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#the 100 murphy
swagatron9 · 2 years
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Late Night Snuggle
Pairings: John Murphy x reader
Warnings: None
Summary: Snuggling with Murphy
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The first night on Earth wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, minus the few fights that had already happened, and the extreme leadership role Bellamy and Murphy had taken up. The only good thing that came out of those few things was my relationship with John Murphy, which had benefits. Considering Murphy was now seen as Bellamy's right-hand man, that meant people also respected me and were less likely to come off as rude. This also meant I got the privilege of having a decent-sized tent.
I sighed as I stripped out of the heavy weighted jacket I had been walking around in all day. Night had come quicker than I expected, and I was really starting to feel all the drained energy from today's long day.
I took most of my clothes off until I was at least what was considered decent. With all these criminals around, who knew what could happen.
Today I had, had the tough job of making sure Murphy didn't get in any fights, and it had all been going so well. Until the sun dropped, and the moon rose in the sky, dinner had been served and they were sticking to the traditional take your wristband off to get food rule.
My eyes shut and I was forced to listen to the peaceful sound of drunken delinquents, a pleasant experience. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I had been rudely awakened by the tent being unzipped. "What?" I murmured sleepily.
"Just came to see my girl, is that a problem?" My head snapped up at Murphy's voice and a smile grew on my face. I held my hands out to him signaling for him to join me in some enjoyable sleep. He chuckled at my childishness and tugged off his jacket, followed by his shirt, and then his pants. Once he was left in his underwear, he laid down beside me and pulled me in close to his naked chest.
"Look at the big bad Murphy snuggling." Murphy scoffed at my teasing although I did hear a little laugh escape his lips as he nuzzled his face into my neck. "Have you gone all soft on me?"
"I'm not soft."
"I know I can feel it." Murphy began to choke on air while I laid, practically cackling.
"Shut up." I noticed the faint blush on Murphy's cheeks and gasped. As soon as he saw my reaction, he rolled the other way and pressed his face into the makeshift pillow.
"Don't hide your cute face from me." I tried to pry his hands away from blocking his face, but his strength won this time. Instead of bothering to try again, I wrapped my arms around him, so I was spooning him.
"Can I help you?" I heard Murphy mumble.
"No, I'm alright," I answered.
"I'm supposed to cuddle you."
"Shh, I'm sleeping." No more words were exchanged and for the first time ever, I held the big bad Murphy as he slept. A dream come true.
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sickoherd · 2 years
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JOHN MURPHY — trying to help.
fluff !!
summary: murphy has the sickness from the grounders.
no pronouns for reader mentioned.
era: dropship
warnings !! illness, brief mentions of blood
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“y/n, i’m fine- stop fussing over me!”
murphy saying that made you put the cloth down in frustration. he was very ill, even more so than what the grounders did to him.
you were just trying to help him.
“murphy, i swear-“ you were cut off by him having a coughing fit, and you quickly manoeuvred him into sitting up. you lifted his chin so that’d he accept the canteen of water you were holding against his dry lips.
“you’re not fine murphy.” you whispered as he drunk the water.
finally surrendering, murphy allowed you to place the cool cloth back on his forehead, and carefully comb through his damp hair with your fingertips.
it was a nice feeling, being taken care of. a foreign one, to him.
you didnt know when you started to care for this boy, but it just happened. murphy was somewhat kind to you, when you were sent out hunting together. he watched your back, and you watched his.
you had started falling for him.
and you didn’t know it yet, but murphy was falling too.
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talesofphantombandits · 2 months
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Star Crossed ~ John Murphy. (The 100)
Summary: Beau and John had been friends since childhood, as they both grew so did their relationship, that's until John gets arrested and they are torn apart before anything serious could happen between them. As luck would have it, Beau also gets arrested a week before the 100 are sent to the ground, their reunion is short lived though when Murphy gets banished from camp and Beau gets taken by the mountain men. Will these two star crossed lovers ever find their way back to one another and finally get their happy ending? Not likely.
Character Pairing: John Murphy X Beau Scott.
Masterlist Here!
Taglist ~
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Living in Mount Weather wasn’t as bad as Beau first thought it would be. Although now that Clarke had passed decontamination and was reunited with the rest of the group, she had started up her normal chaos. There was thing Beau was really missing though. John Murphy. 
Beau and Murphy had been friends since they were children, a friendship that in time grew into something that might have become more. That’s if John hadn’t of gotten himself arrested, but she wasn’t mad at him she was actually proud of him for doing what was right. She herself had gotten arrested about a week before they were dropped on earth, She was equal parts scared and excited. She didn’t know what to expect when they landed but she just hoped that Murphy would be one of the 100 that was getting dropped, and sure enough when they had all clambered out of the drop ship, there he was celebrating this new found freedom just like everyone around them. They spent most evenings together, but she couldn’t shake her mind about how much he’d changed, the sassy and sarcastic remarks where always there, but the violence and the bullying? But when they would find moments alone the old Murphy would slip out, only for her which gave her hope that in time, when they had settled in their new home he too would settle. When he would do something bad and she would have a go at him over it, he knew exactly how to charm her back into his favour, she could never be mad at him for very long. Or so she thought. 
And then she came close to loosing him, all thanks to a little girl who thought she could do whatever she wanted with little consequence, Beau wasn’t saying that she wanted Charlotte to hang, but that didn’t mean Murphy had to hang for something he was wrongly accused of, She had rushed to his squirming body, holding on for dear life to his legs which were kicking at anything they could. Once she had a firm bearhug grip on his thighs she tried lifting him up with all her might, trying to loosen the grip the rope had on his neck. Then Charlotte made her confession, Beau was so shocked that for a second she let Murphy go, not that it would have mattered because in that second Clarke had severed the rope and Beau managed to soften Murphy’s landing. She immediately removed the rope around his neck with the help of Finn, checking that Murph was breathing and there was no excessive damage to his throat, relived when she found only a single deep red line, she knew though that talking for a few days would be, if not painful then extremely uncomfortable.  
Murphy’s next actions however disgusted her, chanting for them to bring Charlotte out so that she could be hung. And while she was pissed at the obvious unbalance of the camp, no one should have been hung in the first place. When she went to Murphy to try calm him and make him see sense she got shoved back and told to stay out of it. Beau was devastated, she’d never seen this side of him, her hopes of being with him had been crushed yet again, he’s all that she’d thought about since the age of six, she knew that her and Murphy were meant to be together. But now she wondered if that was the case at all, what if all this time the love she felt for the boy in front of her had been one sided. When they all left camp on the hunt for Charlotte, Beau stayed behind. She went back to her and Murphy’s shared tent and tried to sleep, but it was useless.
A good few hours had passed when she heard them all come back into camp again, she shuffled out of bed and just poked her head out when Clarke passed by, she caught her arm and asked where Murphy was. Her heart sunk once more when Clarke informed her that Murphy had been banished on pain of death. No matter how mad she was at him, she was scared. Danger lurked everywhere out there without the protection of the walls and the people, not that the people had been any good at protecting Murphy so far. Still she didn’t know what to do, she wanted to go after him but he could of gotten anywhere by now and the darkness wouldn’t help her find him. 
She decided that once first light came she would search for him, and so she did, every single day she would finish up her chores and the take a walk in a different direction and look for Murphy. But every time she found nothing, not footprints, no discarded clothing, nothing. With everyday that passed that she found no sign of him her heart ached even more, even if this love she felt did happen to be one sided she was still a friend to him. And she would look for him till the ends of the earth if she had to. 
Her thoughts were interrupted when Harper came to sit next to her. “Thinking of Murphy again? I don’t see why you’re hung up on should a bad egg when there is plenty of charming men around her.” She said looking around but Beau knew she only had eyes for one person. 
Beau just rolled her eyes. “That bad egg is my childhood sweetheart, one I just can’t seem to let go go so easily. How’s things with Monty going?” She laughed as Harper snapped around to her quickly, nearly giving herself whiplash, her cheeks blazing hot.
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hodnesgon100 · 3 months
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the 100 phone theme #2
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- it’s def not as aesthetically pleasing as my last one but i wanted to add more character pictures this time so XD
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I didn’t even think I liked him like that until I saw this…
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ablueboombox-be · 9 months
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youtube
The 100 Grounders in Paris (opening contest /concours pour ouverture) aka a seasons recap
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justinewt · 1 year
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Love is Weakness - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Eighteen
[THE 100 MASTERLIST]  
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
Summary: The alliance almost borken upon a supposed attempt on the Grounders’ commander’s life, justice was served and the collaboration between the Grounders and the people from the Ark could now see the light of day. It was unsure how long this would last. Meanwhile, Michelle and Kane still struggled to nurture this new father-daughter bond, leading to some rough interactions despite Kane’s willingness to try and make efforts with her. But the war with Mount Weather was getting closer and this wasn’t to be the main thing she should be thinking about.
Words: 7k
Warnings: The 100 season 2 spoilers (end scene of episode 9 “Remember me”, episode 10 “ Survival of the Fittest”, episode 11 “Coup de Grace”), mention of ritual murder/mutilation, blood, heartbreak, loneliness, some sadness, hutting down, silent treatment (not abuse), relationship difficulties, bruises, conflict, lots of dialogues on the end
After Gustus' public killing, there was a heavy silence in the village and some Grounders still cast sideways glances at the people of the Ark, or as they called, they Sky People. Their two people weren’t so different in the end. They also used to sentence people to death back on the Ark. A few hours later, the sky got dark and while Clarke was still conversing with Lexa a little further from the fire that Michelle, Bellamy, Octavia, and Lincoln were sitting at, Raven was still trying to fix the radio, isolated in the tent behind them.
“How did you know it was Gustus?” Lincoln wondered, staring at the flames. Bellamy kind of shrugged.
“He’d do anything for her. To protect her.” He looked down. “It just makes sense.”
“Look at the thanks he got.” Octavia commented. A silence hung over them when Raven rushed out of the tent, calling out to them, the radio in her hands. They stood up, wondering what was going on.
“Listen to this.” Less than a second later they heard Jasper’s voice.
“Talk to him. Say something.” Clarke urged after she approached them, putting on hold her chat with the Grounders’ commander. Raven looked up at her.
“It’s repeating.”
“We need to do this now.” Bellamy then declared, referring to the plan he told Clarke about, the one involving him sneaking into Mount Weather. Clarke had refused to let him do this but now, it was getting urgent. “We’ve got the alliance, now’s the time to use it.”
“First, we need an inside man.” She was rather quick to voice her change of heart on that plan of his. “You were right. Without someone on the inside to lower their defenses… turn off the acid fog, an army is useless. You should go.”
“I thought you hated that plan.” So did Michelle. The latter was staring at her childhood best friend, finding that she was talking the same way as Lexa, composed and detached. The commander’s influence was definitely rubbing off on Clarke. “That I would get myself killed.”
“I was being weak. It’s worth the risk.” She then declared, earning her a look from Octavia. She was literally encouraging him, saying it was worth risking his life to save their friends when less than a couple days ago, she was completely against letting him put this plan in motion. Michelle hoped that change in her behavior wouldn’t cause a bigger drift to grow between them than after Clarke found out about her and Murphy. The blonde gave Bellamy her map of Mount Weather. “Find a way to get on that radio and talk to us. Good luck.”
“Bell, how are you—?” Octavia was understandably concerned about her brother. Lincoln cut her off, addressing the latter.
“I can get you through the tunnels.”
“You can’t go back there. Not yet.” As Octavia and Lincoln began talking together, Raven motioned for Bellamy to come with her to show him what to look for when he would be there and Michelle kind of looked around, stepping away to leave the two by the fire and ended up going in the village to find Clarke. When she saw her in the distance, Michelle quickened her pace, not taking her eyes off of her as she tried catching up with her. Abby came up to her daughter, handing a bottle to her and slowing down, dumbfounded to see her friend just walk away. Abby stared into space for an instant, looking up when Michelle arrived and stood by her side. Both of them were rather confused by Clarke’s behavior. They stared at her following Lexa inside a house and watched the door close, standing there in silence.
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Indra and her warriors had arrived at Camp Jaha, and this promised to be interesting. Lots of Grounders and people of the Ark were gathered in the room where the reception was being held and everyone was dead silent with serious faces. Leaning against a wall, next to where Murphy was sitting, Michelle had her arms crossed over her chest and she stared at the table in the middle of the room until she saw her father and Jaha appear and stop in front of Indra. The war chief was reluctant to approach, not necessarily happy to be here. Clearly, she hadn't come for the pleasure of seeing them, but on Lexa's orders and obviously, she couldn't say anything about it. Kane invited her to get closer and he proceeded to speak to the crowd. Michelle noticed Jaha quietly watching and listening in the background.
“I know we don’t have a lot in common. But we do have a common enemy… and a common goal. And for us to reach it, to get our people out of Mount Weather… we need to work together.” He turned to Indra, on his left. He then added a few worlds in their language and while he was doing so, a Grounder approached Murphy. The latter looked up and smirked for a second.
“You got a problem?” Michelle frowned a bit and Murphy, as insolent and arrogant as he was, smiled in amusement as the Grounder spoke to him in his language. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t speak Grounder.” Michelle barely had time to get up from the wall and uncross her arms that in the blink of an eye, Murphy's drink had been spilled and he got up suddenly and shoved the Grounder, now standing in front of him. This obviously had the effect of drawing the attention of everyone in the room to them. Murphy and the Grounder stared each other down.
“Mr Murphy. Apologize to that man.” Kane demanded.
“For what? He was the one who came to me.”
“Two days work detail.”
“Work detail?” He looked at Kane, gritting his teeth. “I just told you I didn’t—"
“Care to make it three?” The councilman cut him off, raising his voice. Michelle glared at her father, feeling that his decision to punish Murphy without even knowing what this altercation was about was unfair. She turned her head to John who smirked bitterly, shaking his head.
“You’re gonna burn just like your friend.” This one sentence got him to stop in his tracks as he was about to walk away and he turned around, throwing a punch at him. A hubbub arose in the room, voices buzzing in the confined space with Kane trying to get closer to the fight, telling Murphy to stop. Michelle was stuck behind the Grounder and could only clench her fists. The situation escalated so quickly that Sky people and Grounders started fighting each other all around the place. Michelle looked around in a haste and tried to get around the Grounder who had provoked it and reach Murphy. She turned around, barely dodging a punch to the head. In the heat of the moment, she stepped in between the two after the Grounder pushed Murphy, making him fall on his back, he grabbed her by the shoulders and thrusted her into the wall. She grunted as her back hit the wall and gritted her teeth, hearing her father still trying to put an end to this mayhem, now not only urging everyone to stop but also calling out Michelle's name after she got involved in the fight. As she thought, this was an interesting start.
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Hands clamped onto the edge of the bed, Michelle looked at her jacket and T-shirt placed on the back of a chair, leaving her with just her black  sport bra on. She tried keeping her back as straight as possible for Abby, who was standing right behind her and had been holding a cold pack on the bruise she got after the Grounder threw her against the wall. The fight had stopped not long after the incident and before Kane could reach them, Murphy was already helping her up, giving death stares to the Grounders around them but the young man had been sent away to start the two days work detail Kane had punished him with. Because of this, Michelle had refused his help to get to the infirmary and she walked by herself, awkwardly holding her shoulder, frowning. She was so done with how everyone always chose to blame John for everything. He wasn’t a saint but he was only ever reacting to provocations. It seemed like the heart-to-heart talk she had with Kane back at Tondc had been in vain because she was angry with him again.
“How does it feel when I do this?” She put her hand on her lower back and applied a little pressure. Michelle shrugged.
“It stopped hurting a while ago, Abby.”
“Well, you got really lucky with this one. You could have been paralyzed from the waist down.” The young woman knew this so she simply noded, silently and she felt Abby’s hands take the cold compress off her shoulder after it had been sitting there for over twenty minutes, and she turned her head to look in her back. For a moment after she took it off, it didn’t hurt at all but she guessed it wouldn’t take long before hurting again ; the cold only numbed it temporarily, on top of helping with the swelling. The bruise wasn’t right on her shoulder so she couldn’t exactly see it but she could see something red. She was in for another ride with this new bruise. Abby then applied a yellow cream which absorbed clear as she gently rubbed it in cirlces on the whole bruise. It had a strong scent to it. She then walked around the bed and went to sit in front of Michelle, on the chair that had her clothes on it and she took a look at the stitched cut on her hand. After accidentally reopening it when she tried to help her friends pull the rope back onto the cliff, the cut that ran across her palm had healed rather well. She was surprised to realize that when Abby proceede to cut the stitches and take them out, she barely felt a thing, just a little sensation of tugging but then, she touched around the scar.
“Is it… normal that it feels numb?” She hadn’t even realized she couldn’t feel anything when touching her palm.
“Nerves were probably damaged. It will take several months for them to regenerate but the numbness and loss of sensitivity in your hand might be permanent.”
