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February Repost Theme


So, back in December, I decided to go through my stories and revise the old ones to be closer to my current standard of polished because, frankly, my grammar and punctuation sucked when I first started writing.

To keep things organized and interesting, I picked the theme of winter for December–focusing on stories that took place in winter, were about winter holidays or about the cold. Can’t say I succeeded in getting to all of the stories I had planned, but I tried.

I didn’t get to a new theme in January as I was still trying to finish the winter stories (which I backdated to December for some reason), but I’ve decided to move on in February.

Anyway, this month’s theme is, of course, LOVE.

Since I’m mainly a shipper, most of my stories are romance related. I think I counted up 70-plus stories that I could work on (most already posted, some that need editing and/or finishing). Those were just the stories that I hadn’t placed in other categories.

There’s no way I can get through all of those, but we’ll see how it goes. Get ready for a lovefest!

Handy list of LOVE stories posted this month:

[REPOST] The 100 fic: Wash Away the Pain

This story is being reposted from 2017 as part of this endeavor. Since it was written in the last few years, it didn’t need any extra editing (yay!), but it fits with my theme for February, so I’m reposting it. Enjoy.


Clarke has too much blood on her hands, but Bellamy is there to help wash it away.
1,280 words | [PG-13]

Clarke staggers through the trees towards the rush of water she hears in the distance. Her right hand presses against a growing pain in her side. Her left hangs limply, knife dangling from her fingertips. The noise of the river drowns out the echoing screams of death in her head.

She falls to her knees on the bank, retching until the bile erases the bitter taste of copper that stings the back of her throat.

So much blood.

It’s everywhere—staining her clothes, caking her hair, dripping from her eyelashes. She stares at her hands—sticky with red—until they blur behind a curtain of tears. She thrusts her hands into the freezing water, scrubbing her skin raw, but the red isn’t going away.
Her chest seizes up as another sob wracks her.

It’s not my blood.


She’s not sure if she’s relieved or terrified that it’s Bellamy that followed her. She goes back to scrubbing the blood from her hands. Bellamy squats next to her, pulling her hands from the water to hold between his. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and wipes a line of blood trickling from her temple.

“What do I do?” she whispers. “I can’t get it off.”

He looks down at her hands. “They’re clean, Clarke.” Read more…


[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Talk of the Town

This story is being reposted from 2011 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

Sam and Jack get stranded on a planet when the Gate malfunctions. What to do with their time?
2,693 words | [PG-13]

“You know, Carter,” Jack said, kicking at a half-buried rock, “people are going to start talking.”

“About what, sir?” Her voice was muffled by the DHD—her head buried in the innards of the ancient device.


She looked up at him, squinting at the sun that glinted over his shoulder. “What about us?” She had that look in her eye. The one that said she thought she knew what they were not discussing.

Jack pulled his gaze away from her and stared at the barren horizon. This planet was desolate. No civilization. No habitation at all as far as they could tell. They did their tests, set up their equipment and huffed it back to the gate as quickly as possible.

“Just… these things keep happening to us,” he finally said with a slight grimace.

Carter grunted. “It’s not our fault the Gate malfunctioned.” She ducked back into the DHD, a string of muttered curses following her.

Jack smiled and tried to ignore the fact that all he could see was her wiggling backside. He quickly looked away, his thoughts confirming his concern over the situation. “No, it’s not. But when the same thing keeps happening to just us.”

“It’s not always just us, sir. Last time Teal’c got stuck with us.” She continued to grumble to herself as she tried to figure out the issue with the DHD this time.

“I know that. Doesn’t stop people from talking.” Jack kicked at the offending rock, finally breaking it free of its grave. It skittered across the hard-packed dirt landing next to Carter’s leg. She suddenly rocked back on her heels and threw a broken crystal into the now empty compartment with disgust.

“Since when do you care what people think?”

