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The 100 fanfic: Where the Green Grass Grows

100_wherethegreengrassgrowsThree years after settling on New Earth, Bellamy and Octavia finally find themselves at ease with life and looking forward to the future. 
1079 words | [G]


The little cabin sat on a hill surrounded by fields of wild grass and towering trees. It was small—only three rooms with a wide front porch and a vegetable garden out back. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Bellamy. It was more than he’d ever had in his entire life.

He reclined on the porch swing—his newest addition to the house—swaying lazily while he watched the sun set over the town below. A lot had changed in the last three years, mostly for the good, and they’d finally started to settle down. Started to accept New Earth as home.

The door creaked open. “I made lemonade,” Clarke said. “Or what passes for lemonade. Are those things even lemons if they’re purple?”

Bellamy laughed and accepted the cup of violet sugar water. Clarke eased down next to him, her belly pulling at her ill-fitting clothes. Any day now, they’d be adding a new addition. He kissed the side of her head. “If you want to call them lemons then they’re called lemons.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“You’re the princess so you get to name everything.” Read more…

The 100 fic: Penny for Your Thoughts

PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

A year after waking up light years from Earth, Bellamy and Clarke have a quiet moment and make some decisions.
545 words | [G]


“Penny for your thoughts, princess?”

Clarke started, nearly falling from her perch on the irrationally large boulder. Bellamy easily hauled himself up to sit next to her. They stared out into the valley below that the four hundred ten survivors were slowly converting to a real community. A lot had changed in the year since they arrived at New Earth. Clarke glanced at Bellamy, her heart fluttering. And some things hadn’t changed at all.

“I just have a lot on my mind, I guess,” she finally answered.

“When don’t you?”

Clarke ignored his dig. “Raven says she should have the generators repaired by tonight so lights. Diyoza and her gang are clearing the north pasture tomorrow. That Kennedy guy loves his explosions so it shouldn’t take long. My mom said-”

“I didn’t come up here to talk business, Clarke,” Bellamy said softly. “I get enough of that headache down there. I came up here to-” He trailed off. Read more…

The 100 fic: Hope for the Future

100_hopeforthefutureFour years after they lost everything, Bellamy and Murphy have a quiet moment to remember and find hope for a future that may never happen. Canon-divergent from the end of season 4. A little glimpse of what life might have been like on the ring.
470 words | PG


Bellamy pressed his forehead against the thick glass—the cold of space still leeching through, chilling his skin. He watched his breath fog the window, obscuring his view every few seconds. Not that there was much to see anymore. The Earth didn’t even look like the Earth. It was supposed to be green and blue, but all he could see was white—clouds of ash and nuclear fallout coating the planet. Occasionally, a bright spot of red flared where a fire ravaged the surface. Or a hurricane swirled the gray mess. But there was no green or blue. There hadn’t been for the last four years. Nothing could survive that.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

Bellamy glanced over his shoulder at Murphy leaning nearby then went back to staring out the window. “Go away.”

“Every year on the anniversary, you stand here and stare like you think the view might change.” Murphy joined him at the window. “News flash: it won’t.” Read more…

The 100 fic: No Place Else I’d Rather Be

When Bellamy and Clarke get stuck in the mud, it’s finally time to have a conversation that’s been brewing far too long.
2585 words | PG-13


Bellamy’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He leaned forward, scowling at the pounding rain. The windshield wipers couldn’t keep up, making it almost impossible to see. Next to him, Clarke stared out her window like she didn’t have a care in the world. This was her fault. He told her coming out here was a mistake. They should have waited until the clouds passed. But she insisted they needed to go now. So here he was, driving through a freaking monsoon. Because Clarke always got what Clarke wanted.

“We need to stop,” he said, not looking at her.

“What? No, we’re almost there.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not going to make it in one piece in this storm. I can’t see where I’m going.”

She craned her neck to see out the front window. “Just stay on the road.”

“What road?” His voice raised an octave. “There’s no road, Clarke. Just mud.” Read more…

The 100 fic: Running Out of Reasons to Pretend

runningoutofreasons

638 words | [PG]
The morning before Bellamy and Lincoln make their daring attempt to infiltrate Mt. Weather, Bellamy has a quiet moment with Clarke. He doesn’t know what to say to her anymore, but he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t care. 