“Great.” Michelle rolled her eyes, sighing. At least, she still had another hand, assuming nothing like that would happen to that one too. Once the cream on her bruise had dried a little, Michelle put her shirt back on. She was really collecting injuries. She stood up and went to grab her jacket while Abby put away the stuff she used to tend to her bruises and Kane entered in the infirmary.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine, thank you.” She barely made eye contact upon replying and just walked past him. Her tone of voice also clearly indicated she was upset. Michelle gritted her teeth as she put on her jacket because of the shot of pain it awoke in her back and went to look for Murphy, casually flipping her loose hair out from under the jacket. As she crossed the camp, she briefly glanced at her father exiting the tent in turn and walking to where the Grounders were training while she went the opposite direction and entered the station, looking for Murphy. She knew where to find him so that's where she was headed until she heard Jaha's voice from inside the room. She stopped in her tracks, standing in the hallway and listened. She could see Jaha standing in the door frame.
“I asked you a question.” Whatever it was the former chancellor asked, John’s silence got him to raise his voice.
“Who cares what I think?”
“I do. Or I wouldn’t have asked.” She took a few more steps when Jaha walked in the room, wondering what he wanted with Murphy.
“I think the Grounders can go to hell.” He retorted.
“I got you off work detail.” Michelle frowned at his statement; that wasn’t true.
“Why?”
“You knew my son.” There was a brief silence. Maybe was he going to Murphy because, the best friends of his late son hated him to the core. “And I’d like you to take me to his grave. Now that there’s a truce, it’s safe for me to go and say goodbye.”
“Well, you can get someone else to take you.”
“I’m told the graves are unmarked.” He insisted, trying to convince the young man to take him there. “You can show me which is his. You can hold the mop… or you can hold the gun.”
Michelle heard said mop fall to the floor and their footsteps approach so she stepped away and saw Jaha follow John in the hallway. She thought he would notice her but he had his eyes to the ground and turned his back to her, walking away with Jaha, without realizing she was just standing there. With Jaha taking him out of camp, knowing that he not only wanted to go see his son’s grave but also go to this city of light of his, it felt like a goodbye kind of stare. She mouthed their saying “May we meet again.”, like a whisper only she could hear as they disappeared, leaving her field of vision. The soft smile that dawned her face as she said goodbye quickly faded and turned into a sad pout, a few tears slowly blurring her vision. He most likely hadn’t realized it, but Jaha definitely wanted him to come to this utopic city he heard about in the desert, and either he would come back because he didn’t want to go or she wouldn’t see him again any time soon and knowing John Murphy, he would probably go rather than come back to this place where he was everyone favorite scapegoat. 
Her heart ached and her chest started to feel tight. She tried to muffle her sobs by holding her hand to her mouth and she went into the room Murphy and Jaha had just left and sat down behind a shelf, bringing her knees close to her chest. She had never experienced what is called a heartbreak and now, she felt like she was right in the eye of the storm. She wondered if he had developed as much feeling for her as she had for him and after a couple of minutes, she stared into space, wiping her tears. What came after love sucked. That was maybe why Clarke kind of shut off after Finn’s death. Lexa was always so pragmatic, showing little to no emotions and the blonde took a cue from her. It wasn’t the best solution to avoid things like what she was going through right now but she could give it a try. There wasn’t anyone she really cared about left anyway. Her mom was gone, Murphy had left and Clarke wasn’t even here.Some people considered love to be a strength, Lexa and Clarke seemed to believe the opposite. Michelle figured neither was right, or wrong, but for now she had made her choice.
“Love is weakness.” She mumbled, trying to convince herself of it as much as she could. Little did she think she would ever come to this conclusion but she didn’t know any better way to cope with what she was feeling, and protect her heart. The young woman then walked around in the station, looking for booze and once she had a bottle of an alcool she didn’t even care to know the name of, she came back in the room and looked out through the gaps in between the shutter's blades, drinking. She could see her father stand by the guards of the Ark, practicing shooting. A few Grounders came to watch and Kane then grabbed a gun, and shot before handing the gun to the Grounders, offering them a try but Indra rushed to her people. She didn’t seem like she wanted them to even touch the gun, like they were scared of them.
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Michelle woke, sat up and looked around. The room was plunged in the dark and she could hear someone yelling in the language of the Grounders outside and the bottle lay near the wall, a smattering of liquor still inside but a lot had spilled onto the floor and the rest she had drunk a few hours before. A migraine gripped her as she emerged from her slumber, as if a vice were pressing against her skull. She closed her eyes, letting herself fall back and lie down on the floor, staring at the ceiling in this silence only disturbed by what she came to realize was Indra, shouting. She had no idea what was going on and why she was speaking to her people so loudly but she didn’t care in the least so she just stayed there, her hands on her stomach, sighing, wincing because of the migraine that plagued her. A few minutes later, she finally stood up and put a towel to absorb the alcohol on the floor and grabbed the bottle before leaving the room. Whatever was happening outside, everyone was so busy no one noticed her walk out of the station and walk around it. As if it were a good idea, she drank a final sip and ditched the bottle in the mud. The drizzle falling on her head was quite refreshing even though probably somewhat radioactive, but she leaned against the wall, letting the drops run down her face. Love really was weakness. She found it absolutely stupid and pathetic to be so miserable because she felt lonely and sad. It was probably not the best idea to be so harsh with herself but it made her wonder if people really cared about her or needed her, or if it was solely the opposite. And if it was, it wasn’t good either. Her mom raised her to be quick-witted and smart, and most of all, strong, not so needy. She had to do better than to rely on other people and expect so much of them.
Michelle sighed, looking at the shining stars contrasting against the dark night sky. When she went to the front of the station, where everyone was, she saw her father in the distance and stared at him and he stared back at her, until Abby came to find her and the young woman turned to her. She had seen his gaze change when he looked at her. He was most likely not regretting punishing Murphy just because it was actually unfair, but probably because of the reaction it got from his estranged daughter. He was feeling bad that she was angry with him and that was the exact reason why she was giving him the silent treatment. She didn’t want to have any sort of father-daughter relationship with him if he was going to act like the douchebag he was back on the Ark. That man she knew; well, she hated his guts.
“Where were you?” Abby wondered.
“What? Cause Clarke isn’t there, you care so much about me?” She looked away, embarrassed about having reacted so aggressively and bit her lower lip.
“Michelle do not be like this with me. I do care about you, regardless of Clarke being there or not. But right now, I can focus on you. All right, come on.” She sighed and put her hand on her shoulder, walking her to the infirmary. “So, where were you?”
“I was with John all afternoon.” She lied, Jaha led him out of camp before she could join him in that room he was cleaning, but it didn’t matter. They traversed the infirmary and walked past a silent Octavia sitting on a bed. The latter looked up at them for a second and went back to her thinking while Michelle sat down on a bed further away, behind a drawn curtain and took off her jacket and T-shirt. They followed the same routine than earlier the same day, a cold pack for about twenty minutes and then, she applied some cream all over the bruise and waited a bit longer for it to dry enough for her to put her shirt back on, all this in dead silence. Abby must have been wondering why Michelle was suddenly acting like Clarke, just shutting out all emotions from her face. She didn’t need emotions to be in the way right now. Once Abby was over with this, Michelle walked out of the infirmary. People were gathered in silence around a large piece of roasted meat on a rod above a fire. Michelle approached, watching Indra take a cut of it and walk around. It smelled and looked rather appetizing. After she walked closer, she saw Kane giving her a glance.
“Eat.” She addressed the quiet Sky people. “Get strong. Only then will we win this war.” Michelle was quite hungry, so she didn’t need to tell her twice. Kane then slowly stepped towards Indra and thanked her, taking the plate from her hand. As people took a slice of the meat in turn, Michelle followed, standing in line, watching Kane go talk to Octavia from the corner of her eyes. She didn’t exactly blame him for not knowing how to approach his own child, because the thing was she didn’t know how to navigate this new relationship either and her recent decision on shutting down was probably not going to help much. She wished her mom was here with her, it would definitely be easier for her. The only person she truly needed was her mom, and she was gone so she told herself there was no one else she needed as much. She shrugged these upsetting thoughts away and took her share of meat and went to sit alone on a log a little further, staring at her plate. As she went to take the last bite, she saw a tall figure approach, recognizing Kane’s clothes.
“Can I?” He glanced at the free log next to her and she just looked up at him without moving her head and shrugged, finishing her meal.
“You can do whatever you want Councilor.” He silently sat down, leaning on his laps, hands joined. It was clear for a few seconds, that he didn’t really know how to start the conversation and with Michelle just staring at her, it probably didn’t make it easier. She kind of regretted being so hostile in the way she responded but she wasn’t having the best day. She mumbled some apologies for her reaction. He was making an effort and she had to meet him in the middle. That’s what she thought both Abby and her mom would tell her anyway.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Did Abby tell you to say that?” She wondered, scoffing. “If I’m upset, just imagine how Murphy feels? Being blamed 24//7.”
“I had to defuse the situation.”
“Oh yeah and you've been so successful in doing just that. This Grounder came in his face and threatened him, but yeah, sure. You had to defuse the situation by putting all the blame on him.” Michelle shook her head in disbelief and stood up. This conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere but she was getting riled up. It was just unfair. She couldn’t understand why she seemed to be the only one to care about this detail.
“Michelle.” She ignored him and walked a little further to put the plate away, but he kept trying to call out to her, not wanting to leave the discussion to end so badly. She rolled her eyes and turned towards him, obviously annoyed at this point.
“I want my mom back. Not you. I don’t need you.” Her voice was getting a bit shaky, and she pressed her index finger on his chest and sighed in frustration before walking away. Wherever this relationship would go, it was starting off on the wrong foot and none of them really knew how to handle it, despite Abby trying to act as a mediator.
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There was a stark contrast between the nice weather and bright sun in the clear sky and the furmoil going on in Camp Jaha since Clarke and Abby, along with Grounders, returned from Tondc. Men were shouting indistinctly, pushing stretchers down the station’s hallways. On those stretchers were two men, one was a Grounder whom Michelle didn’t recognized, and the other was wearing an hazmat suits, their faces covered in blood. Michelle didn’t really know who the injured men were but she didn’t ask questions and followed Clarke, jogging alongside, right behind her friend. She came with her to assist her with anything she might need help with.
“Jackson, we’ve got two patients.” Clarke informed. “You get the radiation burns; I’ve got the gunshot wound.” They set the man down. Not far from them, Abby was already tending to the other wounded, her hands soaked in blood as she pressed on a wound to contain the bleeding. “This guy’s from Mount Weather. We’ll need to keep him alive.” Jackson looked at his face through the mask with a small lamp. “There was a tear in his suit, but we fixed it in the field.” Raven turned up. “Anything from Bellamy?”
“No.”
“Then why aren’t you with the radio?” She enquired, staring at her. Raven frowned.
“Octavia just took my place. How about you back off?” Clarke ignored her, focused again on taking care of the man from Mount Weather. She looked at Jackson when he was about to take the mask off of his face.
“No. Leave it on. It’s the only thing keeping him alive.”
“How can we treat him if we can’t touch him?”
“I can rig up some scrubbers in the air lock.” Raven figured. “Give me 20 minutes.”
“Damn it.” Abby’s swearing caught their attention while Raven left the area. She was losing him. Jackson ran back to her side to help her. Behind her, Indra was silently watching her. Abby bent over, grabbing the man’s face, telling him to keep fighting but his eyes soon went blank and she straightened up, defeated. Clarke and Michelle looked at them, standing by the Mountain man. Indra walked around the stretcher, with a small knife in her hand and cut one of his braid, pronouncing a few words in their language. The very same words pronounced at the funerals in Tondc. Her head had been so busy lately, she hadn't caught much of their language. She recognized some things she had heard many times but couldn't quite make out the words. Indra turned to Clarke, slowly stepping towards her. The two women stared at each other, and Michelle’s glance was switching from the War Chief to her best friend.
“A killer lives while a warrior dies? This is your way?”
“I’m sorry, Indra. But he can help us beat Mount Weather.”
“Then let me make him talk.”
“No.” Clarke softly shook her head. “We’re not torturing him.”
“Clarke’s right.” Abby joined them, supporting her daughter’s decision. “He might just talk because we saved his life.”
“You people are so weak.” Indra hissed through gritted teeth as she walked away. Clarke sighed, looking down at the man on the stretcher. Michelle and Abby glanced at each other as the latter walked to Clarke.
“Are you okay?” She asked her tenderly but the only response she got was a sidelong glance and a quick change of subject.
“He’s gonna need a transfusion with our blood.” She addressed Jackson.
“I’ll type him as soon as we can take off that suit.” Clarke nodded, turning around and found herself facing her mother. Michelle could tell she clearly didn’t want to talk to her. She remembered how she had ignored her when they were in Tondc and she had just noticed changes in her behavior; the influence from Lexa. Michelle kind of stepped away but could still hear their conversation, which was definetely going to be short.
“Someone tried to kill you today.” Abby said. “It’s okay if you’re upset.”
“Just another day on the ground.” She shrugged. “I’ll be Engineering waiting for Bellamy to radio. Let me know when he wakes up.” She then left the infirmary, leaving her mother standing there, stunned. Michelle looked at her staring into space and followed Clarke outside. She had to come to terms with how her childhood friend had changed since she became close with the commander of the Grounder but apparently Abby was still trying to figure it out. It wasn’t that Michelle had accepted it, she didn’t like it at all but nothing would happen by insisting on trying to get her to open up. The way she now interacted with her mother was similar to her difficult relationship with her own dad. She could now see the parallel.
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The Mountain man was back on his feet, now sitting in the air lock, staring at Kane who was standing right in front of it, arms crossed. Abby was leaning against the wall, a few feet away from the airlock and behind her, Clarke and Michelle were looking at photographs on a crates, photographs of her and Lexa with red circles drawn around their faces. They were in Mount Weather’s crosshairs.
“Please answer the question.” Kane insisted.
“Carl Emerson. Mount Weather Security Detail.” He then said.
“You already said.” He let his head briefly fall forward in annoyance. He was losing his patience with this man. “You don’t seem to be grasping the situation here. You should have died in the woods. We saved your life.” Emerson nodded, shooting up his eyebrows. “Why not help us bring an end to all this?”
“Carl Emerson. Mount Weather Security Detail.”
“He’s not gonna talk.” Clarke declared, pictures in her hands.
“He will if we open the door.” Kane then said, staring at Emerson. Michelle sighed silently. If they were about to threaten to hurt him, they should have let Indra handle this. It would have been much quicker. She kept herself from speaking her mind this time around. Abby uncrossed her arms walking up to the mic button by the side of the airlock and disabled it so they couldn’t be heard from inside.
“We are not doing that.” Kane followed her as she walked away.
“We need to know what he knows. Vulnerabilities. Troop numbers.” Michelle was watching the two of them when she saw Clarke grab something from the corner of her eyes. She looked at the tube she held in her hands.
“She’s right.” Clarke spoke. “Torture doesn’t work.”
“It could save your friends.”
“I’m the Chancellor.” Abby turned around, pointing her finger at him.
“Then act like one!” He shouted. “I told you I would support you as long as I believe you were doing the right thing.
“I am. And if you disagree… conven a vote and take my place.” She argued.
“I don’t give a damn about the title.” He retorted, angry and frustrated by the lack of action. “I just want to save our people.”
“So do I.” Michelle watched her father walk away. “I want this man under 24-hour guard. Is that clear?” The guard standing by nodded and Abby glanced at Clarke and Michelle before leaving in turn. Clarke looked at Emerson, shaking her head. He was just looking back at them like he didn’t care about anything that was happening. He certainly didn’t have any compassion for their people and like most of his, probably wanted them all dead and gone.
“Torture maybe doesn’t work but we should have let Indra take care of this. He wouldn’t have this smug look on his face.” Michelle finally let out and Clarke took a peep at her, looking anxious. They then left as well and Michelle accompanied Clarke to see Raven, who was still with the radio, awaiting any updates from their inside man, hoping that Bellamy was all right. Clarke gave her the sort of tube she had picked up near the pictures and gave it to her. Raven observed it carefully, pressing on the top, causing it to glow blue and emit a sound for a moment. Clarke walked back and forth; arms crossed with Michelle standing just behind her.
“Yeah, I can totally replicate this frequency.”
“Good. If we can neutralize the Reapers, the tunnels are an option. Get on it.”
“You don’t need to give me orders. I got this.” She retorted.
“Raven. Any word from Bellamy?” Octavia came running.
“Nothing yet.” She replied in a low voice.
“Lincoln’s still missing too. He should be back by now.” She was worried, and it was understandable given the situation. Clarke grabbed her arm, looking in her eyes.
“They’ll be okay.”
“They better be. Your whole plan rests on Bellamy getting in.”
“He will.” Clarke looked at Raven, raising her voice. A man’s voice spoke on PA, calling to Kane and Clarke. They had to go to the south air lock. Michelle hadn’t been called but Clarke motioned for her to come along, telling Raven they would finish this later. The two young women met Kane in the hallway, and they walked in silence to their destination. Abby was already there, standing in front of the air lock.
