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octannibal-blake · 7 years

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Halloween party with the gang! Bellamy and Clarke aren't exactly friends, but he/she can't deny she/he looks great in her/his costume this year...

aw thanks for the prompt, kat! lmao this got sooo long and i apologize ahead of time. i’m not sure if this is what you intended but this is where i ended up – i may have watched how i met your mother and the slutty pumpkin episode before this so…i blame that. anyways, i hope it’s enjoyable!

and so, we meet again

2013

It is onHalloween night that Bellamy decides he’s moved in to the worst apartmentcomplex ever. He’s sitting on his couch, perfectly content to write his essayin peace and drink shitty beer. He hates this stupid holiday, always has, andwould rather pretend that it’s just another day. Instead, he hears a knock onhis window and turns around defensively, poised to break the glass bottle overthe intruder’s head. Turns out, it’s just a pirate. Or his neighbor, dressed asa pirate, rather.

“Someone’sjumpy,” Nathan Miller comments, holding his hand (one actual hand, and one fakehook) up in surrender, “Chill, dude.”

He setsthe bottle down on the table with a deep breath, “Do you make it a habit toenter other people’s apartments unannounced?”

Miller shrugs,“Isn’t that kind of the point of sharing a fire escape?”

Bellamyrolls his eyes. He only moved into this apartment over the summer. His sisterjust began her first semester of college at NYU and he has been finishing hisMaster’s degree at Columbia (honestly, thank God both of them are smart becausethey couldn’t just afford this kind of education on their own). They decided torent an apartment in the city, thanks to a heft amount of help from theirgrandparents and working full time at the pub in the basement. The day theymoved in, they met their neighbors. Nathan Miller, the broody full-timemechanic and his boyfriend, Monty. The IT guy. That’s how Miller introducedhim, anyways.

“Let’sgo,” Miller gestures and begins to move back out the window. Bellamy doesn’tfollow. He might like his neighbors, and sure they’ve had a few nights inplaying Mario Kart on the 64, but now he comes in dressed as a pirate and justtells Bellamy to follow him? Sounds sketchy.

“Where?”

Millerstops and turns around dramatically and holds up his hook hand, “Costume party.On the roof. It’s an annual thing. Everybody in the building goes.”

“Nothanks,” he responds.

Tenminutes later he’s on the damn roof, music blaring out of someone’s ownpersonal amp and chatter filling the empty space. It’s a very well put togetherparty and it does seem like everyone in the building is in attendance – heshouldn’t be surprised. It’s a cheap complex close to college campus. Brokecollege students fill most of the rooms and this is very much the kind ofthings college kids would do. Unless you’re Bellamy, because fuck Halloween.

He sipsfrom his drink stoically, rolling his eyes at some of the costumes. Some ofthem are pretty typical – he’s seen multiple Avenger’s costumes. Plenty of sexynurses (which, he is absolutely not opposed to). He isn’t the kind of guy todress up, though. It’s just lucky that he happened to be wearing a t-shirt thatsays “costume” when Miller basically drug him from his apartment.

“Nicecostume,” a voice enters into his dramatic reverie. Next to him, a blondeprincess is filling her cup with the shitty vodka punch. She adjusts her tiaraas it begins to fall off her head and looks up at him with a smirk. She makesno movement to leave, just leans against the table and gives him a solid onceover. Apparently, she does not appreciate his t-shirt and jeans.

“Not intocostume parties?” she asks.

He shrugs,“Not into Halloween.”

This makesher roll her eyes at him, “Wow, you’re one of those people.”

One of thosepeople? He glares at her for a moment, “If one of those people means notwanting to contribute to a stupid holiday, then yeah, I am.”

“What’snot to like! Free candy. An excuse to dress up. Big parties?” the Princessseems to very much into Halloween, her costume speaking volumes. And she soundslike he had been personally attacking her when he said he didn’t like it. He’sentitled to an opinion.

“Overpriced candy, expensive outfits you only wear once, and not to mention some ofthose outfits appropriate multiple cultures and are thinly veiled racism,” hepoints out. He’s put a lot of thought into this over the years. Everythingabout Halloween is annoying and overrated.

“Wow,” shebreathes out, clearly surprised by his passionate answer, “You really have alot of feelings about this.”

“I’m justa realist,” he shrugs again, “This punch is terrible.”

“I canagree with that,” she says before making a show of chugging her own cup, “Butit tastes better the drunker you are.”