Bellamy pulls the worn shirt over his head. The fabric stretches across his chest. He’s not sure where they found these clothes, but half are too small, and the other half are too big. He looks ridiculous, but it’s the best plan they have. As much as he pushed to go on this mission, he has to admit he’s terrified. He’s not sure what scares him more—the Reapers or the Mountain Men. Either way, he’s sure this is going to get messy.

The flap to the tent opens behind him. Clarke. He cocks his head to let her know it’s okay to come in while he tugs on the Grounder boots. Too big. He feels like a clown. Clarke’s gaze burns into his neck, but he continues to tie his shoes as slowly as possible. He’s not sure what to say to her. Things have been so crazy the last few days, and his emotions are all over the place with this mission coming up. He wishes he could read her mind so they could skip the inevitable awkward conversation.

Read more…

The 100 fic: Weather the Storm With You

100_weatherthestormwithyou

1828 words | [PG]
Bellamy gets more than he bargained for during a hail storm. Like a wet, angry, sobbing Clarke in his tent. Started for Camp NaNo 2017: inside.


The rain came out of nowhere—the kind that drowns out all other sound and pulverizes the ground into a muddy mess in seconds. And to think, Bellamy used to like the rain. Thought it was magical and refreshing that first night on the ground. Now he just feels wet. He throws open the flap to his tent, grumbling about rain and mud and anything else he can think to curse.

They’ve been on the ground less than two weeks and have already endured a hurricane and countless other storms. He’s tired of being cold and wet all of the time. His jacket catches on his arms when he tries to take it off. He slams it onto the ground in frustration when he finally gets unstuck then runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes with a sigh. He really, really hates being wet.

Read more…

The 100 fic: Don’t Look at Me That Way

dontlookatmelikethat

The 100 | 590 words | [PG]
Things are running smoother on the ground thanks to Clarke’s effect on Bellamy.


They’ve been on the ground two weeks. Despite the constant threat of grounder attack, Bellamy thinks things are running a lot smoother. Working with Clarke instead of against her probably helps the most. He went from avoiding her to seeking her out for her opinion on just about everything. She always makes him see things from a different perspective. Which is a good thing because his brain seems to only want to see things a certain way. His way.

He’s man enough to admit that the first few days on the ground were a disaster. Looking back, he’s surprised more kids didn’t die. The thought chills him. They’ve already lost so many. Too many. But with Clarke’s help, they finally have things under control. Mostly.

Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest and watches the two boys hammer out some difference. With their fists. Henry and Justin. Both fifteen. He has a feeling this fight has been brewing since long before they landed on the ground. He’s tired of playing referee with these kids so he stands back and does nothing.

Then he sees Clarke across the clearing, watching. Not the fight. No, she’s watching him. Great. Just what he needs. He tries to ignore her, but he can feel her eyes drilling a hole right through him. He glances at her again. She shakes her head, a sad look on her face. No, not sad. Disappointed. He bites his lip, brow furrowed. He doesn’t like the feeling creeping up his chest. At first, he isn’t sure what the problem is but it doesn’t take him long to pinpoint it.
Read more…

The 100 fanfic: Heaven Can’t Wait

heavencantwaitThe 100 | [PG-13]
Canon divergent. With the Apocalypse banging at their door, the Arkadians and what’s left of Trikru take refuge in the remains of Alpha Station and hope for the best.

Over 500 souls crammed into a tin can, but there’s only one that has Bellamy wrapped around her little fingers. Written for Camp NaNo: heaven.


Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – Can’t Save Everyone
Chapter 2 – One Live Saved Is One Life Saved
Chapter 3 – Not Alone Anymore
Chapter 4 – Don’t Get Attached
Chapter 5 – Finally Got Something Right
Chapter 6 – A Little Sidetracked
Chapter 7 – I Think She Likes You
Chapter 8 – Baby Whisperer
Chapter 9 – In Too Deep
Chapter 10 – Can We Keep Her?

Read more…

The 100 fic: Fall to Pieces

falltopieces.jpg
The 100 | 1454 words | [PG]
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. Written for April Camp NaNo.