“Did he say something?” Kane asked.
“No.” Abby said, looking at him. “But his blood did. Jackson found genetic marker anomalies that can only come from someone who was born on The Ark.”
“It’s started.” Clarke spoke. She knew something they didn’t, and they all glanced at her.
“It didn’t come from the blood transfusion?” Kane wondered, trying to understand.    
“No. I took the sample before that.”
“They’re bleeding our friends.” Clarke declared. Michelle looked into space, frowning. They didn’t want them all dead, if that was the case, they wanted to them, maybe thinking it could get them to the surface without suffering radiation burns.
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do.” She looked at Kane, insisting. “We were genetically engineered. They weren’t.”
“What are you doing?” He put his arm in her way when she took a step forward.
“Killing him.” He grabbed her arms to prevent her from going near the air lock to open the doors. She struggled. “Get out of my way, Kane.”
“Clarke.” The latter sighed heavily in frustration, looking at her mother. Michelle crossed her arms, disagreeing with the way they kept her from killing Emerson. “You’re not in charge here. We do things my way.”
Clarke gave them each a death stare and stormed off. Michelle barely looked at them, as equally angry as her and she walked away, following her friend back to where Raven was. Neither of them liked the decisions made by the adults in charge. Raven was actively working on the radio when Clarke and Michelle arrived. The recording of Jasper was still playing on repeat.
“We’re too late.” Clarke declared as she stepped in the room, Michelle right behind her. “They’re already bleeding them. It’s over…”
“No.” Raven jumped off her seat. “You don’t get to give up, Clarke. You killed Finn, and I didn’t give up. I’m building a damn tone generator, you do your job.”
“What is my job?” She yelled.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “To come up with something. Why don’t you figure that out with—” She pointed at Michelle when Clarke cut her off.
“I have tried.” Their little screaming contest was cut short when Bellamy’s voice rose from the radio, calling out to them, trying to get in contact. Clarke and Michelle froze for a second when they heard it before joining their peer next to the radio. Raven handed the walkie-talking connected to it to Clarke. “Bellamy?”
“Clarke?” On their end, the three of them let out a relieved sigh. He managed to get in. This wasn’t over in the end. Clarke gathered her thoughts.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But that’s it for the good news.” Their smiles faded instantly. While Clarke talked, Raven and Michelle anxiously looked at her and listened. “We have to talk fast. Something has changed. Jasper, Monty, everyone is locked in the dorm.”
“But they’re alive? All of them?”
“I think so. For now. Maya says they’re already using their blood. Things are gonna get ugly in her real fast.”
“Maya’s with you?”
“She helped me escape. If not for her, I’d be dead.” There was a brief silence, but he eventually continued. “And Clarke, there are kids in here. We need a plan that doesn’t kill everyone. Please tell me you have one.”
“I hear you. But we can’t do anything until you disable the acid fog. Raven’s gonna help you.”
“Got it. What else?” He enquired.
“You have to figure out a way to free the Grounder prisoners. There is a whole army inside that mountain and they don’t even realize it.”
“A Trojan horse. Good plan.”
“What does Maya think? Is it doable?”
“She says it’s not a problem.” Clarke let out a chukle, knowing she probably didn’t say this word for word.
“Clarke, if I’m gonna pull this off, I need you to buy me some time. It won’t be long before they realize I don’t belong here. If that happens—”
“That can’t happen.” She declared. “I’ll come up with something.”
“Come up with it quick.” He urged.
“Copy that. And Bellamy?”
“Yeah?”
“You came through. I knew you would.”
“All I’ve done so far is not get killed.”
“Keep doing that. You’re up.” She gave the transmitter back to Raven and walked to the door with Michelle.
“What are you gonna do?” Clarke turned around.
“Keep on looking outside instead of in.” They then left. Michelle could already tell they wouldn’t have much rest in the near future. She was lucky her bruises didn’t hurt anymore, unless touching it directly. She would be able to focus on the upcoming fight. Siding with Clarke in this meant siding against the elected chancellor, Abby, and Kane. Both daughters had strained relationship with their parents at the moment, but this wasn’t the time to care about all this. There was more important matters to see to, like saving their friends before they were wiped out by the Mountain men who were actively bleeding them. With Clarke at the head of the march, Octavia, Indra and Michelle right behind her along with a few other Grounders, they walked with a determined step towards the south air lock of the station, to get Emerson. The guard standing there was about to try and stop them when Clarke advised him not to and he let them pass.
“Get dressed.” Clarke ordered Emerson. “You’re coming with me.” Once he put his hazmat suit back on, the Grounders dragged him out of the air lock. As they stepped outside, Michelle looked at the night sky and then over her shoulder. Emerson was being brought outside, with Octavia and Indra right behind. They walked to the gate but Kane and Abby came to stop them.
“I’m letting the prisoner go.”
“Absolutely not.” Abby frowned.
“He hasn’t told us anything yet.” When Kane’s gaze landed on Michelle's face, she simply held his gaze before turning her head to Clarke.
“He doesn’t have to. He’s gonna tell them something.”
“Get the prisoner back to the air lock. Now.” Abby ordered the Ark Guards behind her. They complied but Grounders came in their faces, blocking the way. Abby and Kane looked at Michelle and Clarke in confusion.
“You may be the Chancellor, but I’m in charge.” Clarke declared confidently. Michelle crossed her arms.
“Indra, tell your people to stand down… before this gets out of hand.”
“No.”
“People could get hurt.” She insisted.
“Not if you get out of our way.” Michelle spoke.
“You need to trust that I know what’s right for us.” Clarke pursued. Kane took a step forward, addressing Abby.
“The Grounders trust Clarke.” Michelle softly nodded as they looked at each other. He was maybe going to side with them after all. He then glanced at Clarke. “Maybe we should too.” After a second of silence, Abby told her men to stand down and without another word between them, Clarke and Michelle started walking to the gate again. The gate was opened for them.
“Can you hear me all right? Because I need to make sur you get this.” She addressed Emerson as the two Grounders holding his arms positioned him in front of her.
“Loud and clear.”
“I have a message for your leader. We’re coming for him.” She made her tone of voice more threatening. “You’re watching us, but you haven’t seen a thing. The Grounder army is bigger than you think. And even if you could find it, your acid fog can’t hurt them. And now thanks to you…” She held up the device to control the Reapers, activating it briefly. "Neither can the Reapers. So you have one last chance. Let our people go, and we’ll let you live. It’s just that simple.”
“I got it.” He nodded. She grabbed the transfill hose attached to his oxygen tank.
“That’s an eight-hour walk back to Mount Weather?” She clicked on it, letting out two hours worth of oxygen. “You’re gonna do it in six.”
“Six hours. That’s not enough. How am I supposed to deliver your message?”
“That’s your problem.” She replied with a smirk. He left running.
“Clarke.” She turned to Octavia. “Do you wanna explain to me how this helps my brother?”
“I just told them we have a secret army to worry about. The more they’re looking at us, the less they’re looking at him. Bellamy is the key to everything, Octavia. If he dies, we die.”
Michelle left with Clarke, heading back to the station. She glanced at Kane as they walked past him and Abby before looking ahead of her. She would worry about their relationship later, a war was brewing.
[To be continued…]  
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 
Published (11/25/2022) by Andrea
Taglist: @cathrin2405​ @kika64
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linusbenjamin · 9 months
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Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. For this he was chained to a rock and tortured for eternity. Oppenheimer (2023) dir. Christopher Nolan
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wife-of-all-dilfs · 8 months
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pretty fixation, wicked temptation | b. blake
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masterlist
summary: season six - one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep made both you and bellamy crave each other’s touch, but you need a place to satisfy your urges without disruption. perhaps a new planet would do the trick. and what better way to heighten the anticipation than with a little challenge?
warnings: porn with plot, sexual crying??, teasing/taunting, mild gore, mild exhibitionism, murphy being a cockblock, mild size kink, mild bdsm, begging
note: this is the first one-shot/smut I’ve ever written so I kinda went overboard, but I promise it’s worth it in the end. you can imagine a different season of bellamy if you want (fuck you) but I personally think he’s extremely hot in season 6.
word count: 16.7k
“…I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been,” an aged Monty spoke on the monitor. “Be the good guys. May we meet again.”
You stared out the window of Eligius IV in awe, arms crossed over your chest whilst taking in the view of the planet you would soon call home. Plant Alpha. A place where, hopefully, everyone could find redemption. For you, it would be a place where you would find peace with your friends and family. And your boyfriend, Bellamy Blake.
“I know this is a lot to process,” Bellamy’s deep voice spoke to the group. “Take an hour, and then meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”
A few people in the room had a short dispute, but you tuned out their bickering, gaze locked on the view outside. Everyone began to disperse, leaving the room to gather their thoughts about what the future held for the last remnants of humanity. Everyone but you and Bellamy.
Your vision shifted from focusing on Planet Alpha to watching Bellamy walk towards you in the window’s reflection. He had changed drastically since the day you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to the ground. His body was broader, and more muscular due to the unrelenting battles he fought on Earth. His arms were bigger, stronger, and probably capable of carrying the weight of two people at once. And his hands, god, his hands—they were your ultimate weakness. They were much bigger compared to your own; his fingers were thicker and longer as well, and the things he could do with them… indescribable.
He now had a short, dark beard that circled his mouth and sparsely covered the sides of his jaw. You always loved the way it tickled your face whenever he kissed you and when it rubbed against your inner thighs whilst he went down on you.
What had changed the most was his mentality, which somehow made you fall even deeper in love with him. Bellamy Blake may have been twenty-three when you first met him, but he was then still just a boy. Now, he was a man.
“You okay?” he asked, his arm snaking around your waist as his towering frame stood beside you.
Leaning into his body, you both soaked in the rays of the two suns shining through the ship’s window.
“Just hoping we don’t make the same mistakes we did back on Earth,” you spoke. “There are a lot of people on this ship in need of a second chance.”
Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. More like a fifth chance.”
You smiled, humming in agreement.
“This time will be different,” he continued, eyes narrowed at the planet in front of them. “We can’t keep making the same mistakes without learning from them. We won’t have bombs, or missiles, or war. I’ll make sure of it; if not for the last of humanity, then for you.”
You turned your head to look at him. Such a softie.
“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You reached one of your crossed arms across your torso and rested it on his which was cupping your waist.
In response, Bellamy’s hold tightened just a little bit more, causing your heart to fumble from the affectionate gesture. “On a few occasions.”
However short the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep felt to your mind, your body could feel the effects of lacking physical touch for such a long time. Bellamy’s touch. Apparently, he felt the exact same way.
“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in over a century.” His voice became soft. He turned your body to face him with his back now facing the window. Dark brown eyes gazed down at you with an intensity only he could create, sending a sudden desire to let him absolutely ravage you right where you stood. His free hand reached up to your face and gently stroked the side of your cheek, the other now caressing the exposed skin of your waist. “Or touched you.”
Closing your eyes, you focused on the areas in which his skin connected with yours. Having been in a relationship with him for a few years, his touch became a familiar sensation. Despite that, on a purely physical level, your body had forgotten the pleasure-filled heights to which he could take you. Everything seemed new again, like the very first time he touched you.
And no matter the fact that time in cryosleep seemed like it passed instantaneously, neither of you could deny the obvious pining your bodies felt for one another.
You stepped closer, hands moving to rest on his chest. The distance between your bodies closed and you whispered, “Or felt me.”
His hands stilled, realising what you had meant. He leaned backwards, enough to get a good view of the look in your eyes. It was something deep and hungry for release. Sure, you’ve both had sex plenty of times; you’ve fucked rough and fast, made love sweet and slow—however many other variations there were, you’d done it—but Bellamy had never seen your desire for him appear as powerful as this.
Your eyes were swirling with a dark passion, like rolling waves in desperate need of a crest. Your cheeks were flushed, pupils so dilated your irises were almost obscured, and lips reddened and becoming plump even despite having made no contact with his own yet. It was no doubt a mirror of what you were feeling inside.
He took in a long deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, trying to steady his heartbeat which was raging out of control. You looked so beautiful. All the blood in his body drained to the lower half of him, leaving him light-headed and fuzzy, lust being the only thing to fill the contents of his mind. Bellamy could never stop lusting after you, he had just learned to control it. A one-hundred-year wait seemed like a perfectly acceptable reason to let loose a little.
“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips came crashing down onto yours.
It didn’t start slow, but rather fast and desperate. So desperate. Even so, your mouth moved in sync with his, alternating between sucking in quick breaths of air, kissing his soft yet rough lips, and allowing him to run his tongue over your own. Your hands moved up into his pushed-back hair, fingers delving between his brown waves to give a small tug, pulling a groan from inside him that buzzed against your lips.
He pulled you closer to his body with strong arms wrapped around your back, the sensitivity between your thighs coming into contact with his hardness. The material of your pants rubbing against you only enhanced the shiver-inducing sensation.
You reigned your focus back onto his lips. His mouth was hot against yours, unrelenting, catching your lips with his between each frantic breath of air. His tongue rolled over your own, so intricate and possessive as it pushed into your mouth.
Before you knew it, his hands had moved to the backs of your thighs and lifted you into his arms; your lips never disconnected. This was a movement you had both performed many times, so it wasn’t done without skill. He took a few steps forward before placing you on the control bench behind you. You hoped there were no important buttons beneath you that would cause End of Humanity 4.0.
His mouth moved from yours and down to your jaw, cupping his hand on the side of your neck to keep your head steady. You couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a sigh that escaped you. Maybe it was a mix of both, but whatever it was, it egged him on further. He had moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft, delicate skin. This time you were sure it was a moan you let out.
He curled his hand around your neck just below your jaw, careful not to apply too much pressure, but just enough to remain in control. He loved to be in control; he also knew how much you enjoyed it too. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him, how he could dominate you without an ounce of effort.
Your legs and his were in between one another like two puzzle pieces fit together, his knee between your thighs and pressing against your clit without him even realising it. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you pushed yourself further onto his knee, beginning to grind yourself against him as he continued to press kisses to your neck.
“Eager, huh?” his voice vibrated against your skin.
Now he knew.
Having realised what you were doing, he pushed further onto you, heightening the pressure as you rolled your hips against him. Your head fell back. It had been so long since your body had experienced such pleasure; you knew it wouldn’t take much to reach climax. Not that it mattered. It always took you both a few rounds before you were too exhausted to move anymore. Sometimes, even fatigue couldn’t stop you two.
After deciding enough damage was done to your neck, he returned to your mouth, this time slower and more sensual.
You could have easily come undone the way you were going, grinding yourself against him but knew it would be nothing compared to the release given by his hands. Greedy as you were, you wanted—needed—more, and you knew he would never deny such a request. Your satisfaction was his own after all.
“Bellamy,” you breathed against his lips. “Touch me.”
His forehead came to rest against your own, he too breathless from the heat of the situation.
“Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, princess,” he spoke lowly with a smirk.
“Who said I was?”
“Well, technically, we have a whole world watching us.”
You rolled your eyes, a playful grin stretching across your lips only to be intersected by a short gasp as you felt his hand slip through the waistband of your pants and press against your clit.
The second you felt his fingers apply pressure and begin to move, the door to the room burst open.
“Hey, you guys need… Jesus Christ!”
Bellamy’s hand left you quicker than it came, or quicker than you came to be more exact. The both of you jumped up from your positions and turned to see Murphy standing at the door, eyes squeezed shut.
“You ever heard of knocking, Murphy,” Bellamy grumbled.
“It’s the fucking comms room!” he complained. “Just–we need you guys out in the mess hall. Now. Oh my god.”
He made quick work of leaving the room, mumbling something about rather having a missile dropped on him than ever having to witness that again.
You looked at Bellamy who seemed to share the same flustered state as you.
He blew out a stabilising breath and placed a hand behind your back. “Come on, we should see what they want.”
Still slightly trembling, you nodded, allowing him to guide the both of you out of the room as you attempted to fix your dishevelled hair. After walking together down a few hallways in tense silence, you both reached the mess hall to see the group sitting around a table, discussing something quietly among themselves. Among them was Murphy, who overdramatically shuddered at the sight of you two.
Before you could walk over, Bellamy grabbed your upper arm, leaning down until his hair brushed against your temple and he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”
He slid past you and walked towards everyone else, acting casual as they all burst into conversation. A minute or two passed until you had regained enough composure to join the group.
**********
It had been about two hours since the incident in the comms room. A plan had been set in place regarding their journey to the ground. One minute, you were safe and sound on Eligius IV, and the next, you and a small group were descending into the atmosphere of Planet Alpha in a ship.
There was a giant, wall-length window on the front of the ship that revealed the outside surroundings once you dipped below the clouds. This world was… otherworldly. Literally. The largest sun bathed the world in a constant orange glow, and the surface was covered in an abundance of vibrant green trees that sat atop various hills and rocky snow-covered mountains. All the clouds were a light orange; the sky was more pink and orange than blue. It was like they had entered a landscape painting depicting heaven.
