crate and Grizz frantically attempting to straighten his shirt. The door to the closet was thrown open and Luke was stood there, Clark and Jason right behind him. 

 Grizz swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “Uh. Hey guys.” 

 “We’ve been looking all over for you dude!” exclaimed Clark. “What are you doing in here?” 

 “The classrooms were locked,” explained Grizz as he stepped out into the corridor, Sam following close behind. “It seemed like the next best place.” 

 Luke was still looking between him and Sam, eyes narrowed sceptically. Grizz saw his eyes travel from Sam’s hair, to his face, to his sweater to - oh fuck he’s worked it out. 

 It didn’t take a genius, Grizz supposed. He and Sam were still panting a bit, shirts and hair in disarray, glances at one another awkward. That, on top of his blatant description of Sam, really wasn’t helping him in the slightest.

 “Let's go, guys,” Luke said suddenly. 

 Clark and Jason gave him incredulous looks. “Why?” 

 “Let’s just fucking go, okay? Teacher’s probably waiting for us anyway,” he repeated, dragging them both with him down the corridor. He glanced over his shoulder when he reached the corner, giving Grizz a wink. Grizz smiled gratefully and gave him a wave in return. 

 “That was fun,” said Sam, smiling over at the boy. 

 Grizz bit back a smile of his own and nodded, giddiness setting in over what had happened. 

“We should uh...do it again sometime? Maybe not at school, though...unless you want to.” 

 Sam’s smile took a mischievous edge. He leaned over to press a quick kiss to Grizz’s cheek. “I don’t mind school, but maybe we could see each other over the weekend? My parents aren’t home on Sunday.”

 Grizz smiled. “It’s a date.”

#gram #grizzam #grizz visser #sam eliot #the society #fics #my fics

[irisouy]

Why I still believe in bellarke after S5

At the end of season 5 I wrote some meta about The100 that I did not publish. Season 6 arriving in April, I feel I should at least publish some of the content I wrote back then. And yes of course my first meta is about my OTP: Bellarke. So here is my first piece: how much I loved bellarke in season 5.

Disclaimer: this is my perception of season 5. I am a faithful bellarke believer and I do not hate any character, nor any cast member, nor any writer, nor producer. You have the right to disagree with my point of view, and if it’s the case just disregard my meta. No need to be angry, nor rude. Constructive criticism only. Beware, because I mention B.echo a lot in this meta.

Season 5 ended and so did the hopes of many bellarkers in the fandom; many feel betrayed and/or baited, others have just simply lost faith. For the very few who read me (trust me I am not a popular blog), you should know by now that I am not a disappointed bellarker and that I really enjoyed season 5.

Why do I still have faith? Because so far all I have seen about them is consistent and steady, slow… indeed, but very much steady.

Here are the points I am going to be discussing regarding the evolution of Bellarke during S5:

Reestablishing their partnership and connection

B.echo a tool to propel romantic bellarke

Betrayals to ground bellarke into reality 

Let’s dig into the season, shall we?

1.      Reestablishing their partnership and connection

At the end of season 4 when Bellarke was separated and the time jump was introduced I was pissed. I thought the twist was great, but I knew what it meant for my favorite ship: more delay. Indeed, this meant that all the escalating closeness and build-up between those two characters would take a major setback.

So when season 5 started I could not wait to have the bellarke reunion, because I was aware they would need to restore build-up because 6 years is a big deal. I hoped the build-up would be quick, but of course, this is The 100 we’re talking about and we all know that Bellarke is on top of the food chain when speaking about slow-burn love stories. The first step then was to reestablish the connection between two characters that spent 6 years apart and who started the season with two very different mind-frames:

On one hand we have Bellamy thinking he left Clarke behind to her death and having to cope with his guilt and move on with that idea at the same time. On the other hand, we have Clarke who has spent 6 years isolated with a child but has kept her hope that one day, Bellamy and Spacekru would come down.

At this point the problem with Bellarke is obvious: Bellamy has moved on and buried his remaining feelings for Clarke deep down, while Clarke has been waiting for him all along but is stuck with her memories of him. They both kept endearing memories of each other but they are not the same people anymore. And none of them are ready to open-up about the feelings they have for each other (yet).

When Bellamy finds out Clarke is alive and he swoops in to save her from Diyoza and delivers the infamous “She is”, I, just like all bellarkers was in awe. The subsequent hug was also beautiful and so intimate that I was surprised, because 6 years had passed, but it was obvious their connection was still there, it was real. The episodes started flowing one after the other and it was astonishing how they instantly moved back into their partnership: communicating through looks, moving in unison.

And then we got them acknowledge in canon that they were the “Heart and the Head” giving us a throwback of their conversation from the finale of Season 4: this marked the return of their bond.

Of course, us Bellarkers know that their non-romantic partnership is no longer enough… neither for us, nor for them. So how do you propel Bellarke into romantic territory, knowing that all they’ve had until now is a deep loving partnership? They have never been involved romantically with each other, and even though I believe they have been pining for each other for a while now, none of them thinks the other considers them in “that way”. They are both clueless about their real feelings.

So I believe the writers had to do something to stir things up and propel Bellarke towards a clear romantic path (or clearer). That’s where they decided to use a tool that had great advantages for them: B.echo.

2.      B.echo a tool to propel romantic bellarke

I know B.echo has clearly been controversial this season and for good reason: it was yet another obstacle put in the way of Bellarke. But as much as I don’t enjoy B.echo (although I don’t hate E.cho as a character, but again I don’t hate any character), it was not only an obstacle, it also was a “propeller”.

Yeah, you might think I’m crazy, but I am very much convinced of it and here’s why.

B.echo was first a tool to further Bellamy’s character development. Yes, he started a relationship with a former enemy, someone who tried to kill his sister, Clarke and who killed many of Bellamy’s people (Gina was not killed directly by her, it was another IN assassin who did the deed). E.cho was an antagonist in season 3 and 4, so starting season 5 with Bellamy in a full-on relationship with her was a big controversial move. But it was big mostly for Bellamy because it was an indicator of how much he had changed and grown during the 6 years spent in space. B.echo showed that not only Bellamy was able to move forward in his life, but that he learned to forgive himself and mostly others. Way back in season 4 I believed E.cho would play a role in Bellamy’s redemption arc because he needed to start seeing others as people who make choices just like him: not everything is black or white.

But if the existence of B.echo was the sign of Bellamy’s change, it was not the cause: leaving Clarke to die was. Throughout those 6 years Clarke remained a vivid memory and Bellamy lived his life with Clarke’s last words engraved in his head and heart. Bellamy’s change started because he wanted to live to Clarke’s expectations, dedicating his whole life to her. However, Clarke was a memory of a partner, not a romantic one, and with time passing, Bellamy buried deep down his burgeoning romantic feelings for Clarke.

Then it turns out that Clarke is alive. Bellamy is of course beyond thrilled, but it’s been too long and there are too many things going on for him to process what he really feels for Clarke. It seems that he has compartmentalized Echo being his girlfriend, Clarke being his long lost best friend and partner in crime. But then comes the scene where Bellamy poisons his sister in to save Clarke. This was fucking HUGE (excuse my language).

First, we had a direct comparison of B.echo’s relationship (romantic) with Bellarke’s relationship (not romantic yet) with the “traitor who you love” line from Octavia. This was made intentionally for Bellamy to realize that what he feels for Clarke is similar in nature to what he feels for E.cho: it is certainly NOT platonic. But the fact that Bellamy went to the most extreme lengths to save Clarke while he didn’t do it for E.cho speaks volumes about the intensity of his feelings.

So, in this case his relationship with E.cho has put in light the fact that:

His feelings for Clarke are romantic in nature

His feelings for Clarke are way more intense than those he has for E.cho

Not too shabby!

But B.echo has also helped Clarke consider her “pal” Bellamy as maybe more than that?

Obviously, Clarke’s close-ups while B.echo was kissing in two occasions where not an accident. That was intentional to show Clarke’s reaction: she is shocked and dumbfounded. You can clearly see that she doesn’t like it, she is very much bothered. Why would she feel bad that her “pal” Bellamy is making out with another woman? Well maybe because Clarke’s feelings for him are not platonic. Seeing B.echo together made Clarke well aware that she loves Bellamy romantically. She feels jealousy and sadness at the same time, because she is not in Bellamy’s life anymore, he has moved on, she lost her chance (at least that’s what she’s thinking).

And then we had the E.cho-Clarke scene which has caused a lot of controversy in the fandom, especially when E.cho calls out Clarke for “now caring” for Bellamy. You may like or not like the fact that E.cho is the one calling Clarke out on her feelings for Bellamy, but what I see here is Clarke’s response: “I always cared!” she responds right away, indignant. 

Once again, E.cho is used as a tool to show our protagonists’ feelings for each other. E.cho is used to stir things up…. And it works! Not just on the characters, but on the fandom as well, might I say.

The “I always cared” comes as a call back to L.exa’s “you care about him” when Clarke was denying caring about him in particular. But now, look at that, she doesn’t deny it, and doesn’t hesitate for one second.

So, you may not like E.cho, and that is absolutely fine, but when looking back at her character in season 5, she only really was used for one main purpose: stir romantic emotions between Bellarke.