He getsanother cup. The Princess makes no show of going away to enjoy the dance flooror the free candy offered. Instead she remains at the drink table with him and somehow,they end up talking about extremely…intense topics. She’s in nursing schooland apparently, hates every minute of it. He tells her about failing his lastexam because he was working too many hours at the bar. It becomes a bitpessimistic at times. She decides to change the subject before he does.

“I knowit’s a mask,” she says after spotting a ridiculous Barack Obama costume, “Butit feels wrong to dress up as the President. Like they’re trying to insulthim.”

“Would yousay the same if someone came dressed as George Bush?” he asks, and not evenbecause he disagrees with her. But mostly because she looks really cute the wayher cheeks are flushed and her hands a flailing around trying to explain ethicsto him.

“I wouldprobably feel differently about that,” she points to the Obama mask wearingoffender, “If it wasn’t a white person.”

He liftshis cup to her, “Touché.”

He decideshe likes this Princess, even if she is a Halloween supporter. She’s got spunk.She’s feisty and she’s making the party somewhat bearable. Yet, somehow, onlyan hour has passed at the drink table before her phone goes off.

“I gottarun,” she says downing the rest of her drink and tossing the cup in the trash,“But thanks for entertaining me. Do you still hate Halloween?”

“That’snot changing,” he responds immediately. She only grins at that.

“Oh, Ithink it will.”

2014

He findsthat he really likes his apartment. Miller becomes one of his closest friend, asort of friendship he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Not since Raven Reyesdecided to go be an engineer at some prestigious college on the coast. Heenjoys having Miller around and even Monty has made an effort to includeBellamy in his D&D group. It’s not something he thought he would enjoy butactually, he loves it. Octavia stays pretty busy with school and hasn’t beenhome much, so he’s been forced to occupy his time with other things. Nerdythings, as his sister called them. He doesn’t really care. He feels like he’sfinding a home at this place.

They go tothe rooftop again for Halloween this year and he isn’t forced this time. Millerand Monty go as two video game characters he’s never heard of, which is verythem, and he keeps his costume. Miller rolls his eyes at the familiar oranget-shirt but doesn’t make him change. That’s a true friend. When they arrive,there are a few more people than last year and there seems to be two speakersinstead of one. They’re trying to make it a bit more exciting, according toMonty, but Bellamy thinks it’s just right.

He mightbe down to party, he still hates this holiday and probably will until the dayhe dies. Seriously, what was the fucking point of it? He leaves his friends tograb a drink and though he remembers how disgusting the punch was last year, hestill pours himself a cup. Yep, just as disgusting.

“Niceoutfit,” is how it starts once again. He turns to find the princess once againpouring herself a drink. It takes him a moment to recognize her, she’s got abrown wig twisted on the side of her head. Princess Leia. How original.

“I couldsay the same to you,” he comments with a scoff. She moves next to him, thewhole things feeling very much like a routine between the two of them despitebeing strangers. He hadn’t seen her since last Halloween. He figured she musthave moved on with her life, whatever that may be. Apparently, she just makes appearancesat the Halloween party.

“PrincessLeia is a badass,” she defends, and the spell begins again. He isn’t sure whatit is about her. She has a way of making him feel as though they’re old friendscatching up – she updates him a nursing school and he tells her about finishingundergrad and completing his Master’s. She tells him about wanting to be anartist but being pressured into nursing. He tells her about raising his sister.It’s all pretty fucking ridiculous considering he doesn’t even know her name.

“You wannadance?” she asks during a comfortable silence between them. Normally, he wouldsay no. But he finds himself nodding and following her to the dance floor.

“You a fanof Halloween yet?” she asks as he twirls her around to the sounds of MonsterMash.

“Hell no,”he responds, “You’ll have to try a little harder, Princess.”

She smirksat that, “Did you not get to trick or treat as a kid?”

He dipsher and she giggles, “Not really. Not a great neighborhood for getting candy.Might end up with a bag of meth instead.”

He doesn’tmean to get all serious. He’s just being honest. His mom worked hard to providefor them but they didn’t grow up in a great area. Not the kind of place to hangout and play baseball outside or anything. He’s okay with that. But she giveshim a pitying look and he lets go of her hand.

“I didn’tsay it to make you feel bad for me,” he grumbles defensively, and he’ssurprised when she gives him a soft smile.

“Oh, Idon’t,” she reassures him and he can’t help but feel a bit confused. Shesmiles, “I just think it’s all the more reason for you to give Halloween achance now that you’re older.”

Hechuckles at that, “You’re awfully determined.”

“This ismy favorite holiday.”