Everyone seemed to share the same look of astonishment.
Shaw turned in his seat to face everyone. “Boys and girls, meet Planet Alpha.”
With a shudder, the ship finally planted itself on the ground, the machine hum cutting off as the rockets stopped firing. Belt buckles clicked as everybody stood from their seats, moving in front of the door, awaiting its opening. You looked beside you to see Bellamy with that same tiny grin he had the first time they opened the dropship doors. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Technically, it was well over a lifetime ago.
He pulled down the lever and the door began to fall open. A gust of breathable fresh air wafted in your face and you inhaled deeply. It was sweet and unpolluted. Everyone remained still as they took in the incredible scenery. There were no words to describe it.
“Anyone got anything better than ‘we’re back bitches’?” Miller jested.
“Yeah,” you spoke. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.”
There were a few chuckles, a few sentimental words exchanged, along with a few heated words spoken between Shaw and Clarke. Some people were still upset over her betrayal back on Earth. What they were yet to realise was that this was not Earth, this was someplace new, a place for second chances and new beginnings.
They were supposed to be looking for a beacon that depicted a safe place for them to take up residence. Shaw, along with his tracking device, began heading in the beacon’s direction and soon enough everyone else followed suit.
You took a few moments for yourself to take in the surroundings and silently thank Monty and Harper for their sacrifice. A bittersweet smile sat on your lips and a single tear slipped down your cheek. A Garden of Eden this was, and they’d be damned if they let another serpent in.
Without even realising it, Bellamy had stood beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.
“We’ll do better this time,” he reassured as if he could read your mind.
You turned your head and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder.
His eyes crinkled as a soft smile grew on his lips. “Come on, let's catch up to the others.”
And so, you did.
Following Bellamy until you caught up with the rest of the group, you began the journey to the beacon, trekking through the new and undisturbed forest. Though it was beautiful, you still had a lingering fear of what might lurking in the thick clusters of trees. Maybe there were Grounders here too. At least they were human beings with actual consciences. This was an entirely new planet in an entirely new solar system so there could be animals or beings they had never encountered before.
All you could do was pray you weren’t on the bottom of the food chain.
An hour or two passed before the forest began to thin out and give way to a lake of pristine blue water surrounded by overlooking mountains.
“Looks like we found a water source,” Bellamy spoke as they stepped onto the tan sand. “We’ll camp here tonight and continue on at first light.”
They were confronted wave after wave with the planet’s beauty without end. It almost seemed too perfect. As everyone was distracted by the new view, Murphy began walking towards the water, removing a piece of clothing with each step, completely disregarding the fact that he had healing bullet holes on his body.
You stepped forward to stop him just as the others did. “Murphy, wait, your­–”
He glanced back at you, cutting your sentence off. “Comms room!”
That shut you up, as well as causing your face to redden intensely.
Clarke stepped beside you, watching as Murphy took off his shirt and stepped into the water, diving beneath the surface. “What was that about?”
“Uh, nothing.” You side-eyed Bellamy who was shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.
Soon enough, Murphy had resurfaced, his wounds bleeding and turning the water around him a faint rust colour. Not that he cared.
“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he shouted.
Emori was next to enter the water, though not entirely at her own will. It was nice to see her and Murphy enjoying themselves, but who said they could have all the fun?
Without a second thought, you unclipped your backpack and dropped it to the ground, tying your hair into a low bun with the band on your wrist. You lifted your long-sleeve shirt over your head, leaving you only in your low-cut tank top. You had thought it would have been Bellamy who was first to notice, except it was Clarke whose eyes were now trained on your chest.
Brows raised, you motioned to your eyes with two fingers. “Eyes up here, Clarke.”
She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology, focusing back on Emori and Murphy.
You walked over to Bellamy, standing beside him as he watched the scene in front of him. His attention quickly shifted to you as your hip brushed against his hand.
“What d’you say, Blake?” You unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out. “Up for a swim?”
His lips parted as he stared down at your half-naked figure. Before he had a chance to answer, you were making your way down to the water with a tantalising grin. You were nothing if not a tease and he knew that firsthand. A little extra sway in your hips was all it took for him to start removing his own backpack and undressing his upper body.
The water had reached up to your hips before a pair of hands abruptly grabbed onto your waist. A short shriek escaped your throat before you were tackled beneath the water. Resurfacing, you wiped the water from your eyes, coming face-to-face with an amused Bellamy.
“Asshole!” You attempted to push his chest, but he didn’t budge, instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist again and began dragging you both further out.
“So easily riled up,” he teased with a smirk.
Sighing defeatedly, you leaned into his grasp, allowing him to keep you both afloat. Bellamy could just touch the lake floor, so you knew if he let you go, you would be drowning. Swimming wasn’t exactly anyone’s strong suit, so you just hoped you hadn’t done anything previously to piss him off.
Your legs curled around his torso. At first, the action was innocent, but then you realised that the little performance you made on the beach had consequences. Hard consequences that he seemed to be very aware of. Eyes blown wide with surprise, you squeezed your legs around his hips, grounding yourself onto him.
He grunted softly, tightening his hold on you. “You do that again and I won’t care if everyone is watching.”
The deep sense of possession enveloped in his voice sent warm tingles running down your spine, replacing the coldness of the water surrounding your body. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t lying either, especially given both of your rising desires for each other. For a split second, you were ready to test the legitimacy of his threat, but rationality was quick to jump in.
As you loosened your hold around him, you were unsure whether the look he gave you was of praise or displeasure. If you couldn’t do that, then you would at least take advantage of the opportunity for another type of intimacy.
Placing a hand on either side of his jaw, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his which he was quick to reciprocate. Droplets of fresh water dripped from the wet strands across his forehead, mixing between your skin and his, and alleviating the heat of each other’s desire.
His hands ran up and down your back underneath your saturated tank top, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Over and over, you kissed him and then you’d take a split second to get some air. It quickly became a pattern yet each time your lips met became more and more exhilarating.
The moment was rapidly becoming more fervent with each passing second. Soon enough, you were clinging onto each other, the water rippling from your bodies moving ever-so-slightly against one another to create some kind of friction. You could hear Bellamy’s breathing become quick and uneven, just like your own. You could feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip as if to knock before entering. And just before you could let him in, you were pulled apart…
“Hey. Hey! None of that shit,” Murphy demanded from a distance.
Bellamy pulled away first, visibly frustrated as he turned his head to your interrupter.
You simply pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned, one hand still holding onto his shoulder.
“Shut up, Murphy!” you and Bellamy shouted in unison.
Even Emori was quick to come to your aid. “Come on, John, they were just kissing.”
“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen,” you heard him murmur to her.
**********
The sky was blanketed in darkness long after the two suns dipped below the horizon. Insects were chirping, a small fire was crackling in the centre of the group, and tiny waves were cresting on the shore. You were leaning against a log of driftwood, legs extended in front of you as you gazed at the giant, ringed planet in the sky, its purple and pink hue reflecting on the lake’s surface.
Peace. Or so it would have been if not for the chaos running rampant in your mind.
Bellamy’s lips. Bellamy’s hands. Bellamy’s fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut. Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy–
A loud pop from the fire sounded which startled you from your thoughts.
Opening your eyes, you looked around the camp. Everybody else seemed to be in their own little worlds too, unable to shake the incredulity of knowing they were now on an alien planet. Clarke was on her back, gazing up at the foreign sky above; Jackson was enthusing about the unfamiliar wildlife. Echo simply admired the tall mountains that encompassed the lake, an expression of gratitude reflecting on her face. You would feel the same way too if your hormones weren’t raging like that of a teenage boy’s.
To add fuel to the fire—quite literally—Bellamy was bent over the flames, cyan blue sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and feeding more wood to the blaze. His dark curls were pushed back from his face apart from a few stray strands. His skin was shining from the humidity, sending your mind spiralling into a visualisation of the times he was on top of you, all sweaty and hitting that eye-rolling spot inside of you over and over.
You sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was ridiculous; he was your boyfriend and yet every time he was near, your body responded to him like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“Something on your mind?”
He had sat down beside you, your shoulders now pushed up against one another.
More like ‘someone’, you thought.
“Nope.” You crossed your legs over one another, thighs squeezing together in the hopes of providing some kind of relief. You couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid that your willpower would come crumbling to ruins. “No thoughts up here.”
Bellamy eyed your visibly flustered state, one cocky eyebrow raised.
His hand moved onto your leg. “Liar. I know your tells. And this,” he murmured whilst squeezing the inner plush of your thigh, “is one of them.”
Finally, your gaze met his, almost like you were in a standoff. He knew how much you were suffering. Mostly because he was too.
“Bellamy,” you warned.
He turned back to the fire, slowly kneading your inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking…”
“Uh oh.”
The flickering flames reflecting in his dark brown irises turned them a blazing orange but did nothing to alleviate the darkness that was sitting just behind his eyes. Taunting him probably wasn’t the brightest idea at that moment.
Then again, it also held the potential to be a fantastic idea. You knew how he got when pushed to his limits.
“Seems like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted,” he began, curling his hand around your thigh. “So, I figured we may as well turn it into a challenge.”
“A challenge?” you asked, moving your hand on top of his and taking control.
He nodded.
Slowly, you began to guide his hand further up your thigh, inch by inch. As expected, he showed no resistance. You could even see the imprint on the front of his pants which were now tight for the third time that day. “And what exactly does this challenge involve?”
As you got closer to the destination you craved most, your movements became slower, and more delayed, contrasting to the increasing pace of your chest rising and falling. Your shoulders pushed back against the driftwood, your body reclining just a tiny bit further as you stared up at him, lips parted.
Bellamy watched his hand travel beneath your own, completely transfixed. “We, uh, see who can last longer without…” he trailed off as your thighs clamped tighter around him.
The side of his hand brushed against your clit through the material of your pants and your breath hitched. Thank god everyone else was too distracted to notice the situation unfolding before them. The fire was probably doing you both some favours as well.
“Without…?” you coaxed him on.
You pressed him firmer against you, rolling your hips in small circles to create the sensation you’d been longing for. He didn’t move, only allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. The muscles in your stomach flexed as tingles quickly spread across the lower half of your body, from your toes to beneath Bellamy’s hand. You’d give anything to let him give you your release then and there, but you knew an audience wasn’t exactly favourable.
That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the build-up.
God, Bellamy was right. You really were into exhibitionism.
By the way his brows were pulled together and his eyes looked almost pained, you swore he was about to come undone just at the sight of you.
He clenched his jaw and managed to ground out, “Without touching each other.”
Your eyes flickered between his, showing no sign of stopping your movements even when he finally managed to get out his explanation. You slightly bucked your hips forward, pulling him in further to which he inhaled sharply. Truth be told, Bellamy was the most stubborn person you had ever met, excluding his sister, Octavia. But there was one thing that could overrule Bellamy’s unwavering resolve, and that was you. Hell, on multiple occasions all you had to do was ask and he would be on his knees, mouth between your thighs in the blink of an eye, so he should have known the minute he announced his little game, you had already won.
“Okay,” you whispered with an innocent smile.
Within seconds, you had shot up onto your feet, now hovering over him.
Instinctively, he too moved into a standing position as if under threat. He stood so close that your torso was nearly touching his.
“What are you doing?” He leaned in close, voice low to prevent attracting any attention from the others.
“Um, winning?”
He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gone over a century without you; I can last a little longer.”
You took one step closer until you were flush against him. How could you not? It’s not like he’d expect you to make it easy on him.
“Only a little? Oh, come on Blake, have a bit of faith in yourself. You can last longer than that.” You looked him up and down. “I would know.”
He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, and hummed a chuckle, one that was meant to say, ‘You are in way over your head, princess’. Maybe you were or maybe he was. What you both knew for sure was how the game was going to end, and despite your determination to win, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.
His body left yours and he backed away, a smug smirk resting on his face. He retreated over to Murphy and Emori, sitting on the log beside them and began engaging in their conversation.
You turned to face the fire, letting out a shaky breath you were hoping he couldn’t hear. It had become quiet now, the surrounding area seemed different compared to just a few minutes prior, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. The small waves were still rolling onto the shore; the campfire was still crackling.
Something was missing.
You scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.
“Ow!”
Your eyes snapped to the sudden voice. Clarke was sitting on a plank of wood, rubbing the back of her neck with her brows furrowed together.
Walking over, you sat on a log adjacent to her. “What happened?”
“Oh, just got bit by a bug.” She gestured to the dead insect lying on the wood beside her.
It had big, round eyes, and wings like a fly. Wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if it weren’t the size of your palm and had a tail like a scorpion.
“Some bug.”
That’s when you realised—all the insects had stopped chirping.
Almost on command, Jackson and Miller stumbled over to the campfire, gaining everyone’s attention as Jackson rambled on about how he had captured the same bug in a glass jar and its behaviour had randomly become erratic. People began rising from their seats and crowding to watch the insect smash itself against the glass. Clarke and you shared a concerned look.
The air, which once was silent and peaceful, began to buzz like you were all surrounded by a cluster of beehives. Reality was much worse.
“What the hell is that?” Emori spoke.
As if to answer her question, the sky suddenly filled with hundreds, no, thousands of winged insects, which seemed to follow each other in groups that formed large patterns in the air. You were willing to bet your life on them being the same as the one that bit Clarke. Great—man-eating bugs.
“Swarm.”
“Everybody cover up! We’re heading to the beacon now!” Bellamy commanded.
You snatched your backpack from the ground, pulling out a black cotton scarf before slinging the bag straps over your shoulders. Not long passed before the others did the same and you were all running for your lives through the dense thicket of trees. Branches snagged on your clothes, shredding them to bits as you struggled not to run face-first into a tree. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, though…. Murphy.
Your breathing was becoming irregular as your body pushed to its limits. As awful as it sounded, when Emori tripped over a fallen branch and the group had to stop and help her, you praised the lord. Everyone huddled together, the bugs now surrounding the group, flying past and leaving bite marks on your bodies. Luckily, Clarke had the idea to light a flare.
“They hate fire! Light the flares!” she shouted.
Someone came running toward you from where Emori had tripped, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. Upon seeing their eyes, you knew it was Bellamy. He wordlessly scanned your features for any wounds, his gaze a mixture of concentration and worry. You nodded as if to tell him you were alright, and he did the same.
After the ten seconds you were provided to catch your breath passed, you were on the move again, the flares now protecting the group from the swarm. The trees were becoming less and less, and the ground under your feet had turned into a wide gravel path that ended at a large field of crops surrounded by metal rod towers.
You continued running forward, following the others as the field grew closer. In front was Shaw, who was multi-tasking between tracking the beacon on his device and leading the group to safety.
“Here! The beacon’s here!” he shouted.
Just as he passed through the towers that bordered the crop field, a bolt of what looked like lightning struck him. He was sent flying back into the group with a yell, landing at your feet.
“Shaw!” You crouched down, observing the minor burns that were littered across his cheeks and forehead.
He groaned, pulling himself back onto his feet with your assistance. “I’m alright.”
Jackson rushed to his side, immediately pulling out his med pack and assessing his wounds. The damage wasn’t lethal but if they couldn’t find a way to get through to the other side, they would have more to be worried about than burnt flesh.
Clarke was already searching for an answer to their escape and once again, she found it.
“It’s radiation.” She looked around as the bugs began to circle them, blocking their long-distance view. “We need to get through. It won’t affect me.”
Before anyone could stop her, she was running through the shield-like fence.
“Clarke, wait!”
“Get back here!”
To everyone’s surprise, she made it out the other side without a scratch. But how was everyone else supposed to get through without Nightblood?
You felt a warm hand slip into your own, offering a small amount of comfort. You didn’t need to look to know whose it belonged.
“Clarke, the tower—its Eligius tech. You need the failsafe code to turn off the shield!” Shaw yelled out. “Four-seven-eight-one-five!”
Exhaling a sigh of relief, you squeezed Bellamy’s hand. There’s a failsafe code.
Clarke rushed to one of the metal towers, opened the control panel and punched in the code. The energy sources atop each tower dissipated, signalling the shield's termination.
“It’s down! Come on!”
Murphy was the first to pass through, dragging Emori behind him. Copying his actions, Bellamy tugged you forward, the both of you passing through the towers together. Once everyone made it through, Clarke powered up the defence again, causing the swarm of insects to disintegrate upon meeting the shield’s radiation bolts.
No one said a word. Instead, they used the time to catch their breaths, some laying on the ground and others dropping to their knees. You tugged the covering off your head and placed your hands on your thighs for support. Multiple strands of hair fell around your face as you bent over, trying to replace the air your lungs lost, a few strings of curses spilling out in between.
Bellamy, who was so inconceivably fit that his breathing was already slow and even, placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”
Lifting a shaky arm from your leg, you gave him the thumbs up.
He tenderly massaged your shoulder and scanned the group to make sure everyone else was alright.
