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Clarke shook her head slightly, making some of her hair fall to the side of her face, so Lexa wouldn't be able to see her as her eyes watched Lexa's hands. She hadn't had many opportunities to see the Commander without long sleeves or armor, so she was secretly savoring this while she had the chance. She would be lying if she said she wasn't distracted by Lexa, even though she was only watching her hands idly working in her lap. |
Lexa felt Clarke's gaze on her from the moment Clarke turned away and tried to appear busy. It probably was not the best of ideas to be whittling with a very sharp knife without looking at said knife, but Lexa did it anyway. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at Clarke, an idea crossing her mind. Her eyebrows lifted, and a small, lopsided smile graced her lips. Lexa carefully set down the knife and tree beside her. She set her right hand down on the ground in front of her, slowly pushing herself towards Clarke. Wrapping an arm around Clarke's shoulder, her smile grew, and her eyebrows quirked. |
At Lexa's unexpected presence, Clarke began blushing furiously. When she felt Lexa's hand burning through the fabric on her shoulder, thumb carefully brushing over the skin on the base of her neck, her heart started racing. Clarke's head tilted down away from Lexa's, she managed to stammer out, "What d-do you w-want now?" |
Lexa's grin only intensified, her right hand coming up to cup the side of Clarke's face and draw their gazes together. Her thumb traced Clarke's lips lightly, eyes playful, noses nearly close enough to brush. |
Clarke averted her gaze, attempting to salvage the situation. "W-we need to f-f-finish the mod- Lexa!" |
Lexa's hands had relocated, one to the small of her back and the other to her shoulder, pushing her to the ground. Lexa followed her immediately, sealing their lips together softly, resting half on top of Clarke. She felt Clarke's hand reach up to grip her bicep, the other resting limply on the floor. She saw Clarke close her eyes and heard her exhale into the kiss. |
Abruptly, Lexa pulled away and pushed herself up onto her arms. "Now, we can finish the model." |
Clarke's left hand twisted around her shoulder, the other twining in Lexa's thick, unbraided hair. "I think I would rather do this…" she responded, pulling Lexa back down to her. |
Needless to say, the model was going to be far from their minds for at least another hour. |
Genre: tv |
100 |
My weakness is you, my love |
Chapter 1: My weakness is you, my love |
Clarke gasped awake and threw her blankets off. Her dream had been vivid and covered in red. She glanced down at her hands, swearing there had been blood on them a second ago. But no, it was only a dream. It had to be. |
She had watched as her co-leader bled out, begging her to help him. They had all been there - the kids they had saved from Mount Weather and the ones they couldn't - all shouting at her to do something. She had tried to stop the bleeding; she had tried to make her hands do what her mind told them to, but instead, they buried themselves in his chest, into the wound, to grasp his heart. |
She had heard his screams as he begged her to stop, but her hands would not follow her orders. A laugh erupted from her mouth as she leaned down and whispered, "Love is weakness," before crushing his heart in her hands. She had felt his heart burst beneath her fingers and saw the light fade from his eyes as everyone around them cried and called her a murderer. |
She had seen what it had done to him when she said those words to him, when she told him it was worth the risk. She could tell how it hurt him. She had seen the light go out of his eyes before he put on a brave face and took the map. She had sent him to that mountain, and she needed to know she hadn't killed him. |
Clarke stumbled out of her tent and raced over to her co-leader's quarters, too freaked out to think about any guests he might have. She called out his name in a desperate plea and tore through the tent opening, dropping down beside him. He rolled over in his bed and grunted out a confused "Clarke? What are you -" |
Clarke pushed his blankets aside and pressed her hands to his bare chest, letting out a frantic puff of air. Bellamy looked confused as hell by her actions, but stayed still as her sleep-clumsy hands flitted around him in search of some sort of injury. |
"You're okay?" She looked at him with wide eyes, and Bellamy could see fear in them. "Yeah, Clarke, I'm okay. What's wrong?" He sat up in his bed, tossing off his blankets and grasping her shoulders. |
"I - I had a nightmare, and I just wanted to make sure it wasn't real." She seemed to be calming down now, and Bellamy rubbed her arms, trying to stop her shaking. "What happened in it? What got you so worried?" |
Her face crumpled, and she squeezed her eyes shut as her cheeks were stained with tears. "I sent you to that mountain, Bellamy, and I'm - I'm so sorry." She shuddered with her sobs, and Bellamy wrapped her up in his arms, pressing her face to his chest and tucking it under his chin. |
Her cries were agonizing, and Bellamy's eyes loosened a few tears at hearing her in such distress. He rubbed her back and whispered to her as she gripped him. "Shh, Clarke, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. It had to be done; we saved them. Everything's alright now." |
He knew she felt guilty for sending him in there, and he had been hurt by what she had said. When she had told him it was worth the risk, he felt his breath leave him, and he had worked to get it back. It was even worse as she said it with a blank expression, as if she hadn't just told him that he meant nothing to her. But as soon as he had heard her voice over the radio, he had forgiven her. He had wished he could have seen her face when she told him she knew he could do it, so that he could have seen how she cared. But he had heard it in her voice, and it kept him going. |
After a good ten minutes, she seemed to be calming down, and he was just about to release her from his grip when he heard her mumble something. "What?" Clarke pulled back from his arms and ran a finger near his collarbone, over a scar that lay there. "That's a new one." "Clarke -" |
"That's a new one, Bellamy. Where did it come from?" He looked at her pleadingly, not wanting to tell her what she already knew. He didn't want to tell her it was from Mount Weather because he knew she would only blame herself again. She managed to find two other new scars around his torso from one of his scuffles with some guards. She was furious, but her voice shook as she repeated her question. "Where did they come from, Bellamy?" He only looked down at his hands, and she sighed, knowing anyway. "Then those are my fault too." |