“I don’t.” Read more…

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: All It Took Was a Sunrise

This story is being reposted from 2012 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

Daniel, Vala and the sunrise—just a little bit of talking. And a lot more action.
1,632 words | [PG-13]

It’s still dark when Daniel’s watch goes off. He gropes for the small button that stifles the noise, groaning into his jacket balled under his head. With a yawn and great effort, he hauls himself up and slides his feet into his boots.

The air is crisp, smelling of pine and fresh rain. Daniel shivers and pulls his jacket closed, tucking his hands under his arms. He expects to see the fire going, maybe some coffee already brewing, but the clearing outside his tent is eerily empty—the fire long burned out.

“Crap,” he mumbles as he rubs the tired from his eyes. Where the hell is Vala? Mitchell is going to kill her.

He spends several minutes wandering around the woods before he finds her. She’s sitting on an outcrop of rocks, the valley far below. The view is amazing as the sun begins to peek over the horizon—the sky turning a pale shade of pink. Vala’s got her legs tucked up, chin resting on her knees, arms tight around her. Daniel can’t see her face, but he notices how her shoulders relax when a salty breeze blows in from the sea beyond the distant hills.

Her hair flutters around her, and a hand comes up to push it from her face. It glistens in the dawn light like the moon shimmering on a placid lake. Daniel’s struck by how beautiful she looks—hair coming loose, clothes coated in a layer of dust, the first rays of the morning sun casting a glow around her. His pulse quickens, unwanted thoughts rushing through his mind.

He can’t deny there’s always been some kind of attraction—even as they duked it out on the Prometheus all those years ago—but this feels different. His stomach flips, curls in on itself until his insides feel like a tightly wound ball of rubber bands. Just waiting to snap. Read more…

[REPOST] The 100 fic: Fall to Pieces

This story is being reposted from 2017 as part of this endeavor. Since it was written in the last few years, it didn’t need any extra editing (yay!), but it fits with my theme for February, so I’m reposting it. Enjoy.


Canon divergent. After a year on the ground, Bellamy and Clarke are finally ready to confront their feelings. As long as Bellamy doesn’t break his neck first.
1,461 words | [PG]

By Clarke’s calculations, they’ve been on the ground for around 380 days. It’s the end of September. Or maybe it’s early October. It’s hard to tell. The chill of autumn has chased away the sweltering heat of July and August, but summer is making a last stand. The sun that filters through the treetops tickles her skin, leaving little goosebumps down her arms. She glances to her side—those might be from another reason, though.

Next to her, Bellamy’s hair flutters around his head in the warm breeze. He repeatedly shoves it out of his eyes with a huff, but it does no good. Watching him try makes her grin.

“You need a haircut.”

He snorts. “Thinking of making a career change to hairstylist, princess?” he asks without any of his usual derision. He shoots her a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and releases a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

Clarke looks away before he can see her blush. She’d never hear the end of it. If there was one thing Bellamy was good at it was teasing her. He knew how to push all of her buttons. Which, she has to admit, isn’t always a bad thing. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him still smiling. It looks good on him. She wishes he would do it more often. “Why are you in such a good mood?

“What do you mean?”

She doesn’t believe his innocent act for a second. And she’s not going to fall for his charm. Not much anyway. She narrows her eyes at him, hoping she looks more stern and less like he has her insides doing gymnastics. “You’re acting weird. What are you up to?”

“Are you always this suspicious?”

“When it comes to you—yes.” Read more…

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Amongst the Dust

This story is being reposted from 2011 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

“Carter’s eyes continued to move swiftly from his eyes to his lips, and he did everything in his power to not mimic the movement himself.”
523 words | [PG]

“Sure is dusty down here,” Daniel said with another echoing sneeze.

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s a basement, Daniel.”

Sam moved around the boxes to pat Daniel’s shoulder. “If your allergies are bothering you, why don’t you go upstairs?”

“I want to help-”

“Perhaps,” Teal’c interrupted, “we can procure some nourishment.”