“What the hell was that?” Echo huffed.
**********
Night cycles on Planet Alpha operated very differently compared to Earth—darkness held the sky for a good five hours before the two suns rose again, much unlike the twelve hours everyone was accustomed to back on Earth. That and this planet sent man-eating swarms of insects whenever night fell. Or so you assumed.
The suns peaked through the distant treetops; orange beams of light were spread across the fields you had walked. A few hours had gone by since you first stepped through the radiation shields. A few hours of walking got you and the others atop a small mountain that seemed to be centred within the large circle of towers, providing a good bird's eye view of the fields of crops below.
You continued trekking up the well-trodden path on the hill, Bellamy and Clarke on either side of you. The last time you interacted with Bellamy was when you entered the protected area, but since then, you had avoided eye contact, physical touch, and conversation. You knew yourself; one wrong move and you would lose his game. Despite almost being eaten alive, you were still determined to stick to the rules, and even though innocent affection and conversation were allowed, you didn’t want to risk it.
Plus, total avoidance would only make him crave you more—the basic rule of men, unfortunately.
Emori walked a few steps in front of the group, her movements quickening as they reached a rounded corner. “Guys, look. Stairs.”
Orange-brick stairs came into view and you watched as Emori began ascending them, everyone else following behind her. You climbed up the stairs, Bellamy ahead of you by a step or two. Not for long though. Your pace increased until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, but only for a split second before you placed a hand on his bicep, dragging your palm across as you moved a few steps ahead of him. You could hear his breath hitch and a small smirk teased the corner of your lips. Now he was the one behind you—how he usually liked it.
If you weren’t going to interact with him, the least you could do was give him a good view.
Once you reached the top of the stairs, everyone stood side-by-side, taking in the view in front of them. It was incredible. It was like all the beauty on that planet had been condensed, thrown into a single area and turned into a village. That was what it was—a village. Plus, a castle?
“They have a castle,” Murphy said in wonder.
It looked like something from medieval times crossed with The Hobbit. The windows were circular and made of multi-coloured glass panes. The structure was made of bricks and rounded towers with various intricate patterns decorating different areas, and two round staircases curving up to a second-level balcony. It was so striking it had to have belonged to some divine being because no one else could have deserved such a beautiful palace. Well, there was one exception.
You glanced at Bellamy whose face was lit up with the brightest grin you had ever seen as he too let the beauty sink in. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to turn away. So, you turned to Murphy.
“Perfect for you, Murphy,” you jested. “King of the cockroaches.”
“Careful. Roaches bite, you know,” he retorted
You raised your hands in faux fear.
Clarke stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”
Most of the buildings looked modern and were made of glass and coloured wood or shipping containers, surrounded and covered by different types of flora. Flowers were not in short supply there, that was for sure; every garden held a new and exotic type. Even the pond in the middle of the village had flowers in it. There were coloured banners everywhere as well—some that hung from each building, and some that were standalone's. The suns’ light just made everything seem so much more vibrant and enchanting.
You and the others were going door-to-door, knocking on each one to see if anyone was there. So far, you had no luck, if that’s even what it was. Almost every home had been checked, but there was no one. The last house to be checked came by and apparently Murphy ran out of patience for simple pleasantries. He kicked the front doors open.
“Well, look at that.” He turned to the group. “This one’s unlocked.”
He stepped inside and began rummaging through the owner’s belongings, not that it surprised anyone very much. You watched as he bent over and picked up something that looked like a neck cuff connected to chains on a wall.
“Hm. Kinky.” He turned back to the group with a devious grin on his face. His eyes flickered between you and Bellamy. “Any takers?”
He gestured between the two of you with the chains as if he were offering them. Oh, you were so tempted to pull a knife on him.
Your eyes went wide, and Bellamy almost choked on his own breath. All eyes were now on you and him.
You took off in the opposite direction before anyone could say a word. “I’m–I’m gonna find a change of clothes.”
It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to leave anyway. Your clothes were practically threadbare from the rough escape through the forest. Thankfully, you could hear the group begin talking about something completely unrelated before you were out of hearing distance. You weren’t sure where you were headed in particular. Anywhere that wasn’t near Murphy or Bellamy would suffice.
You didn’t want to be apart from Bellamy at all. Quite the opposite. You wanted him. You wanted his hands to roam all over your body, to feel his arms tight around your waist as he thrust deep inside you from beneath, and to have his name dripping from your tongue as he made it impossible for you to distinguish the meaning between the words ‘love’ and ‘lust’.
(If only you knew that he was suffering the exact same way.)
However, his ego was much too inflated for you to let him win. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. The greater good being not having to constantly listen to him tease you for losing in the future. But as time went on and your body started physically reacting to the separation, losing started to seem like not such a terrible idea. You were conflicted. Give in, or push on? The decision was painfully frustrating and also just downright painful.
While amidst your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the opposite side of the village until you were standing outside a dark red-wooded house. Covering the poles that held up the structure’s second story were apple blossoms. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.” That was the first thing you had said after stepping onto the ground—a reference to the story of Adam and Eve. Now here you were, contemplating handing yourself over to desire. A literal bite of the apple.
You shook your head, pulling down the door handle to the red house and it opened. Locks didn’t exist in this place it seemed. Stepping inside, you noticed several cardboard boxes on the ground both opened and unopened. There was furnishing such as couches, bookcases, a round glass dining table, and leather seats, but they were all scattered across the room and half had white sheets covering them. It looked like the owner had just been moving in.
As you assessed the room, you noticed a floor-length mirror attached to one of the walls, so naturally, you moved yourself in front of it. The reflection did not match the person you were before leaving Eligius IV. Your bun wasn’t even a bun anymore; half of it had fallen out whilst the other struggled to stay within the hair band. Your clothes had more holes than you could count and were covered in a thick layer of dirt and insect blood. A grimace fell across your face. Gross.
At your feet was another cardboard box; it was opened with a variety of fabrics spilling out. Crouching down, you pulled out the black material at the top to find that it was a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder shirt. It wasn’t exactly practical, but it beat wearing insect organs. You exchanged your two previous shirts for the black shirt; the material stretched around your curves, clinging to your body like a second skin.
Next was a change of pants. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jeans, leaving you only in your black underwear and socks. And so, the search began. A good ten minutes went by and you found nothing but long skirts and dresses. You were not about to walk outside dressed up like some grounder princess. Not now at least. Maybe there were more boxes upstairs?
After locating the staircase to the second story, you began to climb. Just like the first level, there were boxes and furnishings. There was a large thigh-high mattress against the back wall with two glass doors on either side leading to a balcony. The mattress was covered in several different blankets consisting of shades between white and purple with a mountain of matching pillows at the head of the bed. On the wall facing the mattress was another floor-length mirror. These people had a vanity problem.
Much to your displeasure, none of the boxes upstairs contained any pants either, so there you stood in the middle of the room wearing only a tight shirt and underwear. You sighed in frustration, tugging your hair band from the bun and letting your locks cascade over your shoulders and down your back. With nothing else to do, you decided you might as well go outside and see what the others were doing. You stepped out onto the balcony; the house’s architect had the right idea by designing it with a concrete fence that covered your lower half.
The others were still lingering on the other side of the village. You rested your forearms on the balcony fence, watching as Murphy signalled for Shaw and Bellamy’s assistance with pulling a heavy wooden crate from inside one of the houses. Knowing Murphy, it was probably full of stuff he was going to take for himself, which would have explained Bellamy’s reluctant stance. There was also something else that seemed to be troubling him. He looked distracted, almost torn between choices, his eyes occasionally wandering to the opposite side of the village where you had previously walked off to. Nevertheless, he eventually did give in to helping Murphy.
And then suddenly time all around you began to slow down. You were in a trance and it was no one but Bellamy’s fault.
He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing his tanned and veiny arms beneath. He placed his hands underneath the crate and lifted in time with Murphy and Shaw. Even from such a distance, you could see his muscles tense and flex under the weight, the size of his biceps nearly doubling and bursting through the seams of his shirt. His face carried a strained expression, something you had seen many times before but in very different circumstances.
Your skin flushed with heat, and your bottom lip curled between your teeth as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. Blood was buzzing in your ears; you felt fucking intoxicated. You were aware of how feral your behaviour had become but it was inevitable. In a game like this, it had to be.
Once the crate was outside, he and Murphy placed it on the ground. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, his gaze already beginning to wander once again. As if he could feel your stare burning straight through him, his eyes found your distant ones up on the balcony. The feeling of a hole being burnt through him was understandable because your eyes were ablaze with sin. That had to have been the tenth time you’d made him hard now and it was becoming painful.
You weren’t embarrassed to be caught staring, instead, you were intrigued as to what his next movements would be. But he made none. He simply stared at you over his shoulder, eyes stern and calculating. Who was going to win wasn’t the question anymore. The question was: How could either of you prepare for what was coming? A century’s worth of abstinence was also a century’s worth of build-up, meaning the release would be messy, and Bellamy wasn’t one to hold back.
Finally, he broke the eye contact, but only for a few seconds. His eyes moved to the building beside him and then back to you as if he were trying to get you to follow his gaze. So, you did. What he had gestured to was another pair of chains and handcuffs connected to a wall. Instinctively, you gasped, feeling a pulse in your stomach which you knew was his exact objective. You looked back at him, seeing the self-satisfied grin plastered on his face before he turned back to the group.
That son of a bitch.
Your back slid down the concrete fence until your ass hit the cold marble floor. He was driving you to sex-crazed insanity and you didn’t know how to fight against it. You needed something. Anything to relieve the torment. But you knew if you started, your hands would never stop, not until they were replaced with his.
Maybe the cuffs weren’t such a bad idea.
“No!” you had to verbally reprimand yourself.
Your head fell in your hands. This was all getting too much for you. One-hundred-and-twenty-five years… and a day! You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac but holy fuck. It was getting to the point that even his name had you aching, tearing yourself to shreds. You couldn’t take it any longer.
Moving onto your hands and knees, you began crawling—yes, crawling—back inside. You managed to pull yourself up onto the mattress with trembling arms and fell back against the quilt and cushions in the middle of the bed. A shaky breath left your lips. If Bellamy couldn’t be there to take care of you, then you would finish the job yourself.
You slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric covering your heat, fingers racing to meet the spot you needed. Back arching into the bed and stomach tightening—that is what you expected to happen when your fingers began circling your clit, but it was nothing of the sort. All you felt was skin on skin and the slightest of sensations. Even when you pressed harder, and moved faster, there was nothing.
Letting out a quiet, distressed cry, you readjusted your position and switched hands. You began rubbing back and forth, side-to-side, every way that had gotten the job done in the past. You moved one hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, pinching and grazing your nipple, trying to replicate all the moves Bellamy had pulled on you before.
Still, there was no relief from the ache you felt. You needed to go further. Your hand moved lower, fingers hovering over your slick opening before sliding one in. This was never your forte; it was Bellamy’s. Whenever you needed to pleasure yourself, you would stick with outside stimulation, so all you knew was what he had done to you. After sliding your finger in and out a few times, you added another, but it still didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing that he usually did.
He took over your thoughts and you tried to imagine it was his hands instead of your own, but you were just fooling yourself. They were your fingers, not his. You were alone and you were desperate. No one could make you feel as close to heaven as him, not even yourself. Somehow, he knew the workings of your body even better than you did. Without him there in your desperate time of need, it was useless…
So, you started crying—like, actual tears-running-down-cheeks-and-sniffling crying. You felt utterly pathetic and that was all you felt. There was nothing you could do to help yourself. Bellamy was outside with the others, and it wasn’t like you could just waltz out there without pants on and ask him to fuck you incoherent.
Your fingers slipped out from inside you, wet and splayed across your bare stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, condemned to the unshakable longing within. Too distracted by your inability to satisfy yourself and your attempts to stop the tears from flowing, you didn’t hear the door downstairs open and closd. You sniffled, continuing to feel sorry for yourself.
Footsteps were coming up the staircase, but you didn’t hear them either. Nor did you notice the familiar figure that was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling that same terrible longing that had led him to you. Only when he cleared his throat did you shoot up into a sitting position. 
Bellamy.
“Bellamy,” you whispered, eyes wide and full of new-found hope.
He didn’t say anything, just simply observed you. First, he noticed the sparse clothing on the bottom half of your body; his pants became the tiniest bit tighter. Then he saw your eager expression—even tighter. And then, his eyes found the fingers lying in your lap, coated in a shine that had his entire body pulsing.
The drying tears on your cheeks were a dead giveaway of the desperation you had for him. He tilted his head, insincere pity washing across his features that you knew was only meant to taunt you. “What did you do?”
Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the words. “I–I–”
He pushed off the doorway and slowly walked over to you, each step measured in regard to prolonging the time it took for the distance between you and him to close.
You moved onto your knees as he got closer.
Once he finally stopped beside the mattress where you were sitting, he peered down at you. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”
His arms were doing that thing again where they bulged beneath his shirt. He was right in front of you, all you had to do was reach out and touch. So, you did. You reached for his arm, but he was quick to intercept, catching your wrist in his hand. He looked like he was holding back a smirk, but his scheming eyes revealed how he felt. Smug.
For a moment, he moved his attention to your hand, turning it side-to-side to watch the light catch on the wetness. His eyes returned to yours and it was suddenly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He gently began to pull you forward, guiding you off the bed and you let him, oblivious as to where he was taking you.
When your feet hit the ground, he led you towards the wall. What you had failed to notice when you first entered the room was that there was another pair of chains connected to a handcuff. Scratch what you had thought before—these people had a bigger kink problem than vanity. Before you even had a chance to think, the leather cuff was bound around both your wrists.
You looked up at Bellamy. “Wait, wha–what are you doing?”
He sat back on the edge of the mattress. “Giving you another chance to win.”
The game. You had almost forgotten.
Winning and losing were a foreign concept to your mind now. All you wanted was Bellamy and he knew it which was why he found teasing you so entertaining. You tugged on the chains, trying to reach out to him even though you knew it was useless.
“Don’t think that will work, princess.”
You stared at him, exhaling sharply. Frustration was quickly building, and you wondered how long it would take until you were in tears again.
He looked around the room as though he hadn’t a worry in the world.
“It’s kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” he asked, brows furrowed.
Then he was pulling his shirt over his head and you were sinking to your knees. That was just cruel. His entire torso was exposed now, from his well-defined abs and chest to his broad and muscular shoulders. So cruel.
Your head fell back against the wall. “Bell–”
“What were you thinking about?” he interrupted, arms crossed over his chest again. There was no material preventing you from watching his muscles expand, from seeing the crafted curves of his toned arms. “Before I came in.”
I was pretending it was you who was touching me, you thought of saying, but your voice failed you.
He leaned forward, forearms resting on his spread knees. Staring at you expectantly, he was quick to realise he wasn’t getting an explanation. He nodded as if to say, ‘I see how it is’.
“Was it my fingers…?” He began cracking his knuckles one finger at a time, gaining all of your attention. “Or was I inside you?”
Your walls spasmed at the thought and you sighed softly.
“Were you imagining what it would feel like to have me between your legs after so long?” You closed your eyes, listening to him put the images in your mind. “How good I can make you feel? How fast?”
Goosebumps spread all over your body, your skin tingling with anticipation. You heard the bedsheets ruffling. He had moved off the mattress, now crouched in front of you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about it too.” His voice was a low murmur now. “I can’t stop.”
He watched your eyes screw shut even tighter as he got closer. You looked like you were hurting, and he almost gave in, with heavy emphasis on the ‘almost’. Instead, he ghosted a finger across your collarbone. “I think about kissing you here.” He trailed up your neck. “Here.”
You could feel the air flexing between your lips and his finger, and you shivered. “And here.”
Your eyes slowly peeled open to see his face in front of yours. His dark eyes flickered between your own, peering deep into your soul which was entwined with him. He was already inside you without even touching you; he was inside your mind and under your skin. Your body was his and his body was yours. You loved him so intensely that whenever he fucked you, you forgot you were two different people instead of one.
To Hell with the challenge. To Hell with losing. He was your Heaven, and such torturous deterrents wouldn’t keep you away from the rapture he gave.
In a single move, you leaned forward and crashed your lips to his. Your body curved into him and he caught you with both arms, holding you upright against him. There was a split second before Bellamy responded as realised you finally gave in which meant he could too, and his lips began moving against yours. Just like the first kiss you shared on Eligius IV after waking up, this one was hungry, but that word sounded inadequate compared to what it really was. ‘Ravenous’ was more accurate.
You moaned into his mouth, your body feeling like it was coming alive.
His movements were intoxicating and so were the small sounds he made when he tried to fill his lungs with air. There was a rumbling in his chest, and he sounded almost primal. He brought a hand to the side of your head, fingers buried beneath your hair as he deepened the kiss, merging your lips with his.
Your bodies rocked backwards and forwards, your cuffed hands pressed against his chest meanwhile his were around your back and the other was in your hair. Bellamy’s hand moved to squeeze your waist and your mouth opened, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and meet your own.