“We allhave our flaws,” he responds, and she gives him a playful shove and he grabsher hand. For a moment things are silent and he feels a magnetic pull towardsher. Something about her intrigues him and okay, she’s beautiful with herexpressive blue eyes and soft smile. Just as his lips brush against hers, herphone rings. She jumps back and stares at the screen, something changing in herface. She looks almost…sad.

“I have totake this,” she says apologetically. Before he can question her any further,she disappears.

Shedoesn’t come back.

2015

He findshimself choosing to celebrate Halloween, or rather, choosing to celebrate onbehalf of someone else. Gina, his girlfriend, had been adamant about doingsomething fun for the holiday. She likes dressing up and having a good time andhell, he doesn’t want to be the one to stop her. So, rather than go out andspend money he doesn’t have at some bar, he figured the rooftop party would bejust the place.

It’s moreof a spectacle this year. Some of the residents of the complex created acommittee to help spruce it up and when he arrives, it’s a vast difference fromthe past small soirees. There are lights strung up around the roof top, morepatio furniture had been added. There’s a DJ (though it’s just Monty’s friendJasper who also plays D&D on Wednesdays). There also seems to be morepeople, but this has it’s perks. Instead of cheap beer and shitty punch thereis more variety at the drink table. There are bottles and bottles of liquorfollowed by liters of soft drinks. Part of him thinks having a table to mixyour own drinks is an awful idea, but he plans on standing guard at the drinktable, anyway.

“Let’sdance!” Gina pleads with him when they arrive. The music is loud and pop-y andthe dance floor is littered with awful costumes and awkward people. He wouldrather stab out his eyes.

“Mybrother doesn’t dance,” Octavia says from behind them and when he turns around,he’s ready to have an aneurysm. She’s wearing an intricate bathing suit topwith a long, green sequined skirt. She has scales painted on her face. Afucking mermaid.

“When didyou pierce your belly button?” is all he can say, hating the silver piece ofjewelry currently dangling from her navel. She’s an adult, he knows that, butit’s still his baby sister and Jesus, isn’t she cold?!

“Come on,Gina,” Octavia rolls her eyes and pulls his girlfriend to the dance floor. Hestomps his way to the drink table because, yeah, it’s going to be a long night.

He decidesto start off with a Jack and Coke, because the old legends say drinking beerfirst thing is the sure way to get sick. And, okay, he’s tested that theorybefore and it is definitely accurate. He takes his spot next to the drink tableand tries to take a drink, unsuccessfully, when his ears nearly fall of hishead. Stupid costume.

“Niceoutfit,”

He turns automatically to have his suspicionsconfirmed. The Princess stands before him, pouring her drink and grinning athim like an idiot as she takes in his costume. Gina had really insisted ondressing up for this and honestly, he really wants to make her happy becauseshe’s a cool chick and he likes her a lot. So when she suggested they go asbugs bunny and Lola bunny, he wasn’t really against it. He likes Space Jam andit’s a simple costume. So he let her order a pair of bunny ears for him and lethe glue a tail to a pair of his old basketball shorts. He’s a good boyfriend.

He’s aboutto bite out a “thanks” when he notices what she’s wearing. There is no wig. Notiara. Instead her blonde hair is all natural, cut just below the chin and hereffort in a costume minimal this year. His jaw snaps shut when he reads theorange t-shirt she’s wearing. It reads, “Costume”.

“Veryfunny,” he deadpans, and it only causes her to grin in triumph.

“Thanks,”she laughs, “For the inspiration, I mean. I’m someone who hates Halloween.”

“Yeah,” herolls his eyes, “I got that.”

“Youshould be flattered,” she says as though it’s obvious, “I couldn’t have donethis without you.”

“Thanksfor the credit.”

It’sstrange how they fall into an easy conversation after that, like last year theyhadn’t been about to make out on the dance floor and she hadn’t justdisappeared. He had thought about her for weeks after that, tempted to try andfind her one way or the other. But then he met Gina and he pushed all thoughtsof the Princess away from his mind. Until now, as she stands before him in acostume influenced by his dry humor and pessimism. He can’t help but feel alittle flattered, after all.

She askshim about his year and he tells her all the fine details, issues in hisdepartment at school and getting offered to study abroad for a semester. That’ssomething he hadn’t even told Gina but with her, it comes out like it’s no bigdeal. She congratulates him on the opportunity and tells him about her ownexperience – she’s a nurse and got the opportunity to go to the Caribbean tohelp in the aftermath of a natural disaster. Talking to her makes him feel likehe’s talking to a figment of his imagination. It’s easy to get lost and that’s prettydamn scary.

