#cannonverse

“Pretty much,” She confirmed.

Eren has a scar kink. Levi kind of does too in a different way.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9727922/chapters/21931121

Erwin smiled up at his Captain and the faint, pink tinge dusting the tops of his ears, he thought, wasn’t due to the night air.

{This is written in second person from Clarke's perspective, the night after she gave her speech in 4x02. I basically wanted to write a xreader with Bellamy but without having to introduce the reader as a new character... Also Bellarke is too real... + I'm on the mobile app, so instead of italics, I have used '/.../'} Dedicated to @sun-breath I love fangirling with you 😁 - You stare up at the ceiling restlessly, head swimming with images of the people you just lied to. In your room which contains nothing more than a bed and a bench, you feel pressed in; suffocated. You squeeze your eyes shut to block the people out of your mind and stay that way until your controlling conciousness loses it's battle and gives way to sleep. "Clarke..." ALIE's emotionless voice reverberates inside your head, it has an an amost painful, ghostlike ring to it that causes you to jerk upwards so that you're sitting. You're outside, though you don't remember walking there, slumped on the hard packed dust in Arkadia.  "Clarke, don't." ALIE's voice comes from inside your head, and you know this, but you still spin around, looking for the cause of the risen hairs on the nape of your neck. In the distance you spot a figure, sprawled on the ground, unmoving. You rub your eyes, still feeling the weight of sleep, before pushing your legs forward in a half-run.  The closer you get to the figure, the more your heart begins to push against your chest. The lines that draw together on the face of the fallen victim are familiar. Too familiar, too much like home to be written on a corpse. "Mom?" Fire roars in your chest, spreading to your throat as you kneel over her. Her body is cold and stiff as you turn her over. A long and deep gash is scored accross her throat. "Mom," Your voice only comes out in a hoarse whisper, then softens, "no." "Clarke..." Bellamy's voice comes from behind you. You're confused by its tone, it's as though he can't even see Abby's corpse.  You turn, vision obscured by tears.  Bellamy stands paralysed, a long, sharp blade pressed against his throat. Your eyes follow the length of the blade, to Echo, who looks you directly in the eye with a cold, emotionless menace.  "Take the chip Clarke," Echo says in ALIE's voice.  "Please don't hurt him," you say, reeling back at the sound of your own voice. Cold, emotionless, ALIE. You squeeze your eyes shut in panic, and when you open them Echo is gone, but Bellamy still stands with a knife to his throat. ALIE, who now weilds the knife, rips it sideways, driving it deep into Bellamy's throat. He makes a panicked grunt before the life vanishes from his eyes.  Agony colder than ice rages through your body, you collapse to your knees, screaming, overwhelmed with shock and panic and grief.  You jerk upwards again, only this time in your room, tangled in sweaty blankets. Your throat is raw and stinging and your cheeks are clammy with tears.  Heart racing, you rip the blankets off your body and stumble to your feet, the image of Bellamy's dead eyes burning your memory. The image of your mothers corpse sitting, cold in your stomach.  You have to make sure it wasn't real. You have to see Bellamy, you have to look into his eyes and see their usual warmth, their usual soft glow.  You push the door open and almost blindly run down the hall to his room. The moment you reach his door, you push it open, careless of the fact that it's the middle of the night.  His room has a window that casts soft moonlight into the darkness. The door slips shut behind you with a soft thud, but its enough to make Bellamy sit up. You can barely see him, but his silhouette shows signs of a confused, sleepy stupor.  "Clarke?"he asks, his voice rough but his tone concerned. Suddenly the room is filled with light as Bellamy flicks his lamp on. Your heart, which has continued to race beneath your ribcage since you woke up, is soothed by sudden relief. Even in his confused and tired state, you can see the glint in Bellamy's eyes, proving there is life behind them.  The exhausion from the nightmare hits you in a wave of uncontrollable sobs and you drop to your knees. The metal floor is freezing against your bare legs, though thats not why you're shaking. Hot tears drip hastily onto your cheeks and the floor. Your Mom and Bellamy are the two people who you need, whose loss would send you into a state void of life. Bellamy's panicked gasp replays itself in your mind as the memory of the dream begins to properly form. You're no longer mindlessly searching for proof that it was a dream, but the torment  of tonight takes many forms. Now, you have to live with the shadow of your worst fears sitting behind your eyes. You jump when calloused, but gentle hands brush over your shoulders. Bellamy has gotten out of bed and is wrapping his strong, warm arms around you. The stark contrast of his body heat and the freezing air makes you remember that you had stripped down to a singlet and your underwear before getting into bed. The cold, however, has no effect on your face which begins to burn. Bellamy doesn't seem to care that you're almost naked, he pulls you against his body and brushes your hair back from your eyes.  The tears slow and you take a deep, careful breath, focusing on the sound of Bellamy's heart, which beats a little too quickly beneath your head. He slowly runs his fingers through your hair before resting his chin atop your head. He is warm and safe, and despite coming down from your nightmare, soft tendrils of happiness weave slowly around your heart. After a few minutes of peace, of feeling your heart beat gradually shift from painful thudding to gentle fluttering, Bellamy speaks again. "Can you stand?" His voice is still rough from sleep, but its so warm and nice, "it's isn't a good idea to stay here on the floor." You nod against his chest and he stands, before leaning down to help you up.  