He rolled his tongue over yours during one kiss, and the next, yours had asserted dominance. You swirled around him, tasting him, mixing with him. During the time you took to explore the inside of his mouth, the floor beneath you had disappeared and was replaced with his arms. Your back was against the wall and if he wanted to, he could have dropped you at his feet; you had no way of holding on except for your legs which were wrapped around his hips.
You returned the power to him for a few seconds only to then lightly bite down on his bottom lip. He let out a quiet groan and slowly drew back to press his forehead to yours. For a while, you both stayed like this, breathing in each other’s breaths with your eyes closed.
Everything around you began to spin, and your head felt euphoric as you used his air as your own. The sensation spread through your body, it coursed through your veins and you needed to move, to feel it come to life. Your hips bucked forward but he was quick to push back, pinning you against the wall with a small grunt. His erection pressed between your legs, but he didn’t move. Eyes snapping open, you sent him a pleading look. How much longer was he going to make you wait? You tried to move your cuffed hands between your bodies, but he held them to his chest with one hand.
You wiggled against him, but it was futile.
“Bell,” you almost sobbed. “Bellamy, please.”
He lifted a finger beneath your chin, watching your reddened lips whisper the word ‘please’. He watched your eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You begged him over and over, and he allowed you to. He let you humiliate yourself in the hopes that he would give you what you wanted. You had completely fallen apart, and now he was going to piece you back together.
“What do you want?” His thumb brushed across your lips.
“Just touch me,” you pleaded.
A few more moments passed of you both just staring at each other, and then it was like something finally snapped in his eyes. He set you down on your feet. At first, you thought he was going to sit back on the bed, and you nearly choked out an objection. That isn’t what happened.
Instead, he pressed another tender kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck, and down your clothed chest. His hands moved down either side of your body as he sunk to his knees in front of you and trailed kisses across your exposed stomach.
Your breaths started coming out in shorter, shallower intervals as he moved further down.
His hands squeezed your hips as he kissed the skin below your navel, causing your eyes to nearly roll back then and there. Finally, he made it to just above the waistband of your underwear. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now. So close. His hands moved onto your thighs and he leaned in, briefly pressing his warm lips to your thinly covered heat. A jolt of pleasure moved up your body and you gasped. You could feel it—him.
He glanced up at your impatient expression before pulling the underwear down your legs, lifting each foot until it was completely discarded. He eyed the soaking mess that you already were and licked his bottom lip. This was all because of him. His eyes found yours once more, this time wordlessly asking for access despite your obvious enthusiasm.
All you managed to get out was a frantic, “Please”.
And when his mouth finally found your clit, a tear fell from your eye.
Your bound hands fell on top of his head, tugging at the soft waves as his tongue delved between your folds and flicked across your clit. His warm hands moved to the backs of your thighs, burying his face even deeper, exploring you even further. He moved down to your opening, spreading his tongue flat against it and dragging up to collect the mess that you were already becoming. Once he had returned to your clit, his mouth suctioned, sucking with pressure that caused you to let out a cry.
It wasn’t long before you felt the ghost of your orgasm begin to slowly step into the white light. The muscles in your stomach were tensing and rubbing together, preparing for a release that they were guaranteed to have.
Your back arched off the wall as you felt Bellamy’s teeth softly graze against the most sensitive part of your clit. He circled the surrounding area, the nerves beneath your skin setting alight with pleasure under his tongue, burning you from the inside out. When he mumbled something against you, you could feel the vibrations of his voice bury itself deep inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the filthy moan that had been begging to escape.
He pulled back an inch, your hips unconsciously following him as he said, “You lose.”
His mouth returned to your heat, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit, switching between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.
“No,” you managed to breathe out. There was no way something like this could be called ‘losing’. You were the one who got to feel Bellamy’s mouth between your thighs, bringing you to an extreme state of ecstasy. You were the one who had him on his knees before you. “I win.”
He groaned at the sound of your voice and you felt the pleasure move up another level. Your legs buckled beneath you as you tried to grind on his tongue. He took that as a hint to haul one of your legs over his broad shoulder. Now you were another level higher. Your hips bucked against him, feeling almost like you were vibrating as he continued his movements.
Just when you thought the sensation couldn’t get any better, you felt his thick finger suddenly slide deep into your opening and curl. Another tear ran down your cheek and you gripped onto his hair as your head fell back against the wall. You couldn’t even moan; there was only a chorus of strangled noises leaving your throat. He pushed upwards into the soft fleshy wall inside you over and over at a fast and steady pace, and suddenly, you were on the edge of pure bliss, ready to dive into the consuming waters.
His mouth sucked on your clit, tongue circling its peak, meanwhile, he added another finger to pump inside of you.
“Fuck, Bellamy!” Your voice had risen an octave, all breathy and needy.
Like a heartbeat, you could feel yourself throbbing, pleasure building more intensely with each pulse. The muscles in your stomach were so tight it felt like they were being burned with a white-hot flame. Your insides were twisting and coiling and with every curl of his fingers, the feeling only intensified.
Bellamy glanced up at you from below, your eyes meeting in a short exchange.
It all happened so fast.
“I’m–” Before you could finish your sentence, you were shot back up into space, seeing stars.
Your legs tensed up, heel digging into his back as your body began to shake. The coil inside your stomach unravelled, exiting through your opening but not before aggressively rubbing at your insides on the way out. For a moment, you forgot where you were. All you knew was the release, the buzzing in your ears and the way your vision swayed through half-lidded eyes.
Bellamy’s name flowed past your lips like a mantra. He didn’t stop; he kept pumping, kept sucking, prolonging the sensation for as long as he could. Everything was pulsing—the air, his fingers, your pussy. Everything. You would’ve thought you had ascended to a higher dimension if it weren’t for the man beneath you.
You felt his mouth disconnect from your body, fingers still moving inside, although, his pace was beginning to slow and so was your orgasm. The feeling was fading away, leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of weakness in the lower half of your body. Bellamy could feel your legs shaking, so he slid his fingers out. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and the next thing you knew, your legs buckled, and you were collapsing to the ground
Bellamy caught you in his arms, pulling you into his lap. He watched your thighs tremble as aftershocks washed over you, creamy liquid dripping down your skin. Your furrowed brows, half-closed eyes, and parted lips were a sight to see; he’d never witnessed anything more beautiful in his life.
You peered up at him through your lashes, cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and you smiled. Then you laughed, and then he was laughing too. His chest vibrated against your skin. Your hands reached up to push back a strand of his hair from his face and suddenly you were kissing again.
He placed a hand on your back and guided you until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Your taste was on his tongue and you loved it. You felt it seep into your own tastebuds as you rewound back to when you came on his fingers. You used his chest as support to help swing your legs on either side of his folded thighs so that you were now facing him.
His hands ran down your sides, stopping at the hem of your shirt before pulling it up over your head, exposing your naked breasts to the warm air. Bras were impractical when you were Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend; he’d always find some way of removing them anyway. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned all the ones you used to wear.
He lowered his head to your chest, hair tickling your neck as he began making it his mission to cover your breasts in bruises that marked you as his. Despite feeling like your ability to walk was eradicated, you could feel yourself craving more of him, more of his sex. As previously disclaimed, sometimes fatigue didn’t stop you two from going multiple rounds and this time wasn’t an exception.
If only your hands weren’t bound. You wanted to touch him the way he did you. You wanted him to feel the world disappear and be replaced with a mind-numbing sense of sinful pleasure. You wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t. Your hands were cuffed, and he had the key.
“Uncuff me, Blake,” you whispered.
His head lifted from your breasts, reluctant eyes meeting your own. “Why should I?”
You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and turned your head away from him, but he was quick to pull you back with two fingers on the side of your jaw.
“You still lost, remember?” he added.
As if you didn’t already know that. “That was not my definition of losing.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes and even though you were supposed to be in a minor disagreement, you couldn’t help but think about how fucking sexy he looked. You leaned forward, lips ghosting over his. “Uncuff me, Blake.”
His jaw clenched and he leaned in, but you quickly pulled away. His eyes narrowed at you and the smirk you were biting back. He had played the ‘humiliation game’ with you and now it was time for payback. Bellamy may have been the one with the keys, but it was you who now had the control.
“C’mon, we both know you’ll give in before me,” he said, arrogantly.
Always count on Bellamy to be egotistical, even in bed. Well, ‘on the floor’ would be more accurate.
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
You hummed, placing your restrained hands on his chest and slowly grazing them down his torso. When you reached his stomach, you made sure to slow down and drag your nails across his skin.
He inhaled sharply when your nails scratched the area above his pants’ waistband. “Very conceited for a boy who can’t even handle being touched.”
His chuckle came out as a harsh exhale. “‘Boy’?”
“A man would take these chains off me.”
“You think taunting me will get me to break?”
Provoking words wasn’t what was going to break him; you knew that. It was underestimation that was going to be his fall. When it came down to it, men were very simple creatures. They chased after pleasure like it was the one thing that kept them alive, and you knew each and every weakness this man had. He thought just because he won the game, he also won the war. Well, guess again. You were going to knock him right off his high horse.
Your fingers dipped into his waistband. His hand quickly clamped over one of your wrists, pulling it away from his pants. Not that it mattered; you didn’t need your hands. He held your hands in the space between your bodies, his chest rising a little more irregularly than before.
You leaned forward, tantalisingly slow. This time he made sure not to move a muscle, allowing you to do exactly what you wanted. Your mouth hovered in front of his and you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips. Softly, almost as if the moment had become sugary and sweet, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a tender closed-mouth moan buzzing in your throat upon contact. He responded with the same energy.
And then the mood abruptly shifted as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip.
You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, and you knew you were headed in the right direction. Grinding down on his lap, you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as he grunted. One weakness down; four to go. Your tongue swirled around his with each open-mouth kiss, and he had no choice—you both knew he was having the time of his life—but to reciprocate since he had already given up that area of defence.
Your hips continued to rock back and forth across his lap, occasionally applying a bit more pressure in the hopes he would be triggered to move. He wasn’t. Yet. So, you left his lips and moved down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His head tilted to the side with a sigh, allowing you easier access. This spot was not your main target, though. Your kisses trailed up to his jaw, running along the sides and the curve of his jawline before dipping just beneath the area where his jaw and neck connected. That was one of his weak spots.
His next exhale was shaky, paired with the quietest of groans. Two down. Then you moved on to the next target: just below his ear. Your tongue grazed the area before you left your mark by sucking on his soft skin. He was louder this time and your confidence soared higher. Three; two to go.
He had let go of your wrists now, resting his hands on the curves of your hips with his eyes closed. So much for the whole my-willpower-is-stronger-than-yours dispute. You watched his face as you dragged yourself back and forth over his erection. His eyes screwed shut, brows pulling together, and his fingers pressing hard into the soft plush of your hips.
Come on. Come on, you thought.
“Let go, Bell,” you purred into his ear. Your entire body weight shifted onto his lap and you almost revealed the same weakness you were trying to pull from him. He was so incredibly hard now that it probably wasn’t even healthy. He would have to unchain you soon. And just to pour gasoline on an already roaring fire, you added, “I want to feel you inside me.”
That was it. He couldn’t deny himself the heaven you were giving anymore. His hips bucked up into you, creating a pseudo-sensation of sliding between your folds—an action that erupted a full-fledged moan from his lips, causing your inner walls to flutter and your stomach to drop.
Weak point four—check.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before suddenly snatching the knife from the holster on his belt and splitting the leather cuffs around your wrists.
And five. Check yes Juliet.
Wow. he couldn’t even manage to grab the keys.
Your hands were free at last, and you wasted no time in using them. They rushed down to unbuckle his belt and tossed it on the floor with a clink. Before you could continue any further, Bellamy rolled you over so that you were now lying caged beneath him. His lips came down on yours in a flurry of passion.
Now that you had full-body autonomy, you couldn’t help but explore every inch of him that you were once denied of touching. Your fingertips ran over his back, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, and around his large biceps. You wove your fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged just because you could.
He reached under the curve on your back, pulling your body up into his, your pelvis’ meeting in a rough collision. He was a mess of grunts and groans and you were quickly inhaling more air than you needed.
You moved a hand to his cheek to deepen the kiss as your touch explored his body further, slipping between your bodies and settling on unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping his flier with one-handed skill, your warm, soft hand slipped into his boxers, finally coming into contact with his hard cock.
His head fell to your chest with a broken moan.
Your fingers curled around him, beginning to stroke up and down his length. Bellamy had taken many of your firsts, including your first time so you had no one to compare him to. However, you were well aware that he was bigger than average. Even if he hadn’t been, you were certain he would satisfy you the same; he was just that good.
He managed to lift his head back up and return to your lips as your arm pumped up and down. His hips lurched forward as your grip increased. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel when it was your heat that was engulfing him, how wet and warm you always were.
Your hand reached the head of his cock, thumb rubbing circles over his tip as you felt drops of precum coat your fingertip. He was usually able to last a long time, just like you, but this was different. Everything inside him was built up for a century, and it would not take much until he was coming in your hand. You wanted him to reach that point as soon as possible.
You left pecks trailing from his mouth, across his cheek, and to the side of his jaw. The bone of his jaw fell victim to your grazing tongue as your pace increased along with the pressure of your grip. He was breathing heavily now, every second breath mixed with a low, breathy moan or grunt. You were throbbing just listening to the sounds he made.
A few curses left his mouth, revealing how close he was—that and the way his cock was practically pulsating in your hand. You twisted your hand with each stroke, effortlessly gliding your palm down his large veiny length. Your thumb grazed over the sensitive band of skin beneath the head of his cock, and his entire body flinched.
He was almost over the edge; all you had to do was give him a little push. Wanting to see his face one last time before you did, you leaned back, cradling his jaw in one hand whilst the other continued below. His eyes were shut, inner brows pulled upwards in a painfully blissful expression and strands of dishevelled dark hair had fallen across his forehead. God, he was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to…
No. You had your pleasure; now it was his turn. With each jerk and twist of your hand, your fingers ran over his tip then moved back down to lightly squeeze and repeat. You pressed one last peck to his lips before travelling to that spot below his ear, running your tongue over the skin and then sucked.
His cock twitched in your hand, stomach tensing against your forearm before he finally let go. He let out a loud guttural moan of your name, almost a cry, as he released onto both your hand and the inside of his pants. His head fell forward into the space between your neck and shoulder, groaning into your heated skin which sent vibrations down to your breast.
He remained in that spot for a few moments as you continued to slowly pump him up and down whilst pressing kisses to his shoulder. As he attempted to get his breath back, you removed your hand from his pants and moved both onto his back, lightly dragging your nails over his skin.
Now you were both even, but it was clear this was far from over.
Warm pants fanned across your face after he recovered enough to hover over your body. You were about to tease him for coming quicker than you did, but his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, rolling around your own. And then you felt it—he was already hard again.
That’s a lot of stamina for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man.
He left your lips again and rose to his knees. His carnally intense eyes never left yours as he pulled both his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs. You watched as his cock sprang from his boxers and bounced off his toned stomach. Still looking good for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man too. Extremely good. Like, actually drool-worthy good.
And it seemed he was thinking the very same thing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, almost like he couldn’t believe the fact himself before he descended back down to you, mouth hot on yours.
His hands were on the floor on either side of your shoulders, essentially trapping you beneath him. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him; almost like he could hold you in the palm of his hand like a little china doll. The treatment he gave you was also like that of a china doll—such a delicate and treasured touch. Though, there were times when he would practically throw you around like a rag doll, mostly when you were both deep in an intense fuck session.
The length of his cock glided over your stomach as he moved his body into each kiss. It was so close to where you needed it, yet still so far. Your legs curled around his hips in an attempt to guide him to your entrance, but he showed slight resistance. His tip was just pushing through your folds, sliding across with each movement he made. It was torture.
You pulled back from his lips, hands almost clawing at the sides of his chest. “Please, Bell, just–”
A gasp escaped you both as Bellamy finally pushed inside you in one fluid movement, his hips almost meeting yours as he filled you as much as your previously abstinent body allowed. Your walls welcomed him and the long-awaited feeling of his cock brushing against that back-arching spot deep within you. He hadn’t even moved yet, but your eyes were fluttering, and your throat was already tightening as you struggled to let out a moan.
Neither of you could do anything but struggle to keep your composure, waiting for the overwhelming heat of pleasure to subdue just the tiniest bit so your bodies could start moving without the world crashing down around you. After moments of stillness passed, Bellamy finally began to move, his pace slow but so, so deep. His gaze was intense as he found his rhythm, sliding almost completely out and then pushing himself back inside you. Fuck, the way your warmth consumed him was hypnotic.
It was kind of like the first time you had slept together those many years ago, minus the nearly unbearable pain when he first entered you, of course. It was intense yet still so full of adoration.