Put it in your head: E.cho is only a tool at the service of Bellarke.

 3.      Betrayals to bring bellarke back to reality (to ground bellarke into reality)

The final obstacle for a romantic bellarke after the 6-year delay in their relationship was grounding their new-found relationship back to the reality of who they are now, and not who they were 6 years ago. Indeed, for 6 years both lived with a representation of who the other was: it was a mental picture of the other that escalated into a sort of persona that no longer existed.

But during those 6 years, both have evolved, both have found people they love and want to protect. Both carry their own trauma and are closed-off. How do you wake them up to the reality?

By showing who they are right now and breaking the illusion of the “perfect” image they had in their minds. That is why both Bellamy and Clarke betray each other during season 5.

Bellamy betrays Clarke by keeping her imprisoned while pushing Madi to accept he flame. He promised Clarke that he would protect Madi and she believed with all her heart that he would keep his promise. But she had in mind that he would do so the same way he used to: the way Bellamy used to protect his sister 6 years ago, not seeing the full picture, not caring about the wellbeing of others while doing so. However Bellamy has spent the 6 years of his life trying to fulfil the promise he made to Clarke: to lead with both his heart and head and he has succeeded in thinking and acting this way. He no longer rushes, he takes a step back and tries to assess the consequences of his actions. Clarke needed to realize that new side of Bellamy and the most effective way was by crushing the image she had of “Heart” Bellamy. But the thing is that Bellamy did keep his promise to protect Madi, just not the way she thought he would. This is the main difference and shocker for Clarke.

The same goes for Bellamy: he needed to realize that Clarke has been living alone with Madi for 6 years and that she has changed as well. She has undergone excruciating pain and loneliness: she is bruised and is no longer the cool-hearted leader she once was. All she has is Madi, she is her only world and family. Bellamy is going to be confronted to a Clarke who doesn’t think things through and who acts impulsively with only one thing in mind: her family, her person. And when she leaves Bellamy to die in the pit, his image of Clarke comes crashing down. He no longer is important to her, maybe he imagined that she once cared about him. The Clarke he has now in front of him has changed and is bruised: she trusts no one.

However why do I think this is positive for Bellarke?

Because to move onto a healthy romantic relationship, one needs to know the other person and see the person for who she/he is, not the representation one has in their heads. And the key element once they have confronted the reality is how they respond to it: do they hate each other and swear to not see each other anymore? Or do they accept this new person and move on from there?

The end of S5 clearly shows that they cannot envisage life without the other and that they are willing to accept the new person they have become. Clarke clearly showed that she regretted abandoning him to die and that she was relieved when she found out he was alive.

Bellamy only changed his mind when Madi revealed that Clarke had been calling him every day for 6 years. This proved that what hurt Bellamy the most was not that Clarke betrayed him, but that he thought she did not care about him anymore. Madi’s revelation proved him wrong, and in a heartbeat, he changed his attitude towards Clarke.

The following scenes between them clearly show that Bellarke is not done at all with each other. And the final shot speaks volumes about their relationship status.

Conclusion:

In S5 bellarke have found each other again, reassessed that they need each other in their lives and have accepted they are different people now.

So I believe that in S6 they have the perfect set up to finally become romantic. What about B.echo you might say? Well as I’ve mentioned, to me B.echo is merely an obstacle to Bellarke.

Keep in mind that Bellarke is a slow burn: every slow burn is given obstacles before they get to a love relationship. So writers “sprinkle” short to mid-term love interests throughout the seasons to:

Delay the central relationship from happening

Add drama

Teach lessons to their characters (character development)

And I am sorry to say it, but Finn and L.xa, from a pure story standpoint were only short-term love interests for Clarke (and Gina for Bellamy). Bellarke is always growing in the background…simmering. B.echo is not different from those relationships; it just delays the inevitable.

I truly believe that it’s JR intent to have romantic Bellarke and that we are not delusional: we clearly see the clues that the writers are throwing at us. For all those reasons I enjoyed Bellarke in season 5. Bellarke is the only relationship that has had a STEADY unwavering progression throughout the seasons… excruciatingly slow, yes, but steady.

Believe in bellarke. However, can they fucking kiss already?

#bellarke #The 100 #the 100 season 5 #meta #irisouy

[allthings-fantasy]

The Way Things Were (Part 4)

Author: @allthings-fantasy

Pairing: Bellamy x Reader

Word Count: 3631

Authors Notes: Heyo! Back in action. Enjoy reading!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  MASTERLIST

As the days passed, the communication between the Ark and the ground grew stronger. Raven was able to set up a video call. Kids were finally able to talk to their parents again, but not you. You couldn’t face your father after leaving him like you did, seeing his face would only amplify your guilt.

The air was growing colder each day, frost was starting to form on the grass in the mornings. Winter was coming and supplies were running low. You spent most the morning helping Jasper divide nuts and roots into rations packs. Keeping busy kept your mind off of things, Bellamy specifically. The two of you didn’t speak much, little conversations here and there, a spare touch once in a while, but nothing more. 

You watched as Clarke strutted across the camp, a backpack slung across her shoulder, Bellamy hot on her tail. Curiosity got the better of you, your gaze cautiously focusing on the two of them deep in a conversation. Bellamy was stuffing his own pack full of rations, it was enough to last him a few days. That’s when he felt your gaze, his eyes shifted upwards and met yours. You turned your head back to the work in front of you, acting as if you didn’t notice. “What’s got your panties all twisted?” Jasper snickered to himself as he tossed a nut into his own mouth. “Would it happen to deal with your brooding boyfriend, Bellamy Blake? Or is it ex-boyfriend now?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, causing you to groan. Grabbing a handful of nuts, you tossed them at his face. Smirking in victory when one hit him square in the eye. “What’s it to you anyway?”

Jasper’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Since you became Monty’s best friend, and me being Monty’s best friend, we are theoretically best friends. Therefore, your business is my business.”

Your eyes widened at his statement. You’ve always been acquaintances with Jasper, but you didn’t think he really liked you that much. “I thought I was Monty’s best friend?”

“I thought I was yours.” Your back straightened at the deep voice behind you. Jasper’s mouth opened to speak, but your harsh glare made his jaw snap shut.

Slowly turning around, you found the source of the voice standing in front of you. “Did you need something?” One of your eyebrows arched as you tied the ration bag in your hand closed.

Bellamy smiled down at you, before giving you a short nod. “Actually, yes. I do. Clarke apparently talked to Jaha and there is a supply bunker that should get us through winter. She wants me to come, and I want you to come.” He shrugged like he was talking about a walk through the park.

“Why do you want me to come? Clarke is more medically savvy than me, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly skilled in hunting.” Your gaze shifted over to Jasper as he politely excused himself. Bellamy’s one hand reached out and rested on your shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze.

“You haven’t been out of the camp since we found O. I thought you’d like going and seeing more…” He said it almost bashfully. “We’re leaving in five, okay? So pack a bag, but make sure you bring extra, you never know what can happen in a day.” And just like that, Bellamy turned on his heels and left you standing there. Dumbfounded.

“So, are you going to go with him?” You jumped at the sound of Jasper’s sudden voice, too focused on the man walking away from you.

Whipping around, you folded your arms over your chest. “What’s the worst the could happen?”

Jasper’s eyes widened to the size of discs. “Um, you could die? How am I going to explain to Monty and your father that I let you frolic through the woods?”

You didn’t think your eyes could roll any harder. “Jasper are you serious right now? Do you actually think Bell would let a grounder or a mutant animal hurt me?”

“Well, Bell left you alone in the woods before.”

Exactly five minutes later, you had your own pack stuffed with supplies for the day, taking Bellamy’s advice and packing a little extra. Clarke and Bell met you by the front gate, both of them greeting you with thin smiles. “You two ready to go?” Clarke glanced between the two of you before heading outside of the camp.

Bellamy was right, you enjoyed seeing the forest. The air was crisper here than in camp. The vibrant green of the foliage, the deep brown of the dirt below your boots, everything was so pretty down here. So natural. No one talked for most of the way. Clarke took the lead and Bellamy brought up the rear.

In the midst of all the green, a bright purple flower was caught out of the corner of your eye. Taking a few steps off the trail you focused on the little flower on the ground, a small smile forming onto your lips. Bell came up behind you, his hand resting against the small of your back. “It’s pretty.” You smiled a little bigger, nodding your head. It became certain to you that Mother Nature would never stop amazing you.

“Guys! Keep up, we’re almost there!” Clarke’s voice called out from in front of you. Her arms hung at her sides as she cast the two of you a look of annoyance.

The smile on your face dropped as you shifted around Bellamy to head back on the trail. Bellamy’s arm slung around your shoulder as he held the flower in front of you. Your hands carefully gripped the dainty stem. “What’s this for?”

He shrugged. “You saw it and thought it was pretty. I like seeing that smile.” Bell smirked and kissed the top of your head before moving you forward.

You were ten years old when your crush for Bellamy first started. At ten, boys were supposed to be gross and have cooties. But you thought he was the cutest boy in the whole entire world, even if he was 14. No matter how many times he said you were annoying or that you were just some snooty little kid, he was always there for you. To him, you were just another little sister.