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 hair stylist, 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.”

They stare at each other a moment before they both crack a smile. Bellamy shrugs. “It’s a nice day. I don’t have to deal with the whining back at camp. What’s not to be happy about?”

He has a point. It does feel nice to get a break from the monotony of camp where everyone constantly needs her attention. Bellamy, though, seemed especially eager to get away when she mentioned she needed an escort to the river. Usually, he pawned babysitting off on one of his gunners—Harper or Monroe went with her a lot. This time, he jumped at the opportunity then looked embarrassed by his enthusiasm. It was kind of cute.

Bellamy hops onto the crumbling remains of a wall. She watches him balance along it like a tightrope walker, arms out, as he climbs higher.

“You’re going to fall,” Clarke says, blocking the sun with her hand as she watches him cross the wall ten feet in the air.

“I’m not going to fall. Will you relax, Clarke.”

She rolls her eyes. Why did he have to be such a pain? “One of us has to be responsible.”

He ducks under the branch of an overhanging tree and looks down at her. “You think I’m not responsible?”

She squints up at him again. She can’t really see his face with the sun blinding her, but she imagines his annoyed look. “Not with your own life. Not really.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sounds genuinely offended.

Clarke shrugs. “When it comes to your own safety, you don’t seem to care much.”

“I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.”

“I know, but you don’t have to risk your own life to do it.”

He cocks his head. “So who’s life should I risk? Monty’s? Jasper’s? Yours?”

“I know you know what I’m talking about so quit acting like a jerk and get down here.” She bites her lip when he wobbles a little, but he recovers effortlessly. She’s pretty sure he did it intentionally just to give her a heart attack.

“Now I’m a jerk?” At least the devilish grin is back on his face.

Her heart flips. She’s not sure if it’s from that look he gives her or the fact that he’s one wrong step away from breaking his neck. He eyes a tree a good five feet from the wall.

“Bellamy-” Clarke warns, but as usual, he doesn’t listen.

He jumps, snagging the branch easily. His smirk lasts about three seconds. Then the branch gives with a loud crack. Bellamy lands with a thud on his back, the air rushing out of him in a groan.

Clarke runs over, sliding to her knees next to him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes roll back as he fights for breath, but eventually, he gasps. Clarke lets out her own relieved breath then smacks his chest. “I told you to be careful.”

“No, you didn’t.” He pries a rock out from under him, tossing it into the woods. “You just said I would fall.”

“And you did.”

Bellamy gives her a crooked grin. “Still didn’t tell me to be careful.”

She smacks him again. Sometimes she thinks he argues just to annoy her. “You didn’t give me a chance. Besides, it’s implied, smartass. Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

Clarke helps him sit up, watching him carefully for signs of injury. He seems okay. “You know, there are easier ways to impress me.”

His face flushes scarlet. “Why do you think I’m trying to impress you?” he sputters, voice sounding a little strangled. She has to bite back a smile because his awkwardness is adorable.

Neither of them says anything for a long time. They’ve been dancing around their feelings for over a year. It’s exhausting. She’s about to tell him she’s tired of playing games, but he cuts her off.

“I wanted to spend time with you. Is that such a bad thing?” Bellamy says softly. He picks up a twig and nervously breaks it apart. “We’re both always so busy.”

Clarke sucks in a sharp breath. She didn’t expect him to come right out with it, but now that they’re actually talking about this, she’s a little terrified. She swallows hard but the lump is still stuck in her throat. “If you wanted to spend time with me you could have just asked. You didn’t have to fall out of a tree to get my attention.”

Bellamy ducks his head. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“Uh-huh.”

His cheeks are still rosy, but Clarke sees the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “For reference in the future, what do I have to do to impress you?”

Her heart does another backflip. “For starters, just tell me when you want to hang out instead of elaborate plots to get me alone.”

He blushes again—it’s charming how insecure he is right now. “What if I want to do more than hang out?”

His eyes widen. She’s not sure who’s more surprised by his confession. Before he can take it back, she leans closer. “Then quit being a baby and make a move.”