“Good idea. Go get some food for us, Daniel. By the time you get back, me and Carter will be done.”

Daniel glanced at each of them then opened his mouth to answer but a sneeze overcame him. Jack just shook his head. He noticed Carter trying not to smile as Daniel left amid another bout of sneezing. Dust drifted in the sunlight filtering through the small windows dotting the exterior walls. It gave the entire room a slightly surreal feel.

“Let me help you with those, Carter.” Jack came up behind the major, his arms above his head to catch the teetering box she was attempting to shift onto a high shelf.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her voice sounding a little rough. Jack realized that might have something to do with him being practically wrapped around her still. In the dark basement. The dark, empty basement. He swallowed hard. Read more…

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Jack the Spoilsport

This story is being reposted from 2011 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

An alternate ending to the shower scene in the Broca Divide.
485 words | [R]

“I don’t think so.” Carter’s breath is hot in his ear, and she starts to trail kisses down his neck.

Jack groans in frustration as every nerve ending in his body fires at once, sending a shiver down his spine—something that normally he would appreciate but not right now with this woman who obviously wasn’t in her right mind. Carter must feel him tremble because she growls into his skin, and her touch roughens, teeth sinking into his shoulder. He sucks in a sharp breath, fighting for control—of himself and her.

“Carter-” His own voice is rough and giving away much more than he would like.

“Sir?” The way that word falls from her lips ignites even more lusty thoughts, nearly undoing what little internal control he has left. He pushes the shower fantasy to the back of his mind, thankful somewhere in there he still has some sense.

With great effort, he pulls away, trying to get his knees under him. But Carter has other ideas. She catches him off balance, hooking a leg over his hips and twisting. Jack crashes back to the ground shocked at her sudden increase in strength. She squirms in his grip until he finds himself flat on his back, the wet floor dampening his clothes. Read more…

[REPOST] Red vs Blue fic: Save the Last Dance for Me

This story is being reposted from 2018 as part of this endeavor. Since it was written in the last few years, it didn’t need any extra editing (yay!), but it fits with my theme for February, so I’m reposting it. Enjoy.


York’s not sure what to think when Carolina puts his dancing lessons to use because she looks amazing twirling across the floor. And he’s not the only one noticing. A sequel to Shut Up and Dance.
694 words | [R for language]

York watched Carolina glide around the dance floor like she was born for it. Then again, dancing wasn’t much different than fighting. Just with less punching and broken bones. But did she have to dance so close to that Jamison guy? York tried to pretend the churning feeling in his gut was something other than jealousy. He was above that kind of juvenile thing. Right?

She sure looked like she was having fun. He didn’t really blame her. The guy could dance and had a lot of other things going for him—rich, suave, handsome. And not a complete disaster when he spoke to women. Things York wasn’t.

He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could watch. If she hadn’t gotten that key card by now she never was and if that guy’s hand goes any lower on her back, York was going to blow their cover anyway.

Shit. York taps Jamison’s on the shoulder. The man looks confused when he turns and Carolina starts shooting daggers at him. He’s pretty sure if she had actual knives on her, she’d literally be throwing them. He managed to keep his cool, though. “Would you mind if I cut in? I’d like to dance with my wife.” Read More…

[REPOST] Red vs Blue fic: Shut Up and Dance

This story is being reposted from 2018 as part of this endeavor. Since it was written in the last few years, it didn’t need any extra editing (yay!), but it fits with my theme for February, so I’m reposting it. Enjoy.


A mission without armor and weapons? Instead there’s black ties and gowns. Schmoozing and dancing. Sounds like Carolina’s worst nightmare. Specifically, the dancing part.

York, though, is loving every bit of it. Especially, the dancing part.
1,685 words | [PG-13]

Carolina studied the invitation in her hands. It was clear plastic with holographic ink that shimmered when the light hit it just right.


Verdidad Museum of Human Culture

100th Grand Gala


Their next mission. Words spun in her head. Museum. Gala. Black tie. Ball. No armor. Dancing. She didn’t like any of them. Some less than others.