Anytime Monty couldn’t eat lunch with you, he always sat with you to make sure you weren’t alone. If he was in a really good mood, he’d even walk you back to your house! Some of Bellamy’s friends would tease him about being your friend, but he always put them in their place.

Today was one of those days. Monty promised his mom that he would stay with her and help her on some special plant project. You sat at the table in the far back corner of the cafeteria. There was the loud commotion of other kids running around, all of them talking and playing amongst themselves. The sandwich in front of you no longer seems appetizing.

A loud group of laughter rang out from the other side of the room. Your head peaked up at the noise, noticing Bellamy and his group of friends He made eye contact with you across the room before turning his head to say something to his friends. They all made mocking “ooo” noises as Bellamy headed over towards you.

“Monty staying with his mom today?” Bell asked you as he sat down, taking a bite out his apple before handing it out towards you.

You glanced between your banana and his apple, deciding his apple looked more appetizing, and you handed him your banana. “Yeah, some stupid soil testing and he was all excited to be a part of it.” Your voice was a mumble, scowling at the table in front of you before biting into the crisp apple.

“Well, that’s what I’m here for.” He shrugged at you and leaned his elbows on the table, staring down at you. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Bellamy leaned back slightly and rummaged around in his front pocket. In his hand was a tiny black box. “Here.” You gave him a questioning glance before carefully picking up the container. “Well, open it or give it back.”

Giving him one last scowl, you pried the lid off the little box. Nestled inside was a single flower, six white petals with lots of little black specks around the center. It was cute, Bellamy always had a habit of bringing you different flowers. “What’s this for?”

He let out a small laugh. “I knew it’d make you smile. I like seeing you smile.” 

“Why don’t we split up? There should be a door around here, somewhere.” Clarke glanced between the two of you, waiting for your agreement. “Okay, I’ll go over here, you guys check up on the hill.”

You nodded and headed off behind Bellamy, keeping the flower still tucked in your hand. “Y/N, there’s another reason why I asked you to come along with me…”

He sounded nervous, his fingers fumbling around the handle of his ax. “Well, you see… I do-”

“Y/N! Bellamy! Over here, I think I found the door!” Clarke cut off Bellamy’s confession, making him grumble something to himself, shaking his head.

A small smile twitched onto your lips, grabbing his free hand with yours. “C’mon. We can talk later.”

Bellamy gave you a curt nod and tugged you over towards the door, buried under layers of grass and dirt. Clarke was hunched over the door, trying to pry it open with her bare hands. Bell huffed and shook his head. “Here, look out.” Dropping your hand, he walked over to the door. Lifting the ax above his shoulder, Bellamy struck the metal of the door. The door let out of a groan as the seal gave way under his powerful blows. “Okay, grab the handle and help me.”

The three of you all grabbed onto a handle, pulling with your entire body weight until it finally popped open. There was a collective huff from the group as you all peered down into the shelter. Clarke was the first one to stand up, adventuring down the stairs into the bunker. “You go first, I’ll be right behind you.” Bellamy moved to the side, allowing you to reach the stairs.

You pulled out your flashlight, igniting the stairs with a beam of light. The floorboards creaked under the weight of the two of you. Clarke was holding a lantern, looking around the entire perimeter. A large shelf was along the far wall, holding up a few containers.

Cobwebs stretched and lingered on your hand as you wedged one of the lids open. Inside was a large pile of wool blankets. “Hey, I think all these tubs have blankets in them.”

“Really?” Clarke turned around and moved to stand beside you, sending a warm smile in your direction. “Oh, these will be great at night.” One of her hands reached out, running over the fabric.

A loud thud from the other side of the room caused both of your heads to turn. “Seriously, there’s not even a tent in here! Or a decent medical kit!” Bellamy growled as he slammed the lid shut on one of the containers.

“Bell, it’s fine we haven’t looked through everything yet.” You tilted your head to the side slightly, keeping your distance as he still roughly pushed around some boxes.

He let out a scoff. “Oh please, half of this shit has already been ransacked. This trip was a complete waste!” In a fit of anger, Bellamy kicked one of the big drums over. Oil spilled all over the floor as it fell, followed by a large slam. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

His anger was quickly replaced with glee. “What is it?” You cautiously stepped forward, trying to peer over his shoulder. Bellamy turned his head and smiled back at you, a large grin on his face, gun in hand.

“Ready to be a badass, baby?” 

A large red curtain was hung along the far end of the bunker, a big black X was painted in the center. Bellamy smiled in pride as he strutted back over to you and Clarke, handing each of you a gun. “Okay, so this end goes up against your shoulder… and you look through this little piece right here…” He demonstrated on his own.

You awkwardly held the weapon in your hands, shifting it until the butt rested against the pocket of your shoulder. “Like this?” One of your brows arched as you turned to face Bellamy.

“Uh, a little higher, and… here straighten your back a little bit.” His entire frame surrounded you, showing you how to hold the gun more comfortably. “That better?” You nodded. “Okay, now aim for the X.”

You tried to suppress your scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I got that.”

Bellamy held his hands up in defense. “You’re right, I forgot all your gun training back on the Ark.”

Clarke laughed softly at the encounter, before shaking her head and aiming her own gun. She let out a shallow breath as she slowly pulled the trigger. You all anticipated the loud bang, but all you got was a soft click. “What the hell…” She scowled at her gun before trying to pull the trigger again, receiving a click for the second time.

“There must be some duds…” Bellamy shifted his eyes over to you as he popped some of his rations into his mouth. “Y/N try yours.”

You lined up the shot exactly how Bell told you to. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the X through the site. As you exhaled, your pointer finger gently pulled back the trigger. The bang filled your ears, a recoil slammed into your shoulder. In the matter of less than a second, it was over. A hole was situated to the left of the center of the X.

Your jaw dropped as you lowered your weapon, turning around with a huge smile on your mouth. “That… was amazing… Clarke, you gotta try it.” You laughed as you handed her your gun.

“I’ll be back in a minute, I gotta use the restroom.” Bellamy grabbed a handful of nuts and quickly went outside.

Clarke and you took turns shooting at the red sheet, turning around, you noticed Bellamy was still not back yet. “He’s been gone a little while, don’t you think?” You glanced over at Clarke, worry starting to etch into your features.

“Yeah… I guess we lost track of time. Do you think you should go check on him?” She mumbled between the bites of nuts in her mouth.

Your head nodded, laying down your gun on the shelf. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” Clarke nodded and muttered a ‘be careful’ before you took your flashlight and headed back towards the stairs.

At first, you couldn’t see anything. All that was in front of you was dense forest. No signs of Bellamy anywhere. You shined your flashlight ahead as you stepped further into the night. “Bell? Bell, are you out here?” You were met with silence.

Fear started to settle in the pit of your stomach. The image of finding a dead Bellamy flashed in your mind. “Bellamy!” A small whimper was the only response you got. It came from the left of you, your flashlight exposed a small clearing past a couple of trees.

Cautiously, you followed the sound. The whimpers turned into murmurs, the murmurs turned into ‘kill me’s’. In front of you, Bellamy sat hunched over on his knees. Tears were streaming down his face as his fingers harshly dug through his hair. “Bellamy!” You dropped your flashlight, darting over to him as you skidded in front of him on your knees.

He wasn’t looking at you, he looked straight through you. “Please, just end it. Kill me, please. I deserve it.” Bellamy wept in front of you. Your hands cupped his cheeks, giving him a quick once-over to look for any obvious injuries.

“Bellamy! Bell, look at me.” You squeezed his face slightly, shaking him. “Bell, baby I’m right here. Look at me. I’m real.” You pressed your forehead against him, noses squishing together. His labored breaths fanned across your face, and for the first time, he fully looked at you.

“Y/N?” His voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “You’re here.” It was more of a statement, stating it as a fact to reassure himself.

You smiled at him, eagerly nodding your head. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Bellamy’s hands lifted and rested against your forearms, his thumbs softly tracing against your skin. “Well isn’t this sweet.” A deep foreign voice interrupted the moment shared between the two of you.

Jumping away from each other, you noticed another boy from camp standing over the two of you. “Dax?” You voice wavered as he shifted the barrel of the gun towards you.

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I really don’t so I need you to listen to me when I say move away from him.”

It didn’t matter if there was a gun pointed to your or not. You started shaking your head, but Bellamy’s grip on your arm tightened. “Y/N, just do what he says.” He spoke to you but kept his eyes on the Dax. His hands pushed you away softly. “It’ll be alright, princess.”

Sending another reluctant glance in his direction, you shuffled to your feet and moved away from Bell to stand behind Dax. “Now, stay there and shut up.” He growled at you, shoving the butt of the gun against your side.

“Don’t touch her.” Bellamy rumbled from his position on the ground, an icy stare filled his eyes.

Dax laughed, shifting the gun into on hand as he pointed it at Bellamy, lifting his other hand to run through your hair. You tried to ignore the cringe that was sent down your spine. “Now, now, Bellamy. You’re lucky she’s even still alive right now. Shumway said not to leave any witnesses.”

“Shumway?” Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of the guardsman’s name. “What does he have to do with this?”

Bell sighed, keeping his eyes on the hand that lingered on your shoulder. “He’s the one who gave me the gun to kill Jaha.”

