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Archive for the tag “genre: angst”

The 100 fic: Wash Away the Pain

blood

Clarke has too much blood on her hands, but Bellamy is there to help wash it away.
1272 words | rating: 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.

“Clarke?”

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.”

She doesn’t believe him, but she’s afraid to look again. He watches her a moment longer then stands up, pulling her up with him. “Come on.”

He unties his boots, kicking them to the side. He tosses his jacket to the side and peels out of his t-shirt. Clarke swallows, squeezing her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to think about how perfect he looks without a shirt on or how he does have a smattering of freckles across his shoulders. It’s both adorable and sexy. And completely inappropriate.

Bellamy leans over and dips his shirt in the water then starts wiping her face. He’s gentle, starting at the top and working his way down. Despite the cold, she feels the heat rolling off of his bare skin.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

With my life, she wants to tell him, but the words catch in her throat. Instead she nods. Without saying another word, he carefully pulls off her shoes and socks. The rocks dig into her blistered feet, but she doesn’t complain.

He bites his lip—his eyes catching hers. He holds her gaze as he carefully removes her jacket. His fingers trail down her arms, sending a shiver up her spine.

He grips the hem of her shirt. “Still with me?”

She nods again, closing her eyes as he lifts the shirt off of her. She’s not sure she can look at him now. He casually undoes her pants, and she steps out of them, shivering. But he’s not done. She hears the zipper of his pants—the fabric pooling at his feet. He grips her hand tightly and guides her into the river.

The water is like a thousand tiny daggers hitting her all at once. She gasps and nearly sucks in a lungful of water. Bellamy wraps his arms around her waist—their chests pressed together—to keep her from sinking.

Bellamy carefully leans her head back and washes her hair, threading his fingers through the knots. Then he wipes her cheeks with his thumbs. His hands glide down her arms, pulling her hands between them. He rubs at her finger nails until the dark stains are gone.

When she looks up at him, his face is blurred behind tears. She blinks them away. He gives her that shy, sad smile he reserves just for her. She knows the emotions behind it. The way she keeps breaking his heart. The way he just accepts it. Because that’s who he is. She loves him for that.

She swallows down the lump. She might be in love with him.

Before she can think better of it, she reaches up and wipes a smudge of dirt from his temple. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her as she returns his favor—cleaning his face and hair. Even when she’s done, she can’t stop running her fingers through his curls. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer until their bodies are completely flush. His nose brushes hers, and she lets out a little sigh.

“Clarke,” he says, voice rough. He pushes her hair from her face, letting his fingers skim her chilled cheeks. Everywhere he touches heats up. He leans in closer until their lips are barely touching. But something stops him. He pulls back ever so slightly, and she thinks she might die from the anticipation. He clears his throat. “Clarke, we-”

“Please,” she whispers. “Can we just forget about everything else. Just this once. Can it be just you and me. No Ark, no Earth, no grounders, no war.”

“No Lexa?”

She shakes her head. “Lexa’s gone.”

“Clarke, I don’t want you to forget her.”

“I’m not. But-” She runs her fingers over his lips. They’re chapped but soft. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my chance.”

He chuckles softly. “With me?” He waits for her to look up. “Never, Clarke. I’ll be here when you’re ready. Whenever that is.” He slips his fingers into her hair and pulls her face closer, planting soft kisses on her forehead. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I love you, Clarke.”

Every molecule in her body hums alive at his words. She wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He doesn’t question her breakdown; he just holds her tighter. When she finally gets control, she pulls back just far enough to see his face. The sun is setting behind him, casting him in shadows, but his eyes are wide, tracking her movements. She places a hand on either side of his face. The blood is finally gone—her skin shining white in the waning sun.

Slowly she leans forward, letting their lips touch softly. He doesn’t react at first, but she presses, knowing he just needs a sure confirmation. And then he groans. His arms tighten in a bear hug as he deepens the kiss. It’s like he can’t get enough. And damn, Clarke doesn’t want this to end. Some small part of her mind starts to compare this with her first kiss with Lexa, but she shoves it away—surprised at how easily she boxes up the memories. It’s been over a year; she has to move on eventually. And Bellamy’s been waiting this whole time.