Your body soon grew accustomed to the feeling of his cock stretching you open, making room for him to bury even deeper, to feel your walls completely swallow him whole. That is when his pace started to increase. Your arms hooked around his biceps, bringing him closer as he continued his thrusts.
Not long passed before his hips were snapping against yours; he wasn’t just sliding in and out of you anymore—he was fucking you, pounding into you. Each time he buried himself deep, the area above his cock ground against your clit, stimulating you from the inside and out, so much that it was impossible to hold back a moan.
He moved a strand of hair away from your face, nodding his head as if to praise your vocalisation. The sight of him praising you for simply enjoying yourself as he fucked you was something that turned you on beyond belief. Not that you needed any more turning on at that point, but still, the reaction stood firm.
You wanted him deeper, in any way that was still physically possible.
And then, a sudden, lust-bound thought entered your mind and before you could even ponder it, you had used all your strength to roll yourself on top of his body. Now, his hands were on your hips, head thrown back on the floor and mouth hung open as you rode his cock.
“Oh, fuck!” Bellamy groaned.
Your hands were on his thighs as to hold up your half-reclined position and you were bouncing up and down, rolling your hips so you could feel him everywhere inside you.
A shudder ran down your body, peaking the nipples of your bouncing breasts. You swore you could almost feel him in your stomach. You shifted your body weight into your arms and pushed yourself upwards, sliding his cock nearly all the way out, circling your entrance around his tip before sinking back down to his base.
The both of you let out a synced noise of satisfaction.
His eyes followed each roll of your breasts in a trance, and then he cupped one in his hand, circling his thumb around your sensitive nipple. You gave Bellamy a smile, one that was so sweet and unintentionally seductive. He let out a half chuckle, half groan.
Your legs began to burn, a reminder of the experience you had with Bellamy’s tongue just before this. The way your clit was slapping against his pelvis each time you dropped mimicked the way his tongue had previously flicked and rolled around it. Your pace was beginning to slow, and your rhythm faltered, but you didn’t want the sensation to stop. Instead, you let yourself sink fully down on his cock, and your eyes rolled back. Ok, now he had to be in your stomach because there was no other explanation for the deepness you felt.
He was permanently in that spot that had blood rushing to your head, and with your hips rocking back and forth the way they were, your gut was throbbing with a build-up of ecstasy.
“I–” you panted. “I can’t hold myself up much longer.”
You squeezed his thighs, surely leaving behind red marks as you tried to push yourself up and down a few more times, pleasure and pain fuelling each of your repetitions. It was no use; your arms were trembling, and muscles were burning.
Bellamy was quick to your aid. “I’ve got you, princess, don’t worry.”
His hands moved to your back, pulling you forward, and colliding your breasts into his chest. Next thing you knew, he was pounding hard up into your pussy, his movements so fast you couldn’t even count the number of thrusts he made every five seconds, but it felt so good. So good that you almost screamed.
Your clit was throbbing, inner walls clenching around his unrelenting cock. You were hot, your body slick with sweat, but it wasn’t just that; there was also a fire pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, spreading through your muscles, through every fibre of your being and you didn’t want it to stop.
Bellamy’s arms were wrapped around your waist, rendering you immobile to each of his insatiable thrusts but it made you feel all the more incredible. He was hitting that soft, fleshy spot inside you over and over again, and you felt like you were going to burst. Your stomach was fluttering, his cock was pulsing inside you, and you were a mess of whines and moans.
“You feel–” he couldn’t even speak without releasing a rough moan. His arms tightened around you, mouth moving against your shoulder to say, “Feel so good.”
You couldn’t help but cry out at his words; he sounded so drunk on pleasure.
He began pressing rough kisses to your neck and the noises leaving your throat were utterly impure. His knees bent inwards, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. You were both overcome with desire, hellbent on chasing your release that was taunting you from the shadows. Bellamy seemed almost animalistic, sucking and biting at the skin of your neck whilst pounding into you from below.
Like always, he had made it so that you didn’t have to lift a finger, and he liked it that way. He was making you feel like you had slipped into heaven, and only he could do that. One of his many sources of joy was that your body only knew his cock, and it would forever only know his because that was how long he planned to love you.
You placed a hand on the floor beside his head, hovering your face above his. His eyes were quick to find yours as you gazed down at him.
In between each of his thrusts, you breathed out, “I–love–you.”
He looked so flustered, so puffed out. He was unable to repeat the words back without them sounding like a laboured breath of air so instead, he jerked forward and latched his mouth on the bone of your jaw, turning your skin red and purple.
Your head turned to the side to give him easier access only to unexpectedly come face-to-face with yourself being absolutely destroyed in the mirror’s reflection.
Well… It sure wasn’t a vanity problem these people had, you knew that now.
“Bellamy, look,” you gasped.
His entire body stilled at the sound of your voice and he eyed you with a worried expression. “Did I do something?”
“No,” you tilted his head with your hand so that he was looking at the mirror too. “I just…”
He didn’t need to hear more; Bellamy knew exactly what you wanted—to watch. Watch as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, watch it curve into your entrance, watch your body bounce on top of his with each thrust. Damn, he’d wished either of you had noticed the mirror before so he could have watched you ride him from two point-of-views.
His gaze returned to you. “Hop off.” You were about to protest, but he beat you to it by clamping a large hand over your mouth. “Trust me.”
You gave him a puzzled, hesitant look but eventually submitted to his command, sliding off him and onto the hard marble floor. His body had left yours entirely, leaving you feeling cold and empty, inside and out.
It wasn’t long before he positioned himself to face the mirror, kneeling in front of it. He curled an arm around your waist and slid you across the floor towards him. Like a rag doll. He pulled you backwards onto his lap so that your back was almost against his chest and your thighs were spread open on either side of his.
“Lean back,” he said, and you did.
Your back was flush against him, and you could feel his racing heart reverberating in your ribcage. His arms wrapped around the space beneath your breasts and he pulled you upwards, supporting your weight, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up.
“Ready?” he whispered into your ear as you watched him in the reflection.
You nodded, reaching around to rest a hand on the side of his neck.
He kissed your cheek and your eyes closed at the sweet act of affection. One of his hands moved beneath you as he guided himself to your entrance, his tip pushing against your wet folds. Bellamy watched over your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the way his cock teased opening.
He finally slid inside, and you instantly fell further against him. Muscles were very handy in this kind of situation. You were captivated—his length disappeared into your body and then returned almost to the tip, covered in a thin layer of both your juices. His movements continued over and over, but you never found yourself bored or wanting to look away. Neither did he.
Your lips parted with a moan when he abruptly took one hard thrust up into you. You looked up at your reflection, seeing the expression on your face, seeing your dishevelled hair… your bouncing breasts. Not that you would say it aloud, but you looked sexy. For a split second, you found yourself finally understanding the attraction Bellamy had to you, and then your mind was torn apart once again.
His speed increased and he was hitting your insides harder and harder with each passing second. You saw your thighs slightly jiggling and weren’t insecure or afraid of Bellamy noticing, but instead found yourself feeling even more turned on.
The room was full of sex—the sounds were wet and harsh, the smell of your pheromones clung to the wall, and the visuals were etched into the mirror in front of your bodies. It was beautiful.
You moved your gaze up to Bellamy’s eyes, seeing him just as captivated as you were, alternating between watching himself slip in and out of your pussy and watching your breasts recoil from each bounce. He then met your gaze, talking to you through unspoken communication. Though you were unsure of the specifics, you were certain he was telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you, how no one else could ever compare.
His tip repeatedly curved into your G-spot, the rest of his length rubbing against your walls, causing the flames in your stomach to start rising. Bellamy could see the fire in your eyes, and he was ready to turn it into a blazing inferno. He shifted his hold on you into one arm, reaching around your body with the other. His fingers found your clit, instantly applying pressure as he rubbed fast circles around it. That was the gasoline.
Your orgasm was no longer creeping up inside you, but rather rocketing to the surface. You were pulsing around Bellamy’s cock, driving him even closer to his own high. His hips were slapping the skin of your ass as they kept snapping upwards. His abs were more defined as the muscles in his stomach tensed up, trying to keep you upright whilst fucking into you and controlling the orgasm that was threatening to release. You always came before him. Always.
His fingers pressed harder into you, moving side-to-side. Your G-spot was being hit without mercy, only intensifying the pleasure you felt as he rubbed your clit. You alternated between holding your breath and letting out shallow, laboured breaths, signalling how close you were.
You could feel it, Bellamy could feel it—you were pretty sure everyone outside could feel it too, feel the powerful energy leaking from the house you were in. That is what it felt like. Powerful. And now it was about to take over your entire body.
“Bell, I’m gonna–”
“I know,” he panted. “Me too.”
Your hand fell over his, pushing down on it, applying more force even though you weren’t sure he could even press any harder. His hand was almost blurring in the mirror, and his cock was pounding. He was breathing so heavily against your back and into your ear that it sounded like he couldn’t even control the grunts and moans leaving his mouth anymore.
He circled your clit a few more times before your hand moved further down to the place you both connected. Your fingers found the area between his cock and your pussy, feeling him slide over your fingertips as he moved in and out. That was what sent you over the edge.
The blaze in your stomach exploded, sending sparks throughout your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, rebounding off every corner of the room. Your ears were buzzing with overwhelming silence, your vision partially blacked out and you felt so, so good. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you hardly noticed, unable to think about anything except Bellamy’s cock. You had ascended to a higher dimension and he was right there with you, endlessly pounding up into you, prolonging your mind-numbing high.
Feeling your walls clenching around him was all it took for Bellamy to fill you up with his come. His cock twitched, and the warm liquid came rushing out in spurts, coating your insides with white—with him. The thick warmth of your mixed juices leaked from your opening and dripped down his length. Your inner thighs were drenched.
His thrusts were sloppy and rough, desperate to keep the feeling coursing through his body as long as possible. The sounds he made were so guttural and raw that you weren’t sure if they made you come again or if they just prolonged the orgasm you were already having.
Somehow, in the midst of both your highs, you had ended up on the floor, partially laying on each other whilst frantically gulping down air.
You couldn’t move. One of your legs was tangled between his, and one arm was thrown across his chest. Your breasts were pressed against the hard ground, head turned to the side facing Bellamy. Everything was shaking, or maybe it was just your entire body uncontrollably quivering. Even your pussy was still clenching, causing you to flinch with each fraction of a movement it made.
Bellamy had a forearm over his eyes, panting heavily; his other arm was still wrapped around your waist.
The both of you just lay there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving, just recovering. Eventually, Bellamy gained back enough strength to speak.
“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” he chuckled.
You then realised you were both literally lying naked on a stranger’s bedroom floor and laughed. “We would’ve ruined the sheets anyway.”
“Probably,” he sighed, contently. He pulled you further onto his chest, bringing your face to nuzzle into his neck. He pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you too, princess.”
You smiled into his skin, remembering the declaration you previously made. Tilting your head up and resting your chin on his chest, you stared up at him, eyes full of reverence. He peered down at you with a grin, and then his lips were on yours again, soft and slow; so tender that you–
“Oh, come on!”
You both pulled apart at the sudden new voice. In the doorway stood a very irritated Murphy. He seemed too shocked—more like too horrified—to even look away.
Bellamy ripped a blanket from the edge of the mattress and pulled it over your body. “Murphy, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you! Get out!”
“Oh my god!” he shouted in response. “I can’t catch a fucking break around here!”
His voice echoed down the staircase as he fled the building. Someone probably needed to find him a shrink after the number of times he had walked in on you both. He had made it back outside, returning to the rest of the group, though not far enough away for you to miss his very loud complaints.
“Where are the damn carnivorous bugs when you need them?!”
“What’s wrong?” you heard someone ask him.
“What’s wrong? They’re fucking animals, that’s what’s wrong!”
You turned back to face Bellamy, grinning in a daze. “I’ll say.”
Bellamy smirked, humming in agreement as he rolled back on top of you.
It was hard to say how many more rounds you went. The only time you stopped was when your bodies were screaming for a break, and during that time, all you could think was thank god for contraceptive implants.
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gracelogan · 2 years
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Jasper gets injured, doesn't take advice to go see Clarke and loses a limb.
Content Warning: Amputation
For Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Gangrene
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@badthingshappenbingo​
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swagatron9 · 2 years
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All I Have
Pairings: John Murphy x reader
Warnings: the hanging scene for murphy in season 1
Summary: The reader wants to protect Murphy.
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I refused to look at the fingers that had been put on the table, after Wells' death we had all been on edge, waiting for the attack from the grounders. I had been with Clarke when we were called in to the tent and I was sure in for a surprise when I walked in.
Clarke observed the knife that had been made from scrapped metal. "This knife was made of metal from the drop ship." This could only leave to one conclusion.
"Who else knows about this?"
"No one. We brought it straight here." Despite my protests, Octavia had taken Jasper outside of the walls so he could get away from everything. After his injury and all, I'm sure camp is the last place he would want to be, but that didn't mean I liked the idea. They had returned quickly and showed their discoveries to Bellamy.
"It means the grounders didn't kill Wells. It was one of us."
"So, there's a murderer in the camp-"
"There's more than one murderer in this camp. This isn't news. We need to keep it quiet." For once in my life, I had actually agreed with something Bellamy Blake had said.
I stepped forward and said what was on my mind. "If we tell everyone it will cause chaos, is this really what we need?" Clarke's gaze landed on me as she eyed me suspiciously before heading out of the tent.
Bellamy was quick to step in front of Clarke, blocking her only exit. "Get out of my way, Bellamy." The blonde headed girl seethed.
"Clarke, be smart about this. Look at what we achieved. The walls, the patrols. Like it or not, thinking the grounders killed Wells is good for us."
"Good for you, you mean. What, keep people afraid and they'll work for you? Is that it?"
"Yeah, that's it. But it's good for all of us. Fear of the grounders is building that wall. And besides, what are you gonna do, just ask the killer to step forward?"
"He's right, Clarke. We don't even know who the killer is, it's not like they'll just-"
"Oh, really? You don't know who the killer is?" Suddenly all eyes were on me as everyone looked at me questioningly. "J.M, John Murphy. Your boyfriend. I wouldn't be surprised if you helped with all of this." Clarke stormed out of the camp with me followed behind her.
"Clarke, stop. I'm serious, Murphy wouldn't do something like this." I attempted to stop her from walking any further but instead I was shoved back into one of the delinquents.
"Hey! What's going on here?" It seemed luck hadn't been on my side today as the person who was now claimed as a murderer decided to step out.
"You son of a bitch." Clarke marched her way up to Murphy and I rushed to stand by his side. He sends me a smile before it was replaced with a smirk as he looks over at Clarke.
"What's your problem?"
"You recognize this?" Clarke waves the knife around in front of Murphy's face.
"That's my knife. Where'd you find it?" Murphy went to reach for the knife, but Clarke moved it out of his way.
"Where you dropped it after you killed Wells." Murphy's smirk dropped and changed into a hard look as he stood up straight.
"Where I what? The grounders killed Wells, not me."
"See Clarke, I told you. Now can we move on?" My comment was shoved to the side and ignored as Clarke took a challenging step towards me.
"I know what you did, and your gonna to pay for it."
"Bellamy, you really believe this crap?" Murphy looked over to someone he considered his friend only to get no reply from him. I could see the stone-cold look in his face falter for the shortest bit of time before he quickly recovered. His eyes glanced over towards me, and I sent him a reassuring smile to know that I was with him.
"You threatened to kill him, we all heard you. You hated Wells." I let out a snort at her reply. I couldn't believe that she was shocked that someone hated Wells, especially with how she was reacting to anything he did when he was alive.
"Plenty of people hated Wells. HIs father was the chancellor that locked us up-"
"Yeah, but you're the only one that got in a knife fight with him."
"Yeah, I didn't kill him then, either." Murphy continued to defend his innocence and as I looked around at everyone surrounding us, I could see that no one really believed him, and that wasn't good.
"Tried to kill Jasper too."
"Let's say you didn't kill him. Then who do we have to blame? Your girlfriend? After all, you two share everything with each other." I was shocked with how quickly Clarke had managed to turn the tables, first Murphy and now me.
"How about we don't blame anyone without reasonable evidence." I stepped towards Clarke.
"Oh, and Murphy's knife next to the fingers from Wells' hand isn't reasonable enough for you?" I shook my head at her poor excuse for why myself or Murphy could be the killer.
"What's to say, he didn't drop his knife and some psychopath picked it up? You don't know anything."
"Come on, this is ridiculous. I don't have to answer to you. I don't have to answer to anyone."
"Come again?"
Murphy walked over to where Bellamy and Octavia were stood, by the looks on Bellamy's face, he for sure wouldn't believe a thing Murphy would say. "Look, I'm telling you, man. I didn't do this." I was too far to hear what Bellamy was saying so I instead tried to reason with Clarke.
"He was with me the night of Wells death; he didn't do it."
"Oh, he was with you the night of Wells death?" Clarke suddenly spoke up. "So, you're both murderers? Is this the kind of society that we want? You say there should be no rules. Does that mean we can kill each other with no punishment?"