He doesn’teven notice when Gina comes up behind him.

“Bell?”she asks warily, looking between him and the Princess uncomfortably. He givesher a reassuring smile.

“Hey,” heputs an arm around her and she melts into him immediately, “I was just talkingabout you.”

Mostlyabout how scared he is to tell her about being away for three months, butstill. He doesn’t want her to feel neglected or anything. He likes her. A lot.

“You wannaget out of here?” Gina asks leaning into him, her breath hot on his neck. Helooks over her head for a moment to at least say goodbye to the Princess, maybeeven get her name because now she knows a little too much about him. But she’sgone already, having slipped away as Gina rolled into them. He turns hisattention back to his girlfriend and gives her soft kiss.

“Sure.”

2016

“I cameall the way here to go to this stupid rooftop party, so you’re going to takeme!”

RavenReyes is a lot of things. A spitfire, for one, ready to kick any and everyone’sass at any given moment. She’s also demanding, something he learned early on intheir friendship to deal with. Except today. Because he’s really not in thefucking mood.

“Go withOctavia,” he mutters under his breath, clicking into the next episode of NewGirl without a second thought. It’s once again his least favorite holiday andhe had a really shitty day at work. It’s his first semester as a teacher at thehigh school and the kids were extra rambunctious today. He’s got one hell of aheadache.

“Bellamy,get your ass up and let’s go,” she yanks the remote from his hand and begins topull on his arms, “You can wear your stupid ironic t-shirt for all I care,we’re going.”

He findshimself on the roof again. It’s been a year of ups and downs for him. Hestudied abroad in Greece, which has to be the highlight because it is probablythe second best experience of his life (the first being when he held his babysister for the first time – he’s a sap and he doesn’t care). He graduated withhis Master’s in history and had just begun his first teaching gig. On thedownside, Octavia moved in with her boyfriend, Lincoln, and he had to paydouble the rent for almost three months before finding a new roommate. His nameis John Murphy and he’s almost positive he’s a sociopath, but a cool sociopathonce you get to know him. Gina also broke up with him about three weeks beforehe left for his trip. Long distance wasn’t really her thing. He doesn’t blameher.

Ravendecided to come visit him for the first time in two years, mostly because sheand her boyfriend just broke up and she needed time away. But also because shemissed him and he had been in a foul mood for the past few months and neededcheering up.

He makeshis way to the drink table and takes up his usual post after introducing Ravento all the regulars. When he introduces her to Luna, his downstairs neighbor,well, it’s all over from there. He doesn’t see Raven again that night. Butthat’s not the part that bothers him. He spends over an hour at the drink tableand she never shows. The princess who copied his costume and who learned hisdeepest secrets before his fucking name. He thought maybe this would become athing. Like maybe she’s supposed to show up and talk him through his crisisevery Halloween. It’s a stupid expectation. Hell, he’s not even positive she’sreal.

Hefinishes four drinks before giving up and going home. Fuck Halloween.

2017

“Pleasewear it!”

He staresat the offending garment like he’s hoping to burn a hole through it,“Absolutely not.”

“You’lllook so hot!”

“Ew,please don’t ever say that again.”

Ravenhuffs at her roommate. He’s being stubborn, he knows that, but she knows how hefeels about costumes and she’s trying to force him to be part of a groupcostume which is just…it’s fucking cheesy.

“Please!”she begs, adjusting her own pink jackets as she pulls her hands together in aplea, “Even Murphy is doing it! Emori!”

She wantshim to dress up as one of the guys from Grease, leather jacket, hair gel, andtight pants. It’s a bit over the top if you ask him. He hates it. He shouldhave known this is how things would go when she moved in – what Raven wants,Raven gets. After last year, she decided to move to New York to be closer toher friends. She’d never admit it, but he also thinks it has something to dowith Luna. The two aren’t official by any means, but they spend a lot of timetogether. Raven says she isn’t into labels, so whatever, but he knows the girlcares about her.

“I don’tremember ever saying I would be a part of this, you just signed me up,” hepoints out. She had brought it to him as soon as he got home from work. She didhappen to catch him a good day, mostly because there were no students at work(it was an in-service day which meant he had a quiet classroom all to hisself). But going as the cast of Greaseis a sure way of bringing his good mood down.

“We’re alldoing it,” she argues again, “Besides, this is going to be the biggest partyyet! Miller is proposing to Monty!”