“And now, he sent me here to kill you,” Dax smirked slightly, his head giving a sadistic tilt.

Rage started to burn through your veins. You’d almost lost Bellamy more times than you care to count. You’d be damned if you were going to lose him for real. “Don’t you fucking dare hurt him.” The confidence in your voice shocked you.

“I thought I told you to shut up.” The hand that Dax had on your shoulder was used to shove you to the ground. You landed with a thud on your back, causing all the air to escape your lungs.

Bellamy moved on instinct rather than logic. He bolted up from his knees and charged at Dax. Both guys tumbled to the ground in a mess of fists and swings. The gun flew from Dax’s hands as he tackled Bellamy onto his back, hands forming around his neck.

Your eyes landed on the discarded gun on the ground. “Get off of him!” Dax’s head fit perfectly in the small site on the barrel of the gun.

“You’re not gonna shoot me, sweetheart.” He sneered at you, hands loosening around Bellamy’s neck. Your finger pulled back on the trigger. Every ounce of confidence in your body left when you were met with the click of a blank. Before Dax was able to climb off of Bellamy, he found a spare bullet on the floor. With one quick swing of his arm, the tip was lodged into the side of Dax’s neck. You watched in shock as blood splattered over Bellamy’s face.

Blood poured from Dax’s neck as he tried to stop the bleeding with his hands. The color in his face started to drain as his spine began to go limp. With wide eyes, he collapsed onto his side. The two of you watched as Dax’s last bit of life slipped from his body.

You were snapped back into reality when Bellamy began to move closer towards you. Your feet carried you over to him, wrapping your arms around him, you helped him over to lean against a nearby tree. Slowly, you sat down beside him, turning slightly to your side to face him. Lifting a hand, you wiped some of the blood off of his face. “Are you okay?”

Bellamy’s head rolled to the side slightly to look at you. “I think I should be the one asking you that.” His lips twitched into a small smile. Your hand cupped his cheek before brushing some of his hair out of his eyes.

Settling down beside him, you rested your head on his shoulder. “What were you trying to tell me earlier? Before we found the bunker?”

Above you, he sighed, one of his arms lazily wrapping around your lower back. “I want you to run away with me. Leave camp, just the two of us, live happily ever after.”

You leaned back, staring up at him. “Bell, you can’t leave camp. You can’t leave Octavia, it would crush her.” Your head shook with emphasis.

He simply scoffed. “Y/N, she hates me.”

“She needs you, Bell. I need you. Everyone at camp needs you.”

Bellamy’s eyes closed as he leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree. His arm around you tightened, pulling you tight against his chest. “Can we take on the world tomorrow?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

TAGS: @vxidnik   @notyourcxnderella   @nadiagazecka   @jodiereedus22   @kateboi   @bellamyblakemorley   @toodeeptowake   @desperateand-lonely   @trashpandasunited   @disneychic8   @haydieenzzibug

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[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Walls

I love your fics and was wondering if you’d write a smutty one where Clarke and Lexa are neighbors and have never met but the walls are super thin and they can hear each other through them

Sunday, April 4th; 12:04pm

As soon as her face hit the pillow, the noise started. Or at least that was what it felt like. It wasn’t even the normal noises of the city creeping through her window. Those things, the car horns and mufflers, the traffic and creaking brakes, the general hum of the world where she lived, those things all sang her to sleep most of the time. But this, this low hum, it was new.

“Are you kidding me?” she growled after looking at her clock and seeing that it was lunchtime. It didn’t matter. It was her only day off, and thus she was angry that any kind of sleep was taken from her.

The windows were all bright with the afternoon sun. Her apartment was alive and the breeze was quiet and wafted papers on her desk and the leaves of plants. And a noise vibrated through her walls as she flopped back in bed and shoved a pillow over her ears.

For the past year, her neighbor was a student who didn’t make a peep. How was Clarke to know that there could even be noise. She assumed her brick walls were soundproof, her neighbor was so quiet and unobtrusive. Clearly, she was mistaken.

“Shut up!” she groaned after tossing the pillow off of her face, though it didn’t help at all.

She laid there and stared at the ceiling as her ears honed in on the offending noise. At first it was just nonsensical, a dull hum, some racket, some annoying blurb of sound that intruded upon sleep.

And then the sounds came together, and she found the song in it. It didn’t help at all, but still, at least it wasn’t just pure noise, but rather a melody.

With a growl, Clarke pushed around her messy hair and got out of bed. She grabbed an old shirt from the ground and tugged it on before traipsing barefoot and pantless through her studio. The large door squealed when she tugged it open while the noise grew a little less raucous as she registered the sound of piano.

Still, she was on a mission and she was angry.

The noise didn’t stop when she first started pounding on the door. It took a whole second round of banging to get the attention of her new neighbor, but thankfully, all went quiet again.

“Hello?”

Clarke was proud of her body. She was content in her own skin, never had time to worry so much about what she looked like, though was remarkably happy with how it worked, how it got the job done, how it existed. She was never self-conscious, hence the disdain for pants and a bra, even when confronting a complete stranger.

And then she saw her neighbor.

Three more hours of sleep was all she wanted, and now there was this.

It only took the morning to move in. It wasn’t because she was especially proficient in moving, or that she was very good and labeling or lugging. Instead, it was merely because she owned a truck and two strapping friends and little else in the world.

There was only three duffels of clothes. Two boxes of books. A mattress. Those were the only things she had as she embarked on her own, no longer part of a pair, evicted from her previous abode by a cheating girlfriend and an unbridled rage and hurt.

The piano, on the other hand, that was a task. That and the record collection and the music equipment that once took up an entire basement.

But still, after all of it, regardless of the little amount of things she actually owned to wear, it only took a few hours and two trips to fully move in enough to decide to take a break.

And then came the banging on the door.

When Lexa registered what it was, she tripped over cords and half-unpacked equipment as she tried to get to the door, though that felt like an obstacle course, and when she thrust it open, she was certain nothing would be the same.

“Hello?”

A pantless, wild-haired girl in a tank top with a rainbow on it stared back at her. A very welcoming neighborhood, Lexa thought to herself as she gave this stranger a once over, to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

Nervously, for no reason at all, the musician ran her hand through her hair and pushed up her glasses before leaning against her door. It was a spur of the moment apartment pick, a large open loft where she hoped to freelance, but Lexa patted herself on the back a little more for this perk of naked women who apparently appeared at the door--

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the stranger screeched as she regained her senses.

Immediately Lexa furrowed and took back her previous self-congratulatory pats.

“Hold on, what do you--”

“I work two jobs, and that means I’m up at dawn and sometimes awake until nearly dawn the next day, and I get one day off a week. Do you know what day that is?” she explained, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Um, Sunday?”

“Sunday. I just want to sleep. On Sundays. That’s all.”

“Oh!” Lexa stood a bit straighter. “Could you hear me playing?”

“Yes! And we share a wall where it looks like you’ve parked a piano.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I just moved in and--”

“I don’t care,” the neighbor shook her head. “Can you just… keep it down?”

“Until when?”

“Forever.”

“Well, see, I’m kind of a--” she started to explain.

“Shh. Just. Shh.”

And with that, she nodded and took a step toward her own loft.

“Nice to meet you too,” Lexa called, leaning out of her door, trying her best to not stare at the nearly bare and barely lace covered ass that sauntered to the other end of the hall.

She failed.

“Welcome to the building, 5B,” the blonde taunted before disappearing and closing her door.

For a moment, Lexa stood there, oddly dumbfounded at what had just transpired and what she had just seen. As much as she wanted to go back and play even louder, she couldn’t actually bring herself to do it, not with the sexy angry neighbor.

Instead, she grabbed a coat and explored her new street, hoping to forget both her neighbor and her ex in one fell swoop.

Wednesday, May 20th; 6:29pm

Clarke had a habit of leaving her door open. It was a bad habit she knew, one that her mother would tell her she was going to get murdered, if she found out. But her building was full of people her age with varying level of karmic debts and an almost communal understanding to pretend no one else existed.

That was, until, the newest inhabitant of 5B.

The groceries were still packed up in the paper bags she left on the counter as she caught the sound of music once again, this time louder. Nearly seven, and with friends on the way, Clarke allowed herself just a moment to listen.

A light and airy piece that had to be classical in origin began and floated about like a spring shower through the hall and into her kitchen.

It’d been three or so weeks since the half-naked encountered with the new neighbor, and Clarke kept it that way. That singular encounter was enough to haunt her for many hours to come, though she had succeeded in earning perfectly silent Sundays, while the rest of the week was filled with music of varying kinds and guests coming and going.

Some afternoons, there was a band practice, or different bands, or something of the sort, with different kinds of sounds. Sometimes there were songs Clarke recognized, oozing through speakers. Sometimes, there was just piano. But every day there was sound through the walls, and it livened things up a bit, to be honest.

She saw her, a few times, out on the street in their neighborhood, sunglasses over her eyes, headphones in. She was gorgeous and cool and effortlessly so, which was infuriating and made Clarke’s foggy recollection of her sleep-deprived tirade even more embarrassing.

It didn’t help that she could apparently make noises like the piece that provided the soundtrack to Clarke’s unpacking of her groceries. Someone would could bend notes and sounds like that was someone who knew too much of the world, and still, found joy in sunshine.