You wonder, as he looks at you, what tonight must have looked like for him; being woken suddenly as you burst into his room and collapse in a heap on the floor without saying a word.  He looks away suddenly, blushing upon realising his gaze had lingered a little too long. Eyes still averted, he pulls off his t-shirt. Your heart jolts and you catch your breath on the edge of a gasp before he reaches his arm out, handing you the shirt. You look down, remembering your lack of clothing and blush again.  Taking the shirt, you try not to look too much at Bellamy, aware that weeks of fighting has not left him unfit.  /its just Bellamy/ You slip the shirt on and offer him a small smile, which he returns, eyes sparkling. You never want to see his eyes without life in them. /was it ever JUST Bellamy?/ He walks over to his bed and sits on the edge, silently gesturing for you to sit with him.  "You want to tell my why you burst into my room in the middle of the night?" He says with a smirk. You're glad he isn't angry about being woken.  You look up into his eyes. He is so gentle looking in this light, so caring and empathetic and you just /know/ like you always have, that you can trust him. "I had a nightmare" your throat closes as you force its memory to stay out of your mind. "Must have been pretty bad" "Yeah" "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I know what it's like," he says softly, sliding his arm accros your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. You rest your head against his chest, which is now bare, and he scrunches his shirt in his hand on your shoulder. His skin is hot, despite the temperature of the room, and his heart rate still seems quite fast.  "Are you feeling alright Bellamy?" You ask, getting concerned, "you seem like you might have a fever." "What do you mean?" "Your skin is hot and..." you stop yourself, realising that maybe for once, Mr Confidence could simply be flustered. You look up into his eyes, his reddened cheeks. Your eyes catch on his lips for a moment before returning your head to his chest. "If you don't feel sick then you're peobably fine," you say. Your stomach tightens as you remember the way he was looking at you before. If you hadn't been in such a panic, maybe you would have gotten flustered too, at the way he looks without a shirt. You're acutely aware of the way Bellamy Blake makes you feel,has always made you feel. But it's Bellamy, you need him alive, not dead like the others that made your heart race.  Like his is now. He stays quiet. Maybe he's uncomfortable or maybe he's just thinking.  You look over at the clock on his nightstand, which reads 2:20AM.  "I should let you sleep," you say, returning your gaze to his eyes. The corners of his mouth tilt upward, "I'm okay Clarke, really." "I know you haven't been sleeping that well lately..." you pause, hoping you don't sound like a stalker, "nobody has." He holds your gaze and for a moment you feel as though you could look into his eyes forever. The person you see in those eyes means the world to you. He's the only one who understands what its like to make the decisions you've had to make.  "You could stay here, if you like." You immediately feel your heart rate quicken. "Its okay, I'll sleep on the floor," he adds. "The floor's freezing Bellamy." "Well I don't want you to be alone, not after a nightmare like that." You look down at his bed, just big enough for two people, but only if they're pressed together. Part of you longs to fall asleep with his arms around you. He makes you feel safe and warm, he makes you feel happy. /But what if he gets the wrong idea?/ As much as you want to get close to him, you know the risk of losing another person you love would drive you over the edge you're already teetering on.  As you return your eyes to his, however, you realise it may be already too late to reserve your feelings. You need him. You /love/ him.  He is your home, your family, your best friend. You move back on his bed and lift your legs onto the mattress, sliding around so you lie on the far side, against the wall. Bellamy goes to stand up but you catch his arm. "You can fit on here." The emotion in his eyes is so intense that you can't look away, but he does. He looks at his feet, almost like he is embarrassed, but without another word, he lies down next to you. His head turns so he faces you, brown curls almost reaching his eyes. "Feeling any better?" "Yeah. Thanks." He nods a little, flicking the lamp off. You can't help but notice the way the moonlight catches on his skin, highlighting the muscles of his still-shirtless body. A long scar reaches from his shoulder, running alongside his collarbone before curving downward. It looks like the wound was from a sword. Without thinking, you reach over to lightly trace it with your fingers, only realising what you're doing when his body freezes at your touch. You can feel his pulse beneath your fingers, and his breathing is so short it's like he is panicked.  "Sorry, I..." you shrink back a little, pulling your hand away, but he catches it in his. Turning on his side, he entwines his fingers with yours, draping his arm over you so he can pull you close to him. You turn so that his body fits closely around yours and you can feel the heat from his breath on your neck. His heart still races, only slowing gradually, but you notice that your heartrate matches his. In the moment, so much of you wants to turn around and kiss him, to hold his face in your hands, feel his lips against yours, but your afraid of where that might lead and what that would mean. He's just so warm and close and you can barely process his response to being close to you. He's nervous, maybe even afraid like you, but there's more to it. Its as though you both know that in another life you'd have been together for a long time by now. That nagging tightness in your stomach when you're around him, the way you can't pull your eyes from his lips, those signs would have convinced the old you in seconds. And then there's who he is as a person. You've never known someone so protective and strong, yet capable of tenderness and gentleness. Someone so smart and so powerful. His body has relaxed against yours and his breathing has become steady and rhythmic. You can't actually believe that you ended up here, with your closest friend pressed up against you, fast asleep.  