York caught up with her in the hall. “Hey, you were awfully quiet in there. Everything okay?”


He laughed. “I’ve never seen you zone out in a briefing before.”

She frowned at him. “I wasn’t zoning out. I was thinking.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” When she didn’t respond, he tapped her arm. “Come on—something’s on your mind. You can tell me.”

“This mission doesn’t-” She considered her words before finishing. “I don’t know, rub you the wrong way? Fancy gala. No armor. We’ll be vulnerable.”

“Oh, come on, Carolina, it’ll be fun. We get to dress up, and look, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Chamberlain.” He waggled his eyebrows—a goofy smile on his face.

Carolina shook her head, biting back a smile. The man couldn’t take anything seriously. She stared hard at the invitation like the wording might magically change. Get dressed up? Mr. and Mrs.? The bad feeling grew. “I don’t like being vulnerable,” she finally said, not looking at him.

York sighed. “Always got to rain on my parade.”

“I just don’t like it. How are we supposed to get the key card from this Jamison guy?”

“I don’t know? It’s a ball—dance with him.”

Carolina froze, causing York to stumble to a stop a few steps away. “Dance?” Read more…

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Healthy Fear of the Dark

This story is being reposted from 2018 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

Jack and Sam are trapped in the dark. What to do to bide their time?
923 words | [PG-13]

“Carter, watch your hands.”

“Sorry, sir; I can’t see.”

“Well, neither can I, but you don’t see me putting my hands-”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I know, Carter. Hold on a second. And watch those hands.” Jack maneuvered away from his second-in-command. At least as much as he could with their bodies pressed so closely together in the confined space. He tried to ignore the heat radiating off of her. Or maybe the heat was coming from him. Either way, it was getting too hot to be comfortable.

Jack slid his hands along the smooth surface surrounding them but didn’t find what he was looking for. With a sigh, he turned back around. His hands—despite trying very hard to be aware of where they were—landed on something soft. Something soft and attached to the woman currently occupying the area in front of him.

She stilled completely before he jerked his hands back with a mumbled apology—both reactions coming a few beats too late. To his relief, she just snorted in what he hoped was amusement.

“Anything?” she asked after they both recovered some of their dignity.

Jack shook his head then rolled his eyes at himself. Not that Carter could see either. “No. What happened to the lights?”

“I don’t know, sir. I came in to investigate that weird noise-”

“I know, I heard it, too. It was driving me nuts. And, BAM, it’s dark and then you were there and… the hands.” Read more…

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Making Up For Lost Time

This story is being reposted from 2018 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

Years ago Jack and Sam made a big mistake but now they’re going to make it up to each other… it’s going to take more than just one weekend, though.
605 words | [PG]

“I think we made a big mistake.”

Jack feels his stomach drop at Carter’s soft words. A vice tightens around his chest and his breathing quickens. He’s dreaded hearing something like that from her since the moment they gave up pretending there was nothing going on. They’re lying in his bed in Washington after a long day of political blustering that left Jack on edge to begin with.

He came home to find Carter on his stoop looking slightly nervous—her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Jack couldn’t help but smile at the image she presented—nothing like the self-confident, strong colonel he had watched her grow into.

“Sir,” she had said then ducked her head. “I, uh, I mean Jack.”

Jack’s face had brightened at just that one word. “Carter,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye, taking the stairs two at a time. “Whatcha doing here?”

She had given him that look that always melted his heart and nearly melted his reserve on more than one occasion. He had let them into the dark house, and they settled in the kitchen, munching on cold pizza, chased down by even colder beers.

That had been three days ago. Now it’s Monday morning—early Monday morning—and real life is ready to invade again. Jack finally gets up the courage to look over at her. She’s curled on her side, her hand resting on his chest so he knows she can feel how fast his heart is beating—the rush of his blood drowning out all sound in his head. Read more…

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