Despite herself and her mother’s disapproval, Clarke found herself leaving the door open even more out of habit.

Saturday, May 28th; 3:59am

“Oh God. Right… Mmm-- Yes!”

The noise echoed through the wall, jolting Lexa awake. As she caught her breath, she squinted at her alarm clock and stared at the wall as if she could see through it, though the dark greatly hindered that unrecognized superhuman ability.

“Ohhhh yes.”

Three in the morning, and slightly still asleep, it took a moment for Lexa to figure out what exactly the noises were, and then it clicked, and she hopped out of bed, as far away from the wall as she could, tripping over a laptop cord and slamming against the opposite wall.

All of a sudden, she was awake and she was listening to her hot neighbor having sex.

“Oh God I can’t listen to this,” Lexa muttered, covering her ears.

And then she uncovered and listened to the darkness, hoping it was over. She held her breath and tried to still her heart.

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.”

“Oh no,” Lexa shook her head and moved away from the back of the loft where she assumed her neighbor’s bed must have been.

The entire night was awkward, not just because of the sexy noises, not just because Lexa frequently thought about the ass of the girl who yelled at her a month ago--

“Mmmm ooohh.”

-- but also because for the first time since the initial run in, Lexa saw her neighbor. She’d seen her at times around the neighborhood, walking with friends, rushing off to work, tying her hair up as she walked through the sidewalk, paint covering bare legs or the creases of her knuckles.

No, last night, Lexa actually saw her, actually spoke to her.

It wasn’t much, but as Lexa was coming in, Clarke was going out. And she was dressed. And she nodded and said hello and complimented the way Lexa played, and Lexa only stood there, dumb and with her keys stuck in the lock, attempting to respond.

“Oh God!”

She wanted to listen so badly, and for that she was ashamed.

It was a problem, to see her again, to speak with her because she was downright beautiful and feisty, which was oddly charming. To hear her having… doing… that…. Now, after having thoughts about her lace-clad ass was just…

The small light by the desk was a pick up from a yardsale, and her first furniture pick up. It didn’t cast much light, but it was enough to help her avoid tripping. Somehow, Lexa sat at her piano and started to play to drown out the noise. She played for an hour before she was brave enough to chance hearing those moans.

All was quiet, though her brain kept replaying them laced with her sonata.

Tuesday, June 9th; 1:12am

“Oh yes, fuck, right there!”

It wasn’t a scream, but it certainly wasn’t quiet. Clarke cocked her head as she closed her door and dropped her bag on the floor.

All was quiet, and she told herself she imagined it. Dollars and fives poured out of her pockets as she began to empty in hopes of hopping into bed at a reasonable hour for her. She didn’t even care to count it with the idea of bed and eight hours within her grasp.

“Fuck, Lexa. Oh yes!”

“Oh no.”

Halfway between ironing out a crumpled bill, she froze upon hearing the apparent sexing happening with her neighbor. It’d been a long time since Clarke heard sexy noises. A long time since she participated in it with someone else, but she sure as hell still recognized it.

“God, Lexa…”

From the sounds of it, the two were conflated in whoever was moanings opinion, and Clarke found herself both turned on and jealous, but in no way surprised, somehow, that Lexa was capable of eliciting that kind of reaction.

It was the jealous part of her that made her leave her apartment after a long moan. Something about hearing what was happening was too much, even with the idea of eight hours of sleep lingering and forgotten.

Thursday, June 11th; 10:10pm

“I don’t want to do this again!”

“I came over to talk, to figure out--”

“There’s nothing to figure. You left me. You quit me. I just want my records.”

“And Tuesday?”

“A mistake.”

Clarke tried not to listen, but the shouting continued next door. With a frown, she picked up her paintbrush once again and started on the piece that took up an easel in the corner. It often felt like the time between painting was so long she forgot how to do it, or forgot what she wanted to add. Life pulled her away from finishing anything, no matter how hard she worked, though she fought against it as best she could.

“No, stop. We’re done.”

And now, even when she eked out a moment, she still couldn’t concentrate with the yelling. Every since the new neighbor-- Lexa, she learned-- Clarke felt a little bit more relaxed, or at least enjoyed the soundtrack of music that now filled her life. Every day was something new, every afternoon was a new emotion or feeling or style. It helped with painting.

But a fight was not on her docket of helpful noises for her current painting.

And so she resigned herself to tossing her paints down once again and deciding that perhaps a cleaning was in order, finally. That was what she told herself, though in reality, she listened to the fight to learn anything she could about her new mysteriously hot neighbor.

Don’t worry, she hated herself enough for it. But it didn’t stop her curiosity, and so when the squeal of the door in the hall came, she hurriedly stuck her head out to catch a glimpse at whoever could make the seemingly mild-mannered musician raise her voice.

The girl who trudged down the hall was gorgeous. That shouldn’t have hurt as much or have been such a surprise. Naturally a musician with long fingers and a jaw like that would have a hot ex. That was basic math. But to see her, to see the hypothetical in the real world, that was just plain heartbreaking.

With a sigh, Clarke waited for the slamming of the door down the hall, though nothing came. The quiet reminded her she had to paint, because she sure as hell wasn’t going to start cleaning.

As if on cue, a gentle kind of song, deep in the bass of the piano began as she picked up her brush.

Friday, June 12th; 1:13am

After a fit of intense playing, Lexa always found it necessary to burrow. She was a burrower. She needed to feel small and safe, and in her new place, she hadn’t done it yet. It took Costia’s annoyingly effective attempt at reconciliation to worm its way into her head to cause her to finally commit to burrowing.

That was why she had Blondie playing on her turntable as she sorted through records that had been finally dropped off, with the promise of the rest another day, just in time for another attempt at her willpower.

“Knock knock,” a voice rang out from the front door as she dug in the box and pulled out another handful.

When Lexa looked to the door, half spilled back onto her floor.

“Is the… I can turn the music down,” she offered quickly, afraid of more wrath, though not opposed to more pantlessness.

But perhaps even better, her neighbor, Clarke, which she learned during an awkward elevator ride a few days ago, was fully clothed and smiling. And if she was beautiful when she was angry, she was damn near thought-stopping when she smiled.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m actually getting used to having constant music,” Clarke offered. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, I mean,” Lexa sputtered, picking up the fallen records and trying to have some sense of cool when her apartment was a mess of wires and recording equipment and instruments and mismatched rugs.

It was a lost cause.

“I realized that you hadn’t gotten the proper Welcome Wagon,” she explained after a few steps before holding up a six pack. “And I should probably apologize for that first time. Now that we know each other’s names.”

“The first time wasn’t terrible.”

“I yelled at you and was barely dressed.”

“Yeah, like I said. Not that bad.”

“Well, in the spirit of you getting yelled at again,” she rolled her eyes.

“You heard that?”

“Oh. Um. I mean.”

“I’m sorry. I’m the worst neighbor--”

“Lexa, no, really,” she tried to calm her worries. “You’re not bad. I get beautiful music all the time. While I’m sure all you get to hear is me banging around at night when I come in from work or leave in the morning.”

“Yeah, um,” Lexa gulped and blushed. “You could say that.”

“So, you sound like you had a shitty day. I just so happen to have some beer. The math seems sound. What do you say, neighbor?”

There was no point in even thinking about it, though Lexa pretended to have a choice. She had a beautiful blonde with a cheshire cat smile egging her on with beer and those lips and even if she didn’t know it, those moans. And all of a sudden, the musician was parched.

“Yeah, I could go for a drink.”

Friday, June 12th; 4:01am

“She cheated and she wanted me back. Wants me back,” Lexa amended, deep into her fifth or so mixed drink.

The confession found them colluding on the floor after hours of talking. It wasn’t intimate, but it was cordial, and it was cozy. Just two people on the ground between furniture and instruments, divulging information with the recklessness egged on by alcohol.

“What do you want?”

“I want to go back in time three months and not figure out she didn’t love me.”

The sight was pitiful, but more than that, it was genuinely sad. Clarke looked at the musician who was a tough, tough nut to crack, and finally saw that honest part, that soft and tender-fleshed part, that was buried deep beneath shyness and bravado and eventual self-deprecation.

“Can’t do that.”

“I know,” Lexa sighed and leaned her head back.

Both sat on the floor, sorting through records. They were not very good at it at all, but still, Clarke tried to help until she just started asking questions. She liked finding nerves and parts that people kept tucked away in little boxes under their beds and clavicles.

“How could anyone cheat on you?” Clarke found herself wondering aloud as she looked around the spartan apartment and with all that she’d learned.

“I don’t know. Pretty easily I guess.”

“No, I mean it,” she shook her head and was prepared to fight, spurred on by whiskey. “You mix sound for a record label, which is the coolest. You play instruments on records sometimes. You make music. You’re classically trained and a piano grand champion.”

“I think that’s chess.”

“You’re hot as hell, and you are really nice. How does someone do that?”

“I must not be that nice,” Lexa shrugged.

“I think you’re nice.”

“I think you’re nice, too.”

“I yelled at you the first time we met,” Clarke reminded her, nudging her thigh with her foot.

“Yeah, but you brought me beer when I was yelled at by someone else. Seems a little protective if you ask me.”