When she pulls away again, his eyes are slightly unfocused but with a hint of fear like he thinks maybe she changed her mind. “Bellamy.”

He tenses, obviously waiting for it all to fall apart. Her heart aches for him. She did this to him. She left him over and over. Chose someone else at every turn. And he’s still here. At her side every day without question. Her lip trembles. And not from the cold. “I love you,” she whispers. And to erase any questions he might have, she adds, “I’m in love with you, Bellamy, and I have been for a long time.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his body completely still. She meets his gaze as tears gather in the corners of his eyes. She tilts his face closer, kissing each tear away before returning to his lips.

“God, Clarke,” he moans into her mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out what I wanted.”

He kisses her softly. “You’re worth the wait.”

She smiles against his lips. “So are you.”

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The 100 fic: Forty Days to Gone

40days

Bellamy contemplates the first forty days on the ground with Clarke.
462 words | rating: PG


Forty days. That’s all it’s been. It seems longer. A lifetime.

Only forty days?

Bellamy watches Clarke from the corner of his eye as they march back to Tondc for what feels like the hundredth time this week. She’s been quiet. Withdrawn since Finn’s death. Bellamy gets that. They were friends. She cared about Finn. Loved him, maybe. And she had to kill him. That takes a toll on anyone. And Clarke’s emotions run pretty near the surface.

Bellamy’s learning to hide his better. There’s too much to lose. His heart is one of those things. So he keeps a lid on his feelings. Keeps them close and himself distant. Or he tries. Sometimes Clarke makes it so damn hard. She brings out an overprotective instinct in him. He hates seeing her so withdrawn. Hates seeing her hurting.

He doesn’t know what to say, though. Nothing will make it better.

Forty days. At least he thinks it’s been forty days. He’s lost track. It could be thirty or sixty or a hundred. Who knows. It seems like forever. But forty days is a short while. He shouldn’t feel this way for her so soon. Shouldn’t want to be at her side always. Shouldn’t need her. His world doesn’t make sense without Clarke next to him.

It took forty days for him to fall for her.

No, that’s not true. He fell for her a long time ago. He’s not exactly sure when. Sometime between landing and killing Dax. He wouldn’t have fought back if Clarke hadn’t been there. But he couldn’t let her get hurt.

It took forty days for him to realize he fell for her.

That’s not true, either. He realized it right around the time they all almost died of the plague. He expected to worry about Octavia. He hadn’t expected the terror at the thought of Clarke getting sick. Of losing her.

It took forty days for him to admit to himself he fell for her.

Also not true. He admitted it a while ago. That day she threw herself into his arms. That day he realized she’d survived the battle at the dropship. He knew it the moment he held her tight and never wanted to let go.

No, it took forty days for him to accept that he was in love with Clarke.

And there is no changing that. They’ve been through so much, and he’d follow her to Hell and back if she asked. This fight with Mt. Weather is looking pretty close to being Hell. God help him—he’s already gone.

Forty days is all it took for him to lose his mind. And walking next to her along the dusty road, contemplating their next war, he knows he wouldn’t change a thing.

The 100 (TV) fic: Every Time We Say Goodbye

everytime

Bellamy/Clarke

Saying good-bye gets harder and harder. Bellamy hopes this one isn’t forever. Episode tag for S02e16.

586 words | rating: PG


Every time we say goodbye, it gets harder and harder to let you go.

I want to tell her that. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but my pride stops me every time. Or fear. Fear of being rejected. Fear of being accepted. Fear of losing a part of me. I prefer the pride theory—it doesn’t sound as pathetic.

This goodbye just might kill me, though. My heart races when I realize she’s serious about leaving. Is she insane? Maybe there’s a tentative peace with the Grounders, but there are other dangers out there. And who knows how long the Grounders will honor the truce. Or if they all will. A lot of them dislike Clarke with a passion. She tends to have that effect on people. You either hate her or love her.

