Octavia Blake / M. Avgeropoulos Oneshots

The Cerberus Project (part 1) - Octavia Blake

Requested by @KiraWallenstein (absolute great idea, by the way)

You're captured by Mount Weather and forced to endure the pain and trauma of transitioning into a Reaper, but fight at all cost to return back to camp —back to Octavia.

Season: 1
Spoilers: yes, for season 2

Word Count: 1,093

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  Your heart thumped rapidly between your rib cage as you desperately tried to control your breathing. Snapping your e/c eyes closed, you leaned the back of your head against the —recently built— structure your back's on.

  The squishing of mud under boots caused your eyes to snap open. You counted the seconds between their steps as you peeled around the mostly wooden structure. Inhaling a final breath, you jumped in front of them, your hands raised up like claws.

  "RAWWWHH!!"

  Octavia's green eyes widened as she jumped clear out of her skin, grabbing the attention of every delinquent in camp within ear shot of her shriek. Immediately, you're hunched over, laughing hysterically.

  She punched your bare shoulder while your laughter carried all through camp, earning odd looks from some while most delinquents rolled their eyes. "Stop doing that! You scared the hell out of me," Octavia sighed, catching her breath.

  Bellamy chuckled, approaching you and Octavia. "Got you again, huh?" he asked Octavia.

  "I got her so good," you replied, having sobered up long enough to say those words before you're in fits of laughter all over again. Octavia groaned dramatically loud, causing you to laugh to the point tears started to run down your cheeks. "Thanks—" you broke out in laughs again then quickly turned your laughter into small gasps of air to stop it, "—Thanks for the tip, Bellamy."

  Octavia's perfectly arched brows raised in disbelief, seeming betrayed. "You helped her?"she pointed from her brother to you. Bellamy could only innocently shrug, you and him sharing the same innocent smile: his through the small upturn of his lips, and you through the grin you managed to suppress from your previous fits of laughter. Octavia scoffed, "Unbelievable .  .  ."

  "You know," you flickered your gaze to Bellamy, "after all this Grounder stuff is over, you and me gotta have some sort of friendly competition of pranks and jump scares. Doubles and team matches. But I call Raven and Jasper!"  

  Octavia's brows scrunched as she held both of her hands out at her sides, palms turned to the afternoon sky. "What about me?"

  You cupped one of her cheeks and patted it, "Don't worry, baby Blake—" She swatted your hand.

  Bellamy smiled at the interaction between y'all before he nodded at your suggestion, "Alright." The grip on his rifle loosened, "You're on. Us—" he gestured to his sister, "— and Monty, against you, Raven and Jasper."

  You smirked mischievously, excitement coursing through your veins. "Bring it."

  "Not if I kick your ass first," Octavia said, unamused by your infamous pranks and jump scares you've been pulling upon landing. You gave light to an otherwise horror of a situation the Ark thrust you and your fellow delinquents in.

  Your eyes lit up as you met Octavia's gaze, "Is that a challenge? You know I like to push your buttons."

  Octavia rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless while Bellamy awkwardly cleared his throat before quietly excusing himself —neither of you acknowledged him. "I know. I'll give you a five minute head start."

  "Ooooo .  .  ." you drawled teasingly, your lips matching Octavia's smirk. "What's the occasion?"

  "Don't push it."

  Your eyes widened in a playful manner as your facial features scrunched before you're halfway across camp. Sprinting and dodging the working delinquents, you're laughing the entire time and nearly ran directly into Monty and Jasper, who said they'd help you and distract Octavia.

  Thanking them, you disappear behind Monty's moonshine shack, observing camp for any possible hiding places Octavia hadn't discovered yet. Raven's tent was a no-go —too obvious. And the dropship's even more obvious.

  You glanced over your shoulder, instantly looking through a crack in the wall. Then, a light bulb flickered to life in your head. It'd take Octavia a lot longer to find you and, metaphorically, kick your ass.

  A sudden wave of nerves hit. You'd only ever been beyond the tall walls with Octavia. Swallowing the nervousness in your dry throat, you followed the wall until you found a gap between two of the walls.

  Squeezing through the gap, you entered forest then quickly sprinted away. Jumping over logs, dodging trees and rocks until you could barely breath seemed far enough. Finally stopping, you smiled and seated yourself on the ground against one of the trees, scanning the forest behind you toward camp —in case Octavia came earlier than expected— as you caught your breath.

  A twig snapped.

  You reeled your head in front of you, the direction it came from. But nothing was there. Brushing it off as an animal, you merely shrugged and ignored it.

  Another few minutes ticked by before more twigs snapped, this time closer.

  Your heart raced a million miles-a-second. You slowly stood, gripping the tree for stability as you warily checked your surroundings. Maybe it's Octavia coming to find you? But none of it added up. Why would Octavia be coming from that direction? Camp's behind you, not in front. And the butterfly field is roughly to your right.

  "Octavia?" No answer. Sighing, you inched closer to where the twigs snapped, your hands leaving the safety of the park on the tree. "Octavia?" you called louder, but still .  .  . silence. "Octavia, this isn't funny anymore."

The low hanging branches of smaller trees and nearby bushes rustled and whooshed. Maybe it was a rabbit?

"Octavia . . . ?" your voice trembled. "Octavia, please stop. You're scaring me."

The small, not-so-thick bush swayed. You snapped your head to it and shrieked in fear. You quickly backed away but are immediately going in a new direction when another popped out, screeching.

White covered their faces and exposed bodies, while blood mixed in and covered their clothes and dripped from their mouths. They looked like Grounders but looked scarier and deadlier, they seemed.

Six surrounded you: some crouched on all fours while some slouched and some stood more composed and threatening, but they all held weapons. Grounder weapons, you realized.

Your eyes travelled to one crouched in front of you. His head twisted from side-to-side, his emotionless, dead eyes deciding on the next move. He screeched and the last thing you saw were his blood-stained teeth baring in your face as a hard object made contact with your head.

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