“I am,” she shrugged. “I’m protective of my little music elf.”

“That’s all I am?”

“You help me paint. I like hearing what you can do.”

Lexa grinned to herself, or at least that was what she meant it to be. Instead, it was a goofy smile that played all across her face. Clarke stared at it and she wanted to kiss her, but she couldn’t kiss her neighbor.

First, because she lived right beside her. And despite that fact, Clarke didn’t mind that Lexa’s hand was on her knee.

Second, because Lexa had just gotten cheated on, and was a mess of feelings and who knows what other kinds of baggage. And still yet, she didn’t seem too bothered when Lexa met her eyes.

Third, because the musician was kind and soft and stern and stoic and altogether someone that isn’t a one night stand, and though she hadn’t had one in months, that was all Clarke could handle at the point in her life in which she worked two jobs and chased her passion. But she didn’t move when Lexa stared at her lips.

“It’s late,” Clarke jumped slightly when her wits appeared, even for just a flash. “I should get going.”

“Long walk back,” Lexa grinned, nodding to herself as she, too, regained something. “Will you make it okay?”

“I think I might.”

Politely, Lexa helped pull the neighbor up from the floor and remained there, close but not touching.

“Thank you for properly welcoming me,” she smiled.

“Anytime.”

“I’m sorry about the yelling, still.”

“I’m more sorry I yelled,” Clarke promised. “Will you play me something to sleep?”

“Whatever you want. I’ll never stop playing.”

It was goofy and melodramatic, but something about the notion struck a chord with Clarke, which was exactly what she wanted to avoid. The words made her ears burn. It didn’t help that the lanky musician was leaning against the door and her shirt rode up and exposed hip, or that her eyes were whiskey brown and whisky faded.

“You’re a lot more trouble than you let on.”

“I know,” Lexa smiled a bit more.

“Goodnight, 5B.”

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

It didn’t take long for her to crawl into bed once she walked away, though the first step was exhausting. Clarke understood why Buzz Aldrin must have napped for a century after his moonwalk. But she did, and she locked her door behind her, and she stripped off her clothes and flopped into bed in under two minutes, even before a song could start in the room next door.

But when it did, she smiled into her pillow at the lullaby, and promptly fell into the best drunken night’s sleep she could ever remember having.

Saturday, July 1st; 3:28am

“Oh God, Yes!”

Lexa sat up with a start, oblivious to her surroundings and confused that it was dark while she was obviously awake.

And then the moaning.

“Oh no,” she muttered, squinting and swallowing the cottonmouth of sleep.

“Oh yes!��

Five months she’d lived in her apartment, and overall, enjoyed the experience. It didn’t hurt that she had a large space for her equipment and neighbors that didn’t mind the music. It didn’t hurt that the light was amazing through the large factory windows, or that some of the restaurants were actually really good in the neighborhood. It didn’t hurt that her hot neighbor was sometimes friendly, and they became more friendly as summer progressed.

The problem, however, was that said neighbor had loud sex and was Lexa’s crush, which produced a moral grey area in which Lexa found herself torn.

Because it was super hot to hear those noises. But also it felt dirty in a not sexy way. And so she trudged her way to the piano and sat there, taking a deep breath, ready to work out her frustrations in the most un-lascivious manner imaginable.

As her fingers moved along the keys and her ears focused on the noises they produced, she thought long and hard about how much she liked talking to Clarke, and how she should just ask her out. That seemed like a mistake though. They would have to live next to each other if it didn’t work. Or one would move. And the one to leave would be Lexa because she was the last one to move in. And she didn’t want to lug the piano again.

“Please. Yes!”

She played a simple song, one she memorized so long ago, she wasn’t even certain when or where or how, just that it was part of her muscles and made her feel at peace to contain such things.

It was so mechanical, she soon found herself thinking about how she still hadn’t caught anyone leaving her neighbor’s apartment. She hadn’t heard Clarke mention a boyfriend. She hadn’t seen the slightest hint of anyone other than a few friends come over on spotty occasions. But Lexa knew that Clarke worked during the day at a non-profit art program for low-income families. And she knew that at night, she bartended. There left little time for someone to make her moan like that. And what little time the artist seemed to have, it was split between painting and camping out in Lexa’s studio, more and more, it seemed.

Still, she played on as sunrise turned the darkness grey and then blue, and only then, did Lexa stop and listen into the night for the silence that told her she could sleep again.

Tuesday, July 30th; 4:41pm

After the drunken night, Clarke would have called her neighbor a tentative friend. It wasn’t that they hung out often, except that pretty much every day she ran into her, and from time to time, one would knock on the other’s door under the pretense of paying back for the previous time they hung out, and that was that. They got to know each other the way that strangers do, strangers with that hint of I-want-to-know-everything shrouded under because-you-amaze-me and missed with I-want-to-kiss-you. Though neither dug deep enough past the first part.

That was way it was so easy for Clarke to constantly knock on the stranger’s that was not a stranger’s door.

It was not, however, any kind of prep she needed for what she found when it opened.

“Hey, Clarke, hi,” Lexa grinned that stupid grin that made Clarke’s eyes roll back, attached to those lips that she dreamt about deep into the night.

“Oh, hey. Is this a bad time?”

Without any kind of pretense, Clarke looked down at Lexa’s sweaty body. Shorts hung low on her waist, pointing out the rounded edges of hips. A sports bra covered absolutely nothing to the imagination, though that was for the best because in no way would Clarke have guessed that the staunch, button-up wearing sound geek was hiding abs. Or that she was hotter than previously imagined. That was going to be a problem and star in a few fantasies.

More than a few.

“Hey,” a hand waved in front of her face as she gawked. “Earth to Clarke.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Am I interrupting… something?”

“What? No,” Lexa chuckled. “I just got back from a run. I go for long runs a few times a week.”

“Oh, yeah, that. Okay.”

“You knocked on my door?”

“I did?” Clarke asked helplessly.

“Yeah… like a minute ago. This is my apartment,” Lexa gestured behind her.

“Right, right, yeah, I uh,” she made the mistake of looking at her body again before meeting her eyes. “I was making a cake for my best friend’s birthday and--”

“Is this the cup of sugar thing?”

“Flour. And three cups.”

“You started baking a cake without any flour?”

“I’m not a baker.”

“That’s evident,” Lexa teased before nudging her head for her neighbor to follow. “I think I have some actually. But you might have to go begging to a few other doors.”

“It can be a small cake.”

Gently, Clarke leaned against the desk with some equipment while she watched Lexa move toward the small kitchen section. She tried not to watch the muscles of her back as she stretched taller and dug through the cabinet. But that was, naturally, impossible.

“So, I’m having a party,” Clarke began, attempting to not watch the body moving around. “You--”

“Hey, Lex, where are your clean clothes?”

The door to the bathroom opened, and Clarke’s jaw dropped. All twenty-six feet of glorious legs were on display beneath the short towel that led up to shower-wet shoulders and cheekbones that could probably murder someone. She was, by far, what Clarke would have guessed the old poets all sang about when they described nymphs or sirens.

“One second,” the musician grunted.

“Sorry, I’ll just…” the stranger smiled politely, and awkwardly scooted toward the bedroom.

“You were saying?” Lexa tried, handing over a bag of flour. “About a party?”

“Um, yeah. If you hear noise. You know,” she took the bag and nodded, not looking up at the girl or the other girl. “Feel free to stop by or tell me to keep it down.”

“No worries. I’m actually going to be out tonight. Probably stay with Anya. So feel free to party hard.”

“Awesome, yeah, thanks.”

“See you later.”

“Yup. Yeah, bye,” Clarke offered dumbly as the door closed behind her.

It wasn’t far, but the walk back to her place was long and distracted.

Sunday, August 18th; 11:29pm

*Bang*

Lexa dug the tips of her fingertips into her eyes as she pushed back from her desk and the multiple computer screens. Her ears ached from the headphones, and she finally took them off before another noise erupted from next door.

*Bang*

Normally, Clarke was fairly quiet. Normally, she was barely home. Lately, she rarely said much, and Lexa missed her, weirdly enough.

*Bang*

There was ane entire song that she had to work on, a whole couple more hours of work that needed to be done, but her eyes were tired and her head was in need of a Clarke-shaped break. So despite the business at hand, Lexa pushed herself away from her work and made her way toward her neighbor’s door.

It was a surprise to Lexa when her sister said she must be in love with the neighbor. Costia was still fresh in her head, though she was on her way out, and the idea of anyone else was baffling. Anya was referring to the look she said Lexa had given the blonde as she left after borrowing flour. Or at least, she said there was a look.

That thought burrowed deep in Lexa’s brain.

*Bang*

The door was open, as it always seemed to be, and Lexa pressed forward, pushing her head inside to see what the noise could have been. She was grateful that her sister wasn’t there to see the look she must have had.

Paint covered streaks across the old overalls that hung low on the painter. Hair up in a messy bun, it failed to stay completely contained, and little streaks of color showed the attempts to tuck loose parts near neck and ear.

She must have had a look. She could feel herself having a look.

“Welcome party,” she tried with a knock.

For the briefest of seconds, the painter looked over her shoulder and smiled before returning to the large canvas that took up much of the wall.

“That excuse doesn’t really work that much anymore.”

“I kind of like it,” Lexa shrugged, making her way across the apartment to the fridge where she snagged a beer for herself and Clarke.

“Was I making too much noise?”

*Bang*

“No, I just needed a break from mixing.”

“That band hired you?”

The paint splattered, making a mess on the painter, on the canvas, in a beautiful kind of chaos that Lexa was honestly intrigued to understand, though she couldn’t.

“Yeah, the one my sister took me to see.”

“Sister?”

“Yeah, that girl. You’ve seen her a few times,” Lexa explained, tossing the cap into the trash. “The tall one with my mother’s cheekbones and my father’s knack for getting into trouble. I think you met her when she was wearing a towel.”

“Oh!” Clarke furrowed and cocked her head, turning back to her friend. “Your sister?”

“You were a bit jealous, weren’t you?”

“No. Not at all. Why would I be?”

“My sister is convinced that you’re madly in love with me,” she bluffed and handed over the bottle.

“After meeting me for two minutes?” Clarke teased, finally putting down her paintbrush and giving the poor canvas a break from being beaten raw.

“She calls it a gift.”

Without meaning to, Lexa found herself standing close, sipping her drink as a distraction. She avoided Clarke’s look though and instead looked at the newest piece of art forming so close to her.

“Good to know.”

“Mmm.”

Greedily, Lexa watched the girl in front of her take a long drink of her bottle, she watched her wipe some dark green across her forehead, leaving a shooting star above her eyebrow.

“What?” Clarke furrowed.

“You have paint,” she pointed with her chin, leading only to more being put on the artist’s face, making her chuckle a bit more. “No, now you’re just making it worse.”

“Oh, it’s funny, Ms. I-sit-at-a-piano-and-don’t-get-messy-for-my-art.”

“It’s actually Mrs,” Lexa explained. “My husband is a writer.”

“Very funny,” she rolled her eyes as sat down her drink on a pile of old books that were just as paint-spattered as the tarp on the floor. “I think we can change it a bit though.”

“Oh?”

“How many drinks until you take your shirt off?”

There was a glint in her eyes that Lexa didn’t miss. So she took another sip.

Monday, August 29th; 2:21am

“I don’t think--”

“Shh.”

“It’s cold.”

“Shh,” Clarke insisted once again, surveying the canvas below her. “You mock my methods and you say you have work to get done, but for now, you’re my art.”

“Do you do this to all your neighbors?”

The brush moved along stomach, weaving together splotches of color that was supposed to be a slice of the sky at all times, in all places. It was drunk and optimistic and perfect for a splash of motivation.

“Only the ones who play me songs all night.”

There was a glimmer of a smile as Lexa closed her eyes and stretched her hands out to the side. Clarke watched it happen, still surprised she got to paint on Lexa’s body. Still surprised she hadn’t been discovered to take her time and use the smallest brush she had.

“Lexa, what do you want from life?” she whispered as she leaned close to ribs, stretched out on the floor perpendicular to her canvas.

“That’s a big question.”

“All questions are big questions.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone who talks like you.”

“Swears at you one second and then waxes poetic the next?” she snorted as she reached for a new color.

“Yeah.”

Petals began to form as a forest and garden bloomed to life on one side. Flowers with all manner of color and height started to weave up the trellis of bone and muscle.

“This,” Lexa decided after a big breath.

“This what?”

“This is what I want from life,” she turned her head and snuck a look at her side before watching the artist. “I want to contain galaxies and flowers. I want… I want to fill up the world with pretty songs and I want to be happy and brave and take the chances my parents never did.”

“That was a better answer than I expected.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Clarke sighed, sitting up slightly as she moved around before straddling Lexa’s hips. “You’re complex.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re right. I’m projecting.”

“What do you want from life?” Lexa asked, feeling oddly different under the artist’s eyes.

“Take off your bra.”

“What?” she balked.

Clarke felt her face relax from concentrating as she sipped her next drink and tucked the paint brush behind her ear. Sitting atop her work, she put her hands on her hips and waited.

“I want to paint you. Don’t worry, I’ve done a nude modeling class before.”

“Oh, yeah, because that was what worried me.”

“You asked what I want from life,” Clarke reminded her. “This is it. To disappear from real life, and to spend as much time as possible creating.”

“So I have to take off my bra?”

“Why not?”

It shouldn’t have been such an effective argument, but it was, and Clarke was surprised when Lexa moved, arching her back to unsnap it and toss it to the side. She did her best to remain professional, which she honestly thought she could do with a topless girl underneath her. And booze. That was not helping.

But she didn’t speak, and she met Lexa’s eyes after surveying her exposed chest and the newest part of her canvas. Regret. That was pure regret because now she sure as hell was going to think about those moans.

“I told you my petty love problems, but you’ve never told me about your love life,” Lexa dispelled the awkwardness by bringing in another awkward thing as Clarke leaned forward and began to paint.

“Not much to tell.”

“Really?” she flinched as cold paint moved along her sternum.

“I date a guy last year, didn’t work. Since then I’ve just been… not really interested, if that makes sense. I don’t have an urgency to date. I like my life right now.”

“Oh, yeah, no that makes sense.”

“I’m not opposed, but I did wrong people already,” Clarke shrugged, beginning a chrysanthemum near Lexa’s nipple. “I know it might sound silly, but I want good. I want the real deal. And I’ll know it.”

“How do you know?”

“Have you ever kissed someone and just known that all of the entire world had done that, just for you?”

“Honestly?” she thought about it. “No.”

“Well, I guess it’ll be a surprise for both of us.”

Naked and cold but oddly burning alive from the inside-out, Lexa laid on the floor of an artist’s loft and allowed her to paint whatever she wanted on her body. She thought about love and life and she thought about lips and moans.

“I’m glad you moved in,” Clarke finally decided.

Lexa couldn’t help it. Her hands landed on hips and held the artist there.

“Me too.”

Sunday, September 22nd; 3:12am

“Oh fuck.”

The moan was low and quiet, but it still woke up the musician. She pulled a pillow over her face and tried to go back to sleep. But once again, that was pointless.

“Mmm, Lexa, please.” 

Ever since the naked painting, things had been heavy with her neighbor. Heavy and layered with meaning. Flirty. And it didn’t help that Lexa saw Clarke on the roof in a bikini. And it didn’t help that she watched her do yoga one afternoon. And it didn’t help that she was stuck with a kind of writer’s block and too busy with work to fix it.

It certainly didn’t help that Clarke liked to tease her, always saying she was thankful they had an understanding about being friends. Thank goodness they didn’t have to worry about awkward sexual tension as neighbors, she’d said. Lexa had smiled weakly and nodded.

“Oh, fuck me, please.”

“If only,” Lexa groaned and shook her head before shoving off her sheets and bumping her way toward her lamp.

It changed, from time to time. Different songs at different times of night, but still, it was something that required a lot of thought. That was how Lexa disappeared from reality and the fact that she couldn’t very well date her neighbor. Despite the large crush and insistence of her sister. She was still heartbroken about Costia, right? Right, she thought as she started to play. Right.

Why did she somehow manage to get the neighbor who was sexy and apparently enjoyed orgasms in the middle of the night?

That thought bothered her for two whole minutes before a different sound interrupted her music.

“Clarke?” Lexa asked, squinting out at the brightness in the hallway.

Much like the first time they met, All she was wearing was an old baseball shirt, underwear nowhere to be seen though certainly hidden just beneath the hem. Hair still a mess, eyes still on fire, there was a different look in them now.

“Why do you play in the middle of the night sometimes?”

“Um, well. Because to. You. Um,” she blushed and scratched her neck awkwardly, suddenly very aware that she was just wearing short and a sports bra. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Come on. Out with it.”

Expectantly, she waited, arms crossing over her chest.

“To cover up noises coming from your apartment.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. Uh. Private noises. Noises of an intimate origin. And I didn’t want to…”

“I’m not understan-- OH!”

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded and shifted on her feet. “I didn’t want to be weird. But you’re definitely not quiet.”

“Oh God.”

“Yeah, that’s something I hear a lot.”

“Well, I’m mortified.”

“Same.”

“Perfect.”

Both stood there and thought about it and tried not to think about it, but there was no way that either were successful in this endeavor. No way at all.

“You… you said my name?”

“Yeah, duh.”

“Duh?”

“Maybe next time you’ll take a hint.”

Stupefied wasn’t the proper word. Dumbfounded was closer. Just plain marveled, even. Clarke was already gone before Lexa realized it.

She pushed the door shut and remained standing there, waiting for… something.

Sunday, September 22nd; 3:57am

Not two minutes after closing her door and catching her breath, Clarke lost it again. The knock at her door made her heart jump into her throat. The person standing on the other side made her stomach drop.

“I can’t wait,” Lexa shook her head.

Determination sat on her brow, evident even in the shadows and the dark of the room. It was pure force of will that Clarke managed to stay standing through it, as Lexa took the step forward and kissed her.

Every moment led to it. Every second since the first time she knocked on the door. It wasn’t simple or even easy. It was as impossible as the planets forming. But the degree of difficulty didn’t matter.

Not when hands lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around Lexa’s waist without breaking the kiss. The kiss. The kiss that she never knew could even exist. That was the kiss.

