Title: Down In The Forest
Paring: Bellamy Blake X Reader
Warnings: implied drug/alcohol use, implied sexual content, fluff, angst.
Spoilers: None! This is a Modern AU!
Dedicated to: YourLocalTrashBag who asked for more Bellamy, and I took way too long to answer the request. Please forgive me, Trash Bag!
Author's Note: Please forgive me by using John Murphy as the standard 'bad dude'. I'm so so sorry but I needed to write a bad dude and I know he's had a redemption arc or three. Just...don't hold it against me please.
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The last thing you can remember is the faces of your friends - if you can even call them that - and the way your vision decreased until your mind was spinning. They must have put something in your drink, because bonfire night was never like this before. Instead of camping on the back of John's property, he'd proposed to bring the group out to the national park to stargaze and drink the weekend away, TGIF. Well. A few people John Murphy knew, but you didn't rocked up, and only now you were realising that you'd fallen over, and they'd all left you to freeze out in the autumnal forest surrounding your town.
Reaching to your head, you realise there is blood dried over your forehead, matted into your hair that probably looks like you're a mix between a homeless forest nymph and anxious, reckless young person. But it's then your eyes focus, and you see your fingers are stiff, and cold, and at the tips, turning blue.
"H-help," you croak.
What had they put into your soda? Trying to sit up, you see that your phone in your pocket is smashed, and petty cash ransacked from your wallet. If - when you next see John, you're going to share words.
"Is -," you try and clear your throat, but it hurts. "Is anyone there?"
You hear a crunch of boots, and see an angel. The light is caught between the curls atop his head, a halo of hair, a godsend. The man is wearing the uniform of a national park ranger, no hat, the jacket on his shoulders brown and puffy. He's got a radio, and thick boots and socks and deep brown eyes that look like they can read minds.
"Are you alright there?" He frowns, squatting down to your height. He reaches out, extending two fingers against your wrist, and laughs nervously. "Hey ... you're almost hypothermic there, how about I help you up and take you to the lodge?"
You're in no position to argue, and to be honest, being saved from a certain fate by a cute park ranger seems like the best resolution to the shitty weekend you've had.
"I'm -," you struggle to move your legs, unsure if you've hurt them, or they're just frozen to the ground. "I'm ________."
The park ranger smiles. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ranger Blake. Bellamy." He extends his hand to you as if to shake, but instead, he guides you to stand up. "Wait a second, I'll go grab my cart. Uh, here," he sheds his puffy jacket, and slides it around your shoulders. "That should warm you up."
It does, and before too long, you're both in the lodge. It has been years since you've gone to the national parks, just to be around nature. You used to come with your grandfather, Wilfred, but after he died, there was nobody else in your family who appreciated time spent being at peace. But you can never say that you've had a missing person's poster out about you - because as soon as you're inside the climate-controlled lodge, you see a grey-scale sketch of you and your name, details and such below.
"I'm guessing you're the ________ they've been taking about all over the news?" Ranger Blake points to the poster, returning to you with an armful of blankets, helping arrange them around you. "Local news is having a field day trying to find you."
You chuckle. "And to think, if anyone knew the secret to being popular, people would go missing all the time!" You joke, and pausing to cough, you add, "I can't really remember - it's Saturday today, isn't it?"
He shakes his head. "That's not what the calendar says," he nods to the wall, where it surely does say Monday. "That's why it's a big deal, you were missing for over forty-eight hours."
Sitting wrapped in the blankets like an igloo of warmth, you're stunned. "I was out with my friend -," you stop, remembering that no matter how cute the park ranger is, if you name your friends they will get in trouble. "Friends. We just wanted to stargaze, but people I didn't know came, and they must have put something in my drink. Was I drugged?" You ask him.
Ranger Bellamy Blake puts up two hands in surrender. "I'm not sure, but before I give you anything to drink, we'd better get you out of those clothes, and bag them up in case, for tests." He gives you an apologetic look, and digging around in the draw below the phone, finds an oversized park ranger tee, and a pair of track pants. "Just in case. I've called you an ambulance, and the number on the poster," He adds.
You nod. "You talked to my Aunt?" You ask, taking the clothes from him. "I bet she was pissed off, she hates getting calls." You realise what you just said, and add, "I mean, she's not a cheerful person."
Bellamy agrees. "She was kind of pissed off. They'll all be here in a minute," he takes a moment to breathe, and adds, "I'm sorry, but ... I have a feeling I know you." His eyes take you in, trying to read you, but you're not a billboard, or an open book. You're just .... you. Ordinary you. "You didn't go to the Ark High School, did you?"
You laugh. "Everyone around here went there," you nod, and add, "Graduated last year. I'm just going to change..." Ranger Bellamy nods, and turns around to face the opposite way to give you your privacy. If there was anything wrong with the lodge, it was that the loos were outside, and there was never a decent Wi-Fi connection. "You?"
From where he's standing, you hear him make a noise. "Uh, a few years ago. My sister's still in there, Octavia Blake?" You can't help but remember the rebel Octavia who did all she could to cut loose and as many classes to run through the forest in school hours. "I think the ambulance is here, do you need help walking out -," he turns around, seeing as you pull down the last of the shirt over your chest. You can't help but blush, feeling the first hints of colour return to your otherwise frozen face. "Sorry."
You shake your head, hearing the oncoming stampede of emergency services entering the lodge. "It's okay, really. Thanks for uh, saving my life."
Bellamy's face turns red. "I'm just doing my job, _______."
Flash forward four weeks, and you're just coming back from the last checkup at the hospital, those doctors doing all they can to make sure you're alive and not back in the national park, freezing your ass out in the pre-winter months. They're also draining your savings account dry, what, with healthcare. You've not talked to the guys who crash the party, and you're yet to confront them, but to be completely honest, you can't care less. If they hasn't talked to you since letting happen, he and his friends can go right to hell.
You're running an errand for your aunt at the supermarket when you quite literally run into a guy, dropping your bag, and the things he had in his arms over the linoleum. But, of all people, it's Bellamy Blake, the park ranger who saved your life.
"I am so sorry," you feel your face heat up, and dive down to help pick up the spilt items. "I've got a lot on my mind, I wasn't looking where I was going -,"
He shakes his head. "You don't need to apologise, _______. Just a mistake."
"I guess," You nod, but before he can interrupt, you blurt out, "Do you drink coffee?"
Bellamy stills, looking into your eyes. They're a brown-green and read you like a novel that's got a worn down spine and has been read all too many times, but somehow -- somehow -- he's reading the right subtext, understanding what the book is about. Unlike any other person who's looked at you before. Or, he's just staring at you, and you're just two idiots kneeling on the dirty floor of supermarket and you're reading into it too much. But still. He's looking at you.
"You know what, I do. You free next Wednesday afternoon?" He asks, his mouth quirking into a cute grin. "I have the afternoon off, and I know a great cafe in the next town over."
You beam, "Sounds like a plan, Blake."