"I already told you, I didn't kill anyone-"
"I say we should float them." Everyone arounds us cheered at those words and all I could do was stand there shocked.
"That's not what I'm saying."
"Why not? They deserve to float. It's justice." I walked back over to Murphy suddenly beginning to feel nervous, no one was on our side no more. This couldn't end well. Murphy wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him.
"Revenge isn't justice-"
"It's justice. Float them!" A chant began to rumble, and I knew we were screwed.
"I love you." Those three words were whispered in my ear and somehow, I was able to hear him through the uproar of cheers. "Bellamy, look after her." I was shoved towards Bellamy who pulled me close, and all hell broke loose.
Everyone swarmed Murphy with some eyeing me, knowing they couldn't do anything with Bellamy standing right there.
"Hey! Leave him alone." His cries stood out amongst the shouts, and I couldn't help the tears that poured. "Bellamy! Do something. You can stop them." I turned around to face Bellamy, but his gaze never met mine.
"Okay, that's enough." Octavia went to stop them but was held back by Bellamy as well. With this time, I ran forward and pushed through the people. Once I came close enough, I threw the first punch landing on the boy that had tied Murphy's hands back. I tried my best to fight off the crowd but when elbows hit you in the stomach, it's a little hard to retaliate.
I dropped to the floor where I was repeatedly kicked and stomped. "Leave her alone!" I was in a daze as I felt my head hit the floor, my vision had got blurry and all I could feel was pain.
I was yanked up to a standing position where I was dragged down a hill to be met with a tree, one with a rope tied to it. Through dazed eyes I was able to see Murphy getting lifted up, where a rope was tied around his neck. "Stop!" I cried, but it was no use.
A chant of Bellamy's name had begun and my heart broke as I watched him walk over to the box that was holding the one person I cared the most for. "Bellamy, please." He turned around to look at me. "He's all I have." Bellamy bowed his head in shame before kicking the box.
Hands gripped tightly onto my arms as I was restrained from helping. I was forced to watch as Murphy kicked around to get himself up. Clarke shouted at Bellamy, but it didn't make sense. She was the cause of all of this, if she had of listened when we told her then none of this would have happened. "You're next killer." I felt as someone breathed down my neck.
"Stop! Murphy didn't kill Wells. I did." Gasps were heard all around and while everyone was distracted, I elbowed the person holding me and ran for the hatchet in Bellamy's waistband. I cut the rope and ran straight over to Murphy who lay breathing heavily.
"I'm so sorry." I cradled his head to my chest and hugged him tightly, whispering I'm sorry over and over again. "I won't let them hurt you again." Hearing Murphy's choked sobs hurt everything I had in me; it was something I never wanted to hear again.
If only I could've kept my promise.
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deantavias · 1 year
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eat
read fanfic
cry
sleep
rinse & repeat
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spadoodle · 1 month
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Goth Uncle Astarion.
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maysileeewrites · 6 months
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a helping hand - John Murphy x reader
Summary: „Why are you helping me? I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ Set during 1 x 10 (I am become Death), based on this teaser.
warnings: mentions of blood + injuries, angst, Murphy being Murphy (yes, he does have a soft side in this, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still a dick); please lmk if I forgot something! 
AN: I’m not quite sure whether anyone will still care for Murphy x reader in 2023, but I love my trash son so much, I just had to write something about him. Please let me know if you liked it! 
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You dip the bloodied cloth into the bucket filled with water, watching as the water slowly turns red. Your hands are bloody as well and there’s dried blood crested under your fingernails, but with all the sick teens around you needing medical attendance, you don’t have time to try to thoroughly wash your hands, so you just dip them into the water, grabbing a bar of soap, watching as the water turns an even deeper red. 
Blood. 
There’s just so much of it. 
You sigh, standing up again. There’s no time for dwelling on your thoughts, not when the whole first floor of the Dropship is full of sick, coughing teenagers that need your help. 
You go to Fox and Connor next, checking up on them. But apart from trying to clean them up - they’ve started coughing up blood as well - and getting them to drink some water, there isn’t much you can do to actually help them. You have no medicine, no painkillers - apart from Monty’s moonshine and considering that a painkiller really is a stretch in your opinion -, nothing. Only a few spare blankets you and Clarke gave out earlier, in order to help keep everyone warm. 
A sudden wave of anger and irritation at your helplessness when faced with this unknown, dangerous virus overcomes you and you clench your fists in frustration. You allow yourself a moment to try and bury that emotion deep inside - because being this emotionally overwhelmed, you won’t be any help to the others -, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. 
When you open your eyes again, they land on Murphy - who’s looking right back at you with his good eye, the other one is still swollen shut. 
You gulp, trying to swallow down the nervousness that is suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Murphy’s the one who brought the disease into the Camp. 
After being tortured by the grounders for days, you try to remind yourself. After being unceremoniously tossed out of Camp for a murder he didn’t commit. And while he’s definitely a rude asshole that can be a bit unpredictable at times - though you think more often than not he’s just lashing out when provoked, attacked, or in case of the whole Charlotte incident, wrongfully accused - you don’t think that he’s as bad as everyone makes him out to be. 
But maybe that’s just you being naive, always wanting to see the good in people. He did try to go after Charlotte, after all. Though, you think, that probably had more to do with him seeking justice - a twisted, self-righteous kind of justice, but still justice - than vengeance. 
You sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Whatever the deal with Murphy is - and whatever the reason for you to suddenly spend so much of your thoughts on him is - right now, it doesn’t matter. 
Right now the only thing that matters is that he’s sick and hurt and he needs someone to help him clean up his wounds and that’s exactly what you’re here for. 
So, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders, before walking over to him and dropping down in front of him. His blue-green eyes - the good one at least- meet yours for just a split second, but then he’s looking away again. You dip the cloth into the bucket of water - after helping Fox and Connor you’d gone out to get some fresh water - and reach out for him, but just when you’re about to touch him, he twists away from you. 
„What’re you doing?“, he says, his voice low, distrust and irritation evident in his expression. 
„Helping you“, you answer, gesturing to the wet cloth in your hands. „Someone needs to clean up your wounds, Murphy.“ 
He scoffs. „Yeah, right.“ 
You frown. „Look Murphy, just let me help you, please.“ 
He doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t acknowledge your words with anything other than a raise of his eyebrows, but you decide to just take his lack of a verbal response as a good sign - or at least as a sign that he hopefully won’t refuse your help any further. 
You wet the cloth cloth again, before carefully reaching your hand out to him again. This time, he doesn’t twist away from you, so you gingerly touch his bloodied and scarred cheek with your fingertips, before carefully applying pressure with the cloth. 
All the while, Murphy looks at you, an undecipherable emotion in his blue-green eyes. The intensity of his gaze is distracting, and you swallow, trying to concentrate on cleaning up his wounds, trying to ignore the burning heat of his gaze. Though it’s impossible to really ignore it, with you two being so close that you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver. 
Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - if you weren’t paying so much attention, you might’ve missed it, but as it is, you can see the bitter smirk that crosses his lips for an instant, before he bites down hard on his lips. 
Your eyes meet then. You swallow - you feel caught in his stare, unable to look at anything but him. 
„Why are you helping me?“, he asks you, his voice low and raspy and laced with something that almost sounds like desperation. „I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ 
„Because you need help“, you say, underlining your words by lightly trailing your fingertips over the deep cut on his left cheek. „And because I want to understand you.“ It’s true - you do want to understand him. You want to know how he came to be who he is today, why on earth he set fire to a room on the Ark. 
And fuck. This - this is dangerous. 
That bitter smirk crosses his face again. „Oh, so you want to know why I’m such a jerk, why I told the Camp’s location to the grounders, is that it?“ 
„You were tortured“, you say softly, but Murphy only scoffs. 
„Yeah, I’m afraid that doesn’t count as an excuse“, he says, voice full of bitterness. 
„Wha-“, you start to say, but then you remember that you saw Bellamy talking to Murphy earlier. And yes, that would certainly explain Murphy’s comments about his being tortured not being an excuse for giving up your location. 
You sigh frustratedly. Of course you know that Bellamy only wants to protect everyone at Camp, but you also know him well enough to imagine him making some kind of petty remark how he wouldn’t have caved under torture, wouldn’t have given up the Camp’s location. 
Which - fuck that. Anyone would eventually cave under torture, even someone as strong-willed and fierce as Bellamy. 
Murphy’s hiss of pain when you accidentally linger too long on one of his cuts with your fingertips draws you out of your thoughts. „Sorry“ you say, biting your lip. 
Murphy just shrugs and suddenly you’re hit with the desperate urge to help him, even though you’re not quite sure if there even is anything you can do that could make his situation better - apart from cleaning up his wounds, which you already are doing. 
„I’m sorry for what happened to you“, you say then, looking at him. „That’s not - I can only imagine what you went through and I really am sorry that that happened to you.“ 
Murphy looks at you, confusion and irritation evident in his expression. 
„And I know that won’t change anything-“
„No it won’t“, Murphy interrupts you, but this time, there’s no venom in his voice - just pain and resignation. „But it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.“ 
Now it’s your turn to be confused. As you continue cleaning up his wounds, you mull over his words in your mind, trying to understand what he’s implying with his words. Does he mean that he was tortured on the Ark? But that can’t be right, can it? Yes, the Ark’s council is strict and unforgiving, but you haven’t heard about them torturing somebody. 
„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 
You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it. 
Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest. 
You clear your throat, trying to sound more confident than you feel. „I - uh - I need to take a look at the wounds on your chest, judging by all that blood I’ll probably need to do some stitches … uhm could you - uh - maybe take off your shirt?“ 
Kill me, you think, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of course, the first time you’ll see a boy without his shirt on - apart from some of the boys that walk around Camp shirtless in the morning and you don’t think that they actually count - has to be in this weird situation. 
As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. But just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain. 
„Let me“, you say, helping him. 
For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly. 
Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“ 
You nod, clearing your throat. Not knowing what else to say, you start inspecting his chest, lightly trailing your fingertips over the various scratches and other wounds - trying not to be distracted by his muscles you can feel under your fingertips and his burning gaze. 
Murphy hisses again when your fingers brush over a particularly deep wound. „Sorry“, you murmur, leaning in even closer to get a better look at his wound. „This wound needs some stitches, I’m, uh, going to get a needle and some thread.“ 
You get up and walk over to where all the medical supplies are stored, thankful for this short moment away from Murphy, his intense stare and your confusing thoughts about him. 
„Here“, you say, after sitting down in front of Murphy again and hand him the bottle of moonshine you’ve grabbed as well, „you might want to drink this before I get started on those stitches.“
Murphy just nods, taking the bottle of moonshine from you and taking a long, big sip. „Do your worst“, he says, prompting you to roll your eyes. 
„Thanks for the vote of confidence“, you murmur, though you can understand why he’d be apprehensive about this. If it were you being in his situation, you’d rather be stitched up by a trained doctor as well, but since you teens are all on your own and Clarke, the only one of you with actual medical training is currently getting some well-deserved sleep, you’re his only option. Unlike Clarke, you haven’t received any actual medical training but you do know how to give stitches - in theory at least - so you hopefully won’t screw this up. 
Here goes nothing, you think, getting started on the stitches. 
Murphy bites down hard on his lips, though a slight hiss still escapes him. 
You cringe, shooting him an apologetic smile before concentrating on his wound again. „Sorry.“ 
Murphy doesn’t say anything in response, just nods. 
You’re both quiet as you continue with the stitches. Then, when you’re almost done, Murphy suddenly says: „I got real sick when I was thirteen … only made it because my dad stole some medicine for me ... course, he got floated for it …“ 
You swallow, meeting his gaze. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you this - you just know that the story he’s about to tell you most likely won’t have a happy ending. 
Murphy looks away from you then, laughing bitterly. „My mother … she was never the same after his death … She started drinking. Blamed me for his death. Told me everyday that I’m a worthless good-for-nothing that’s responsible for his father’s death. She died three years after him … and I just-“
He stops talking then, shaking his head. 
„Murphy, I-“, you start to say, though you stop as well, not quite knowing what it is that you actually want to say. Murphy suddenly opening up to you is so confusing and his story so heartbreaking, you’re not quite sure what the appropriate words for this situation are, let alone if there even are any. 
„Anyway“, Murphy now says, voice tinged with bitterness, „I just - I had all this pai- anger in me and I didn’t know how to handle it, how to let it out. So I set fire to those rooms, got arrested.“ 
„Murphy …“, you say, your voice hollow, your heart breaking for the broken, angry boy in front of. 
He laughs dryly, though the sound has a wheezing quality to it that instantly worries you. „You wanted to know, didn’t you? Wanted to understand why I became such a jerk. Well, there you have it.“
„I do“, you say, putting away the needle and thread and looking at Murphy, meeting his gaze. „I do understand you, Murphy. I still think you’re an opportunistic jerk, but I understand, I really do. I - I know that it’s not worth much, but I am sorry that this happened to you, it’s awful.“ 
Murphy just shrugs, not saying anything. 
But he’s still looking at you and now that you know what to look for, now that you finally understand him better, you see the pain in his expression.
Not just due to the torture. There’s so much more, pain that’s probably been building in him for years and that he turned into sharp, pointed hate and anger, because he didn’t know how to deal with all of his pain. 
You want to help him, though you don’t really know how and why. Yes, he is a rude jerk and at Camp he was also somewhat of a bully, but you think that that’s most likely due to him not knowing how to communicate in something that’s not just anger and aggression. But you also believe that there’s more to him - that he’s not just this lonely, broken, rude jerk that that’s probably just a facade he’s hiding behind. 
„I understand, Murphy“, you say again, still looking at the storm of emotions in his green-blue eyes. Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - he’s listening to you and something in his gaze tells you that he believes your words, believes you. „I truly do. But there’s more to life than just pain, anger and aggression.“ 
With that, you reach out a hand, softly grasping one of his hands with yours. You’re not quite sure why you’re doing it, you just know that you want to be there for Murphy, that you want to help him - and that you want him to understand that you truly mean your words. 
Murphy’s arm jerks, as if he wants to rip his hand out of your grasp, but then he grasps your hand, squeezing it lightly. He reaches up with his other hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 
Just like before, your breath hitches. But this - this is different than before. This time, there’s no venom in Murphy’s gaze, no quiet challenge, no pent-up anger. Just curiosity and something softer that you can’t quite describe. 
„I still don’t really get why you’re helping me“, Murphy says, leaning even closer to you. You’re so close that you could count the lashes on his good eye. You feel his breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver in anticipation. 
„But I’m glad that I let you.“ With that, he leans in even closer, searching your eyes and whatever he sees in them, must convince him. He presses his lips to yours and you’re so overwhelmed that you don’t know how to react. But just when you feel Murphy starting to pull away, you kiss him back, bringing your free hand up to his neck. 
You feel him smirk into the kiss and if you weren’t currently kissing him, you’d definitely roll your eyes at him. As it is, you continue kissing him, though you give his hand a squeeze that’s probably a bit too harsh. 
Murphy just smirks again, deepening the kiss and tangling his hand in your hair. You can feel your heart start to beat faster and there’s a curious sensation in your stomach that feels like those butterflies that you’ve read about in books. 
You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of Murphy.
Kissing Murphy feels good, though his lips are chapped and dry and he hisses in pain when you overeagerly lean a little too much against him. But still - kissing Murphy feels good. 
And even though you’re still confused and you know that one conversation won’t suddenly make him sunshine personified - you like his dry sarcasm way too much for that - you also know that you want more. You want to get to know Murphy, really get to know him, you want to be there for him. And if there are more occasions to kiss him along the way of getting to know him and helping him, then you certainly won’t complain about that. 
Murphy gives you one last, bruising kiss, before breaking the kiss, breathlessly leaning his forehead against yours. 
„I - Murphy - what …“, you stammer, still too wound up from the kiss. 
Murphy smirks. „That was thank you.“ 
You can’t help but roll your eyes. „I see“, you say dryly. 
„For stitching me up … and for not giving up on me“, Murphy adds, his voice serious again. 
You smile softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eye. „I’ll be sure to stick around then.“ 
Murphy grins, though there’s a vulnerability to it now that wasn’t there before. „Doesn’t sound too bad …“ 
„Yeah, it doesn’t“, you agree, before leaning up to kiss him again. 
You feel him smiling into the kiss, causing you to smile as well. 
Yes, the road ahead is not going to be easy - this is John Murphy, resident sarcastic, rude asshole, after all - but you’re not afraid to walk it with Murphy. 
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forbescaroline · 8 months
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favorite platonic relationships: john murphy and raven reyes “Everyone was so surprised when I stayed behind, most of all me. I thought maybe I was doing it to impress Emori, but the more I think about it… I mean, why do you always have to be the one to sacrifice?”
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daniel-bruehl · 3 months
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"Don't you worry Bellamy, I won't drop you."
Bellamy Blake and John Murphy THE 100 // Season 2 Episode 4
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