Hey, it's Alethea! So, I just started watching The 100 (only in season 2, so no spoilers, guys), but there wasn't nearly enough Linctavia. In my story, Lincoln never becomes a Reaper, but other than that, just read the story and find out!

It's basically just Linctavia. Just a lot of Linctavia. You cannot have too much Linctavia. I go through my shows with salt shakers of my OTPs and just go, "I'm gonna put a little here, and a little here, and oh god, this episode doesn't have nearly enough, i'm gonna put an assload there!"

Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to favorite, follow, and review!

I wait until Bellamy falls asleep (or disappears into his tent with a girl on his arm, but he's not paying attention to me, so same difference) before I pack a small satchel with some food, all things that'll keep in Lincoln's cave, because I've been taking him food since my brother pushed a screw through his hand and he can't currently hunt. It's surprisingly easy to get out of the camp once Bellamy is otherwise occupied since he's the one who's constantly peering over my shoulder, always trying to protect me.

When I was younger, I loved that, cause Mom never paid as much attention to me as I always wished, and of course I've never met my father, but Bell was always there. Always reading to me, smuggling me food from the dining hall, tucking me into the bed we shared.

But now I want to see Lincoln, and with Bellamy always hovering in that annoying parent way, it's very hard to sneak anyway, especially to see my forbidden Grounder boyfriend. I've already been to see him twice already, and he taught me to fish, and tell what plants are edible and which ones aren't.

It's not that far through the woods, and Lincoln's started leaving me trails of flowers, white lilies because those were my mother's favorite flowers. Apparently, my father gave her one when they first met, after he'd smuggled it out of the greenhouses. Technically, the flowers we grow are only for funerals, to honor the dead, but they're still beautiful. So since they were Mom's favorite flower, she gifted it to me as one of the only things she ever gave me, a middle name.

I told Lincoln that, and he really warmed to the idea, picking possibly hundreds of the beautiful white flowers.

"You're early," Lincoln says quietly as I slip into his cave.

"Oh, come on! I was so quiet, how did you hear that?" I whine, continuing towards him. "And I know I'm early. Bellamy and his girl of the night, Marissa, retired early tonight."

Lincoln and I haven't 'retired'. We've kissed, but that's it because, though I'm definitely curious and almost ready to sleep with him, I'm not quite there. He hasn't brought it up, though, so that's a relief.

I'm still getting used to kissing; touching my lips to someone else's then pulling away to taste real Earth air. I'm still getting used to being free. I went from under a floorboard inside a metal box that I wasn't allowed to leave to a bottom bunk inside a metal box that I wasn't allowed to leave. I spent fifteen years going to sleep staring at a metal ceiling (when my mother was home, however rarely, I had to sleep in the floor so that if there was an emergency and someone burst in without knocking, I wouldn't be found), and then another full year of going to sleep staring at a metal bedframe.

But now I sleep under the stars. Everyone else is in their tents, but I'm on a blanket watching the ark glow in the dark sky.

Now, I'm looking at the glow of the fire in Lincoln's cave.

He hugs me, pressing his lips to mine gently. Lincoln's not a very vocal guy, so mostly I chatter and he offers helpful insight, but he seems to crave physical contact, so we have that instead of lengthy conversations. I love that Lincoln listens, cause growing up, I only had two people to listen to me, and only one of them was actually listening, but now Lincoln is, and it's so comforting.

"I wanted to show you something," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. I let him take my hand silently and guide me to the fur in front of the fire. He sits down, his back to the wall, and I make myself comfortable in his lap. He gets his notebook, the one with all the pictures he draws, and puts it in my lap. He flips through till he gets to a beautiful portrait of three people. "That's my family."

"Oh!" I observe them. It's a mother and a father and a little boy of about ten, labelled with their names. "The little one's you?"

He nods. "That's my mother, Ezmia, and my father, George. The Everards."

"That's your last name?" I say, to ask the obvious yet again. "I guess I never really imagined you having a last name. Lincoln Everard. It sounds nice."

"So does Octavia Lily Blake." He flips to the next page. "And this is your family."

It's me, in the clothes I was wearing when I landed, every individual strand of my hair done in a feathery stroke, flowing down my shoulders. Bellamy is next to me, grumpy as ever, but a small smile threatening to emerge. Behind us, her hands on both our shoulders, is my mother. Lincoln's drawn her to be me, just older, her lips a little thinner, her eyes a little dulled, her hair, which is the same black as mine, pinned up on her head.

"Thank you," I gasp, moving my head from the crevasse between Lincoln's head and his shoulders to meet his eyes. "It's beautiful. And how'd you get us all so right?"

"I observed." He's quiet again before he closes the notebook. We just sit in the quiet for several seconds before he kisses my cheek softly. "It's easy to observe you because I never get sick of looking at you."

"Ah, a poet as well as an artist," I reply, blushing. Then it's silence again. Neither of us are very talkative today. "Lincoln?"

"Yes, Octavia?" He told me last time that he loves saying my name, and I love when he says it.

"I love you," I tell him. I've never loved anyone before, not like this. Not Atom, not Jasper, not Avery, and that's all the boys I've ever kissed. But Lincoln…I love Lincoln. He makes me feel happy, safe, but free at the same time.

He's quiet, contemplating that for a second before he replies, "I love you, too, Octavia kom shaikru."

I smile, repeating it, "Octavia kom shaikru. I like that."

"And I like you." He rubs the bare skin between my jeans and my black t-shirt. I can feel the swirl of his fingerprint as his fingers move up my stomach gently. "Octavia?"

He's asking if this is ok. And it is. "Mhm."

I turn and kiss him before taking the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head.

I'm Octavia kom shaikru, and I'm free to do whatever the hell I want.

-I'm still learning the characters, but let me know what you think, or any developments you want to see. Favorite, follow, and review!