He knowsthis. Miller has already been to his apartment to freak out on numerousoccasions. They’ve been dating for almost seven years but only recently hasmarriage been legalized in all fifty states and they feel comfortable enough todo it. He’s happy for them and they honestly make him believe that love doesexist – they’re a good match and he knows how happy Monty makes him.

“I’m notdoing it.”

Thirtyminutes later, he finds himself on the fucking roof again with the leatherjacket slung over his shoulders. Raven can be very persuasive. They’re standingin the group and he realizes how much thought Raven really did put into this.Everyone is here and dressed up – Murphy and Emori, Octavia and Lincoln, Millerand Monty. Hell, even Luna came dressed as a Pink Lady.

“Where thehell is Clarke?” Raven hisses to Luna when she arrives. He has no idea whoClarke is, but Raven has already made more friends in her short time here thanhe has since he moved in. So, no surprises there.

“She’salways late, you know that,” Luna rolls her eyes, “She’ll be here.”

“Yo,Danny,” Raven calls and it takes him a moment to realize she’s talking to him,“Go grab me a beer.”

“I’m sorry,are you incapable?” he snaps and runs a hand through his hair, only for hisfingers to get stuck in the hair gel.

She flipshim the finger and he shuffles over to the table. Not because she told him too,he was already going to come here. He’ll just be nice and grab her a beer whilehe’s over here. Because he’s polite. And definitely not because she told himto. He reaches into the cooler to dig around for his favorite – he’s stickingto beer tonight. He has to teach in the morning.

He feels afamiliar pull and knows she’s there before she speaks.

“Wow,” shesays as he stands up, the buckles of his jacket clanking together, “Niceoutfit.”

He turnsslowly and before he can control it, his jaw opens slightly. It’s the Princess,alright, except she isn’t a princess at all. She’s dressed in a tight blackbody suit, and it’s clinging to every luscious curve of her body, paired with aleather jacket eerily similar to his own. He’s seen Grease enough time torecognize a Sandy when he sees one. He practically chokes on air. He looks overhis head to see the others watching him and Raven is looking extremely smugwhich makes him think she had something to do with this. He has no idea how shecould know, or how she could possibly be involved. But if anybody could figureit out, it’s her.

“I’mLuna’s roommate,” she seems to read his mind and she extends her hand with ahalf-smile, “Clarke Griffin.”

“Youweren’t here last year,” he says stupidly. He should introduce himself.Compliment her outfit because, damn. But all he can think about is that shewasn’t here last year.

She dropsher hand and glances down at her feet sheepishly, “I was working. New nursesalways have to work holidays.”

“Oh,” heresponds and still can’t figure out what to say. She’s been living in thisbuilding the whole time and he never once ran into her? She never tried to findhim despite their almost hook up two three years ago? Holy shit this has beengoing on that long?

“I guessthis is as weird for you as it is for me?” she asks, “I can leave, if you want.I know we’ve kind of been like…weirdly intimate but don’t really know eachother? And, honestly, I gave up when you showed up with a girlfriend but nowyou’re here and Raven said you’re single and you look really hot in thatcostume…”

It’s thisprecise moment that his brain actually decides to function and he laughs,watching as this girl he’s been dancing around for four years on the same dayrambles away about their strange relationship and admittedly having a crush onhim, similar to the way he’s felt about her. She’s been sort of his own littletradition – like every Halloween he goes to the roof to talk to this mysteriousgirl about all the things he was afraid to admit outloud to everyone else. Andshe’s fucking real and standing in front of him in a matching costume because,surpise, she actually knows his friends and lives two floors below him. Whatare the fucking odds.

He’shaving a hard time processing it all and wants to claim insanity when he slidesa hand into her thick curls and surges forward to kiss her. She stiffens and hepulls away, heart pounding in his chest and feeling completely disoriented.

“Shit,that was weird,” he panics, “I’m Bellamy. But you probably already know thatand…God, I’m sorry.”

She laughsthen, sweet and shy as her eyes search his own frantic ones, “No offense,Bellamy, but we’ve been talking for four years. Aren’t you tired?”

Shedoesn’t need to ask twice. He kisses her again and faintly hears the PinkLadies and the T-birds in the background hooting and hollering in theirapproval. It’s bizarre. But Halloween is a bizarre holiday and honestly, hemight not hate it so much after all.

#liz answers #my writing #bellarke fanfiction #halloween au #bellarke prompt fill #im sorry #idk how good this is but i loved the idea lol

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sparklyfairymira · 7 years

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So what would an angel say (The devil wants to know)

So here is another request fill for @bellarkepromptfills. This is probably the longest oneshot that I have personally ever written and as most of