I know. Because I really hate the way her mouth keeps repeating, “I’m so sorry,” over and over. And I hate how defeated she looks. How defeated she makes me feel when she looks at me with those haunted eyes. I hate her for making me hurt this damn much.

“Clarke-”

She cuts me off, as she did the other four times I tried to talk some sense into her. “I just can’t, Bellamy. You have to understand.”

I’m trying. I really am, but panic is setting in and overriding whatever part of my brain is left for empathy. It’s selfish of me to want her to stay just for me, but I’m damn near close to begging her. The thought of her out in the forest alone scares me a lot more than losing my pride, but I bite my tongue and hold my breath.

My heart pounds in my head. I wonder how it got up there when it’s supposed to be in my chest. There’s probably no room left because I still haven’t let out that breath. She looks sadly over her shoulder at the camp. We worked so hard to get this started, I want to tell her. You can’t go now. Not yet. Not without me.

I’m ready to offer to go with her, but she catches me off guard when she leans up and kisses me softly on the cheek. It’s not my pride that keeps my mouth shut this time, but unbridled fear. Because I don’t know what that kiss means. I do know it’s not enough. The only thing keeping me from throwing her over my shoulder and dragging her back to camp is the fact that she’s carrying a knife and could carve my still-beating heart from my chest if she wanted.

That, and my unyielding respect for her. She walks away from me as I’m forced to swallow another breath, to keep pushing air in and out when it feels like the world is crushing me. She’s really doing it. And I’m letting her. And I think it might kill me, but what choice do I have?

If I told her the truth—that I needed her, that I didn’t think I could get through a day without her—would she change her mind? I almost died for her. I don’t ask, though, because it would hurt too much if she left anyway.

Maybe the next goodbye will be easier. If there is one. Because as I watch her disappear into the treeline, I vow there will never be a “next time” because I won’t let her go alone. Next time she won’t get rid of me as easily.

The 100 (tv) fic: Every Time I Turn Around

turnaroundSince she came back, Clarke is always there whenever Bellamy turns around, even when he doesn’t know he needs her. Bellamy’s thoughts during his emotional conversation with Clarke in 3.13.

272 words | rating: PG


I don’t know how long I’ve stood out here, listening to the softly lapping waves. The sun’s gone down so it’s been a while. When I hear the crunching of rocks, I know it can only be one person. Octavia isn’t talking to me and Jasper would never come out here for a heart-to-heart so that leaves Clarke. I don’t need her sympathy right now. Or the way she can crawl under my skin and get right into my soul. I hate it. I want to hate her. To hate the world right now. But the only thing I hate is myself.

I last about five seconds before I confess every sin in my heart. I don’t know what it is about her. She doesn’t even have to say anything and I’m bearing my soul to her. And I’m crying. Goddammit. I wipe away the tears and try to look anywhere but at her, but her face keeps drawing me back—the gentleness of her eyes, the sadness in her lips.

She wants to know if I’ll ever forgive myself. I don’t see how I can. I remember sitting under that tree with her a lifetime ago. I thought I was a monster then, but that was nothing compared to this. My mother wouldn’t even recognize me. But Clarke always sees me. Even in the dark.

When she reaches for me, I can’t think of anything that I deserve less, and nothing I want more than to feel her arms around me. I don’t know how she forgives me, but maybe if she can do it, so can I. Maybe. Some day.

The 100 fic: Worn Around the Edges

worn

Bellamy tries to be the friend that Clarke needs while she deals with what happened in The City of Light even if it tears apart his heart.

3013 words | rating: PG


“So,” Bellamy says, leaning on the wall next to Clarke. It’s late; everyone not on watch is asleep. Of course Clarke is up. He’s not sure she sleeps anymore. Day or night, whenever he’s on patrol, she’s wandering around.

“So.” She pushes her hands into the pockets of her jacket. He hadn’t noticed her trading in her Grounder leathers for standard Ark attire. Hadn’t realized how much he missed the familiar look until now.