You match his breathing until you relax too, until the world blurrs and fades. You wake to the sound of voices outside Bellamy's window. The thin curtain does nothing to obscure the sharp sunlight streaming through. Bellamy still sleeps soundly, still pressed against you, however one of his legs somehow ended up on top of yours. He's so warm and peaceful, it's good to see him getting this rest. Its hard to tell how often he sleeps, but you assume, from the way his head usually droops and his eyes are shadowed that it's not often. You tuck your head back into your shoulder and stare at the wall.  /I won't regret this will I? It doesn't really change anything... does it?/ The voices outside the window return, work for the day seems to have started. Since your speech, Raven has had no trouble getting people motivated. Bellamy starts to shift behind you. He moves his hand, which had remained on your side, to rub the sleep from his eyes. Suddenly, he moves his leg off yours. "Sorry..." he mutters. "Don't worry," you turn to look at him, "sleep well?" "Yeah, actually," he half smiles, sitting up. You sit up aswell pulling your hair into a ponytail, "do you think people will ask questions when they see me leaving your room this morning?" "Hopefully they won't see you,"he says casually, though the morning light doesn't do him any favours in hiding the blush on his cheeks. He looks so cute, with his hair somehow more ruffled than normal and the slightly awkward look he has on his face. You smile at him reassuringly, which causes him to smile back, eyes doing their trademark sparkle.  "Thank you," you say softly, "for being there for me."  His smile softens to something more personal, and he reaches out to brush the stray hair from your face. His hand lingers for a second as he looks into your eyes. You reach up and plant a kiss on his forehead, and when you meet his eyes again you feel like you might start crying or just explode because there is so much emotion there, so much humanity. "I should go." He nods, getting up so you don't have to climb over him. His shirt hangs down a few inches above your knees, the sleeves pretty much at your elbows. You notice him smirking at you when you look up. "Suits you." Part of you wants to make a joke about his bare chest suiting him, but you hold it back, giving him an entertained smile instead.  "Do you have a shirt for yourself?"  "In the laundry" You almost laugh at the fact the he really doesn't own many items of clothing. It's not likely for people to these days, but two shirts? /two?/ You consider giving him back the shirt you're wearing, but making your way back to your room in your underwear, when people are around, just doesn't seem like a good idea.  Before turning to leave, you thank Bellamy again, trying not to get lost in his eyes. He moves closer to you, and as usual, simply being close to him causes your heartrate to rise. You feel tension around him, like the air is hotter and its hard to breathe, but at the same time you feel more alive than anywhere else.  "I... uh..." he pauses, you have no idea where he's going with this. "What?" "I felt something. Last night," he looks as though he doesn't want to admit what he's saying, but maybe keeping it to himself is too hard. "It wasn't unfamiliar but... it felt more real than usual." Part of you wishes you could say you have no idea what he's talking about, part of you wishes you were back in bed, snuggled up to him. You nod a little, speechless in the moment. He has somehow moved closer to you, like always, like its more natural for you to be almost touching.  In a swift, confident move, he leans down and kisses you. His lips are soft and his hands graze your back as he wraps his arms around you. Your run your hand accross his chest, moving from where you can feel his heart (which is racing again), up to where your fingers slide into his curls.  You don't even know what's happening, your brain has no hope of processing the fact that yesterday you were so afraid of your feelings for  Bellamy, yet today... So much has changed. And it all feels natural, the shift from seeing him as a friend to seeing him as something more.  Maybe there was less of a shift than you had anticipated. He pulls his lips from yours, resting against your forehead, breathing slowly.  More and more people are stirring, you know you'll have to move quick or someone will see you in Bellamy's shirt in the hallway. You're not sure why, but what has changed between you two, feels like it should stay between you two. Atleast for now.  "I really have to go," you almost whisper, "I'll get dressed then bring you back your shirt." He straightens up and steps back, nodding. You listen for the hallway to be empty before slipping out the door. Its cold outside of Bellamy's room, the metal floor bites into your feet. Your room is only a couple of meters from his. You quickly check over your shoulder once you reach the door, jumping when you notice someone has seen you.  Harper is standing a few meters away, frozen in confusion, but with a smirk growing on her face. You give a small, embarrassed smile before opening your door and stepping into the safety of your room. You feel heat in your cheeks and hope that maybe you can catch Harper later and ask her politely to keep her mouth shut.  You strip off Bellamy's shirt and get dressed in your own clothes, wishing silently that they smelled of him like his shirt. Maybe one day they will.

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