She can see the moment he realizes she’s serious. He cups her face slowly—giving her a chance to change her mind. It makes her love him even more. The second their lips brush, an explosion of desire chases the butterflies away. Clarke’s entire body vibrates. The heat between them burns her skin, but she can’t get enough of it. She tangles her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck causing Bellamy to growl. The sound makes her head spin. She’s lost and doesn’t care if she’s ever found. How does he even have this effect on her?

When they finally pull apart, Bellamy’s pupils are shot, giving him a dazed look. “Wow,” he murmurs, breathless. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Clarke’s heart threatens to beat right out of her chest. The way he’s looking at her right now might be the most beautiful thing on Earth. And it took way too long for her to find it. She pulls him closer—she’s tired of waiting. “I think I do.”

This kiss is sweeter. Tender. It’s a side of Bellamy she wouldn’t have believed existed a year ago. She’s glad he’s finally showing it.

“Am I impressing you yet?” he says against her lips.

Clarke laughs. “Bellamy, you’ve been impressing me since the day we met.”

He leans back, eyebrow cocked. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

She pretends to think. “I’m not sure. You might have to kiss me a few more times-” He doesn’t give her a chance to finish. Which is fine. Clarke can’t remember what she was talking about anyway. It may have taken 380 days, but it was worth every argument and smartass comment it took to get here. Well worth it.

The 100 fic: A Hero Without a Sunset to Ride Into

aheroThe war may be over, but the battles never end. Bellamy contemplates the consequences of war. Post-season 2 finale.
608 words | [PG-13]


The history books never tell you that the end of the war is just the beginning. It’s the start of cleaning up. Of healing wounds. Of returning to life. Or starting a new one.

Now that the war is over, Bellamy’s finding this part to be the hardest. As far as he can tell, they won, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. He’s exhausted—physically and emotionally. He feels like he’s been torn apart and stitched back together, but the seams don’t quite match up. His world has tilted into something unrecognizable. The color drained, sounds muffled. He wades through pain and swims in a fog so thick he can’t breathe without drowning.

He’s killed more people than he cares to count. His hands aren’t just covered in blood, he’s bathed in it. He hates the things he’s done. Hates the things he’s seen. He hates himself and the world and God if there is one. The war may be over, but the echoed screams of a murdered generation haunt his dreams. They wrench him from restless sleep—sweat-soaked and tear-stained. Only there’s no escape this time because he’s the monster in this nightmare.

Bellamy settles at a table in the mess hall but has neither strength nor motivation to eat. He stares blindly at the food, pushing it around on his plate. He thinks it might be pot roast. The mess is filled with people just like him—adrift in a stupor of heartache and misery. Personal hells of their own making. He’s never been more alone than in this crowded room.

He forces a smile on his face as his friends sit down, ignoring the empty spaces between them. They don’t talk about the missing. They don’t talk about anything really. Like Bellamy, they fake their smiles and chit-chat about the weather. And when they’re done, they’ll all go back to their quarters and weep for the people they once were.

This is the part they forget to tell you—that you don’t just mourn the dead. You mourn what used to be and what could have been. You mourn the spark of life that has fizzled out inside of you. You mourn the innocence you can never get back.

War is a one-way street—no U-turns allowed. Or maybe it’s like a raging river, tossing you in rapids until you are bruised and battered against the rocks only to throw you over the precipice of a waterfall that has no end yet you drown in it all the same.

The panic wells up out of nowhere. Bellamy’s world tilts a little more. He grips the table to ground himself and manages to breathe through the terror without anyone noticing. They’re all far too consumed by their own nightmares to notice his screams anyway.

Peace comes with a price. Surprise!—you fought for a future you no longer deserve. The blood on the fields will dry. The dead can be buried. Wounds heal and the sun rises, but a shattered soul can never be made whole. In his head and in his heart, Bellamy knows he’s broken—a fractured reflection of himself. His sins require absolution he cannot give.

So he eats with his friends and laughs at their jokes. He breathes in and out. In the mornings, he goes to work, and every night the Devil returns to chase him to the brink of his sanity. He’s afraid one day he might jump. It would be a lot easier.

Because the books don’t tell you how to make peace with your demons.

They don’t tell you how to start over again.

They don’t tell you it’s the beginning of the end.

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