He mimics her pose—hands in his jacket pockets. She lets out a soft sigh; he’s not sure if it’s just relieving stress or from agitation. He sighs in return. She leans her head back against the cool metal; he leans his head back. Finally she looks up at him, eyes narrowed.

Read more…

The 100 (TV) fic: I Found a Girl

hug_foundagirlI Found a Girl
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
The 100 (TV)
Bellamy/Clarke
495 words
rating: PG

Bellamy’s been walking all night, carrying the weight of the world and the lone survivor of Factory Station. His mission to find Clarke has failed miserably. And another member of the group died on his watch. He’s not looking forward to this homecoming, but Camp Jaha has a surprise waiting for him.

My take on the reunion scene in episode 2.05: Human Trials. I fudged the details just a little—call it poetic license. (Title: I Found a Girl by Jan and Dean.)

don’t own… wish I did, but I don’t. No infringement intended.


I hurt. Everywhere—inside and out. My arms ache, my feet are blistered, and my soul is splintered. We hobble into Camp Jaha, ragged with exhaustion. Abby runs up, and I try not to look as defeated as I feel. I’m not sure I can take her disappointment on top of my own.

I didn’t find Clarke.

But Abby barely glances at me—her concern concentrated on the girl I’m practically carrying. She listens to my pathetic report then guides Mel and Monroe away. Not a single question about Clarke.

I find out why a second later when Clarke launches herself at me before I can even process the sight of her. She’s here. In camp. In my arms. And I’m standing here like an idiot as she cries into my shoulder. I don’t know what this means, but I do know the weight inside me lifts. Suddenly I can breathe.

I throw my arms around her, holding tight. I’m afraid to let go because this might just all be a dream. I bury my face in the crook of her neck. She smells like sweat and dirt and the antiseptic used to clean her wounds. I fight back burning tears. Eventually her grip eases, and I have to let go.

Her eyes search my face. I wonder what she finds there. I take the chance to blatantly stare back. She looks horrible—her face a patchwork of cuts and bruises, blood and grime. If I could take away her pain, I would. Not that she’d ever let me.

She sniffles; I sniffle. She smiles; I smile. Is her heart racing like mine? She steps away to hug Octavia. My sister eyes me with the kind of look that always puts me on guard. Her smirk says, “I know your secret.”

I swallow hard. I have no problem admitting that I care about Clarke. We’ve been through too much together to deny that, but anything more seems dangerous. Love makes you do stupid things. Like take your illegal sister into public knowing your mother will be floated if anyone found out. Love weakens you. It opens whole new paths of pain. Of course, none of that changes the warm tickle in my chest when she’s around.

Clarke looks between Octavia and me, her smile fading. “Where’s Finn?”

It feels like an eternity before I can pull myself together and not sound like she shattered me into a thousand pieces with two words. I take a deep breath, rebuilding protective walls, then catch her gaze. “Looking for you.”

Her lips scowl at me, but her eyes are a million miles away, already searching for Finn. She’ll leave as soon as she can, and she won’t have to ask if I’ll go with because we both know I will. I’d follow her to the ends of the Earth. Even to look for the guy she’s in love with. At least then I’ll know where to find her.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic: All I Want for Christmas is You

buffyspikeAll I Want for Christmas is You
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Buffy/Spike
1322 words
rating: PG
WARNINGS:

Set in season six. Buffy’s back from the dead and still having a hard time dealing with life; Christmas is almost more than she can handle. While her friends take a break from the chaos that is their lives, Buffy sneaks out, only to find Spike doing his stalker routine. But things aren’t always as bad as they seem, and neither is Spike.

don’t own… wish I did, but I don’t. No infringement intended.


The door clicked softly behind Buffy. She pulled her sweater tighter around her as she sat on the back steps. Her breath hung in the cool December air. From inside, she could hear her friends singing carols, buzzed on too much spiked eggnog. She leaned her head into her hands; everything was so hard.

After a moment, she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “What do you want, Spike?”

Spike chuckled. “You always seem to know where I am, love.”

“I could smell the smoke.” Read more…

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