Somehow she hit the bed. Clarke wasn’t certain how, only that she thought she was holding onto Lexa’s shoulders as she felt her tongue, and then she didn’t.

And then she did. Hands pinned beside her head, she felt Lexa’s body press against her own, pinning her to the bed.

“I want to hear you,” Lexa whispered between kissing and sucking on neck. “Not through a wall.”

“Oh fuck.”

Sunday, September 22; 12:08pm

There was a soreness in her body that confused her for just a moment, until the memories of the night before returned, full-force. Bruises on her neck and chest ached as she stretched in bed. Her thighs felt like she’d gone on a long run. Her forearm ached deliciously.

The walls were similar, but it definitely wasn’t her bed, Lexa realized, once again, as she opened her eyes.

She’d done that. She… did… that…

It wasn’t a dream.

“Stop wiggling,” the girl beside her in bed complained. “Sundays are for sleeping.”

An arm slid around her stomach. A head slid onto her shoulder, burrowing deep against her neck. Skin was warm against her own under the sheets, and though it was autumn already, the windows were open, allowing the smells of an already awake city to taunt them and urge them to give up on sleep.

“Welcome wagon indeed.”

“Do you think the neighbors heard?”

“Maybe. If the floor and ceiling are as thin as the walls.”

“I don’t even care,” Clarke yawned. “Will you still be around later?”

“Nah. I got what I came for. I can move now,” Lexa grinned, closing her eyes once more, sleep sounding very good on the lazy Sunday.

For the moment, they didn’t have to think about the future. They didn’t care. They had the night and they had however long.

“Hopefully the next neighbor won’t take as long.”

“You gave me mixed messages,” she complained with a groan as a leg draped over her own and got more comfortable.

“Yeah, I do that.”

“Shh,” Lexa decided, ignoring all manner of worry. “Sundays are for sleeping.”

[thebargainingchip]

Blood Colors: Chapter 1

Masterlist

Pairing: Roan x Reader

Warnings: None for this chapter

Somehow deep inside you knew you'd find yourself here in this position and when you acknowledged the fact things just got worse from there. How could you have been so stupid? Why did you trust so easily when you knew what people were capable of? And what made you think that the next person would be any better?

The icy landscape around you gave way to lots of these thoughts, out here the only sound was the wind blowing. You and Roan hadn't really talked much on the journey here, mostly because the wind swept away any sound. Your journey to the capital of Azgeda from the would take 4 days from the Azgedan border, and you were now only on the second day. Roan led the two of you over to the rocky mountains nearby and found the cave entrance, you assumed he was searching for, you would ret here tonight, not far from the nearby forest.

You both set to work on the cave entrance, packing a snow wall with a small opening to shield you from the icy winds. You and Roan and a few of his other guards had journeyed from Polis where the journey had first started. Those 3 days consisted entirely of horseback riding that had left you sore in places you didn't know where possible, in fact, you were still feeling the effects that the leathery spine left in your pelvic region. You hadn't checked but you had felt the bruises that had formed. The guards however which included Echo, or as you called her the Ice Bitch™, had broken off from the group to scout ahead because they couldn't afford to run into the Splita, not with the King in their midst. The Ice Bitch™ had been reluctant to leave the two of you behind because she didn't trust you but you assured her that you wouldn't be able to kill Roan, he was too strong, you'd only be able to seriously maim before you yourself would succumb to your injuries. She hadn't been happy with your smart quip but she had left reluctantly on Roan's orders to lead the guards. Needless to say, Echo didn't like you and you would've liked Echo if it wasn't for the fact that she had tried to hurt Clarke on multiple occasions.

Azgeda was a strange place, the borders were cold sure but as you went in further you ran into more and more snow. You were already getting sick of it.

Finally, within the enclosed space you heard Roan's voice which you almost mistook for a figment of your imagination. "You can start the fire so long, I'll go find us some dinner." You nodded and went out to gather sticks from the nearby forest using the small axe that Roan had kindly brought on the journey to gather enough for the night. Then crawling back into your makeshift hideout you got out your flint and a knife and worked at the fire. You vaguely remember the survival classes on the Ark but you never thought you'd actually have any use of it in real life. You laughed to yourself, hearing it ring through the cage and stopping immediately at the sound.

Luckily by the time Roan got back, you had managed to get the fire going which meant he couldn't embarrass you by swiping his knife once over the flint and having a flame spark to life. You guessed it was with his banishment that he had learnt to do it all. The dear he had shot thudded heavily against the ground, he had already taken the time to clean out most of the organs and leave them buried in the snow as to not attack wolves or bears or generally anything with teeth. Pulling off your gloves, you flinched when you had to pick up the ice cold knife again, settling awkwardly next to roan to help him cut the skin away. The number of layers you had to put on had minimalised any and all movements that your joints could perform. You were sure you looked like a waddling penguin when you walked. Roan, however, wasn't wearing as many layers as you were, he was apparently accustomed to the weather, only using a heavy jacket and a long sleeved shirt.

"How are you holding up?" You were too tired to take offence to his question and maybe that should have been your answer too. It wasn't a joke you had realized, but after waging through thick snow for at least one day you were dead and you wished you were knowing that nothing would calm the ache in your muscles but time and rest, neither of which you would have. Sure there were those special boots you wore that spread your weight more evenly so you don't try and struggle through the knee-deep snow but it was still much more of an effort.

"Easy peasy lemon squeezy." You said.  

"Lemon sq-what?" You seemed to catch him off guard a little as for the first time you noticed his dumbfounded look.

"It means it's okay." The scepticism is clear on Roan's face but you aren't about to tell him that you only said that so you could say the phrase. Besides what did it matter, you just wanted to reach the capital before you died out here in the cold. When you two had finally cut up the best parts of dear and built a small roasting fire, you settled back next to the fire warming your cold hands in the heat.

"Tomorrow we will face our most treacherous pas, it's about an hour climb up to the top."

"Climbing?" You deadpanned. "Ice or rock?"

"Mostly ice."

"Great." You mumbled.

"At least we won't need to set lines, with our scouting party ahead, it'll be ready."

"And I'm guessing there is no other way or...?" You trailed off hopefully.

"Oh there is but the other way will put an extra four days to our journey or we could walk through the pass but we'd most likely get raped and killed after twenty minutes ."

"We?"

"Splita don't always discriminate. Besides we didn't bring the ice picks for nothing." You looked over at where you had laid your weapons, which you thought the only use for those would be on your journey.

"Right."

"Before we reach Redak, the capital city, you need to know that Azgeda aren't like the other grounders, they will uses and reason to challenger you, they will try and kill you."

"You mean like the challenge between you and Lexa?"

"Yes, but in Redak, it's not as rare as it is in Polis. An uneventful day is one without someone dying in a fight."

"What if I refuse?" You questioned with a shrug.

"You will only look weak. I can only protect you so far, if you are faced with a formal challenge then I cannot help you. Except I can teach you." Roan said his icy blue eyes settling on the food to make sure it's not yet burning. You stayed silent as he continued, "You are good with hand to hand combat, but you're still unfamiliar with a sword and a spear and an axe-"

"We could go on all day about the weapons I am not an expert in." You interrupted.

"We'll need to train every day, we'll start with hand to hand when we reach the city," Roan said you could see it, he was treating you like he would Clarke. You guess that meant he didn't consider you totally a lost cause.

"You just said I was good." You pointed out.

"That's the problem." He handed you your portion of the meal and you promptly dug in, almost unbearably hungry by this point Once you had finished, your stomach full, you rinsed your hands with the water from your water skin and shed your jacket, laying it out on the ground and lying down on it.

"We leave before sunrise tomorrow," Roan said as a sort of good night, sleep tight don't let the bedbugs bite before he himself settled down on the ground and turned his back to the fire and you.

You woke to your name being yelled loudly and you sat up with a jerk head swinging in the direction of the voice. At first, you didn't hear the growling and then it became apparent. A deep rumbling sound filled the cave and you were on your feet immediately then darted for your sword, the weight still odd in your hands. You managed to catch the stick Roan through at you and pushed it into the fire letting the head, which was wrapped in a cloth, catch fire. The kerosene smell filled the room as the growls increased. Roan was watching the entrance with an intensity that had you quickly focusing on the same place. It's fine you just had to be bigger than them, they hated fire. There was sniffing at the man-sized whole and then another growl that reverberated through your chest, it was so close. The snout almost looked bigger than the wolves you had spotted before but you didn't get a chance to access it as the snout disappeared. It went silent, you held your breath for a moment listening but could only hear the wind. It was almost past twenty seconds when you finally breathed a sigh of relief but Roan didn't. You were about to say something, readying your voice to whisper and then-

The wolf, the first one of a whole pack, rushed through the entrance tumbling through the snow that had slightly melted to form an icy hard wall like it was nothing.Which it probably was for it. You stumbled back as you noticed the sheer size, tripping over your own jacket on the floor. the wolf's head just about being at level with Roan's chest, maybe even your neck.

"Get up!" Roan yelled at you but you were frozen, did he not see the huge fucking wolf. The deep-throated growl almost had you pissing yourself as the wolf lunged. Fuck.

#roan #roan of azgeda #roan x reader #the 100