Bellamy shook his head, looking at her and taking her hands in his. "I chose to go there, Clarke. You may have told me to go, but I chose to listen, and these scars are from the mountain men, not you." He scooted closer and placed a hand on her cheek. "I would walk into hell for you, princess, and then I would fight every damn demon in there just to get back to you." |
She looked shocked at his confession and squeezed his hand that still held hers. Neither of them said the three words they had been holding back for so long, but they both felt it, and that was enough for now. Clarke pressed forward to kiss his lips softly, tasting her tears on her tongue as he kissed her back. It was short and sweet, and she pulled back only to lay in his arms as he rested back in his bed. |
They settled themselves in the animal furs and held each other, finally feeling okay since they came back from the mountain. "Thank you, Bellamy." "No problem, Princess." |
Genre: tv |
100 |
Off with his head |
Chapter 1: Off with his head |
"That's it for today, guys, until Friday. And don't forget the name of the remarkable cabinetmaker that built King Arthur's round table," Professor Jaha said, looking up from his notes. Clarke looked up from her notebook just in time to watch her professor proudly survey his class. He took a moment before dropping the punchline. "Sir Cumference." As usual, only one genuine laugh was heard amidst the forced chuckles of those who desperately wanted to please the teacher. However, everyone in World History 304 knew that Bellamy Blake was the only one who actually found the teacher's corny jokes hilarious. Professor Jaha smiled, pleased with his favorite pupil, and dismissed the class while Clarke rolled her eyes back down to her notebook. |
Clarke Griffin wasn't one for history. Art history, on the other hand, was a different story. The girl could chronologically mention all of Bernini's inappropriately badass sculptures, and one shouldn't even try to test her on cubism - Clarke knew her Picasso. But when it came to world history, the blonde constantly considered the possibility of jumping out of the window, especially at the end of every single freaking class when Professor Jaha pretended to be about to drop a very important piece of information that just ended up being an even cornier joke than the one from the previous class. |
Every single freaking class, that Blake kid just lost it. "You heard Blake's laughter today? It sounded like a turkey being slapped," Clarke muttered to Raven as they walked to their dorm. History never failed to put her in a bad mood. |
"Yeah, but you totally think he's hot, though," Raven said, trying to provoke a reaction. |
Glaring at her roommate only made her laugh harder. "What did Jaha mean with Henry VIII being the real songwriter of Blank Space?" Raven asked, still chuckling. |
World History was not important for Raven's Aerospace Engineering major, but Clarke had begged her not to let her go through Jaha's class alone again. The only conditions Raven gave were to get free burgers at Grounders - the diner Clarke worked at - and to have the blonde explain the lame jokes she didn't get. |
"You know the lyrics, right? Got a long list of ex-lovers, they'll tell you I'm insane. Henry VIII had like six wives or something, and beheaded three of them," Clarke explained. Raven nodded at Clarke's explanation, but both girls were intercepted by a tall, freckled figure. Clarke totally did not think about removing that shit-eating smirk with her own lips, no sir. |
"Two, actually," Bellamy corrected her. "An easy way to remember the fates of Henry's consorts is to repeat to yourself: divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived." |
"Wow, thank you for that completely useless piece of information we didn't ask for, Blake," Clarke said, unimpressed. |
"No problem, princess," Bellamy replied with a smirk. |
"You totally think he's hot, though," Raven reminded the blonde when Bellamy had walked away. The future astronaut got no free burger that day. |
"That's it for today, guys, see you on Friday. And remember, the last Sai Cha Ball took place in 1977," Professor Jaha said, attempting to end the class with another joke. This time, Bellamy's laughter was surrounded by stupefied expressions, not even the teacher's pets trying to fake a laugh. For the first time in the semester, when Raven asked, the blonde had no explanation for the joke. |
Later that day, when Bellamy was waiting for Octavia to finish her shift at Grounders so he could drive her home, Clarke finally lost it and walked up to him. "Look, Blake, we all think you and Jaha are a bit crazy because, honestly, no one sane could find historical puns that funny. But could you please, please explain today's joke to me? Because it's killing me." |
To her surprise, Bellamy Blake blushed, giving her a sheepish chuckle. "It's kind of geeky, actually." Well, no shit, Sherlock, Clarke thought, arching an eyebrow to invite him to continue. |
"In Star Wars, Sai Cha is one of The Marks of Contact, a lightsaber technique in which you behead your opponent. And a fun fact is that the last guillotined person in France, Hamida Djandoubi, was guillotined in 1977, the very same year the first Star Wars movie came out. So Jaha made a reference to the Victim Balls, which were special dances where only people who had lost a family member to the guillotine were invited. Supposedly, revelers wore red ribbons around their necks to imitate the slice of the guillotine blade, and performed a dance that involved a sudden nod of the head to simulate being decapitated. These dances were supposed to be so fun that people actually lied about their relatives being guillotined so they could attend. Sadly, there is not enough evidence that these dances were true..." Clarke blinked, making Bellamy realize that he was rambling, something he constantly did when his passion was brought up. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, Victim Balls? Sai Cha Balls? It was a good joke." |
"I still don't get why it's funny," Clarke said, her lips a flat line. |
"Do you find anything funny at all, princess?" Bellamy asked, exasperated, but recovered his smirk after Clarke scoffed. "Well, one day I will make you laugh, and then you'll have to go out with me." |
"Dream on, Blake," Clarke replied. |
Days later, when Clarke opened a text sent by Bellamy during class and cracked up laughing, she had to go out with him. But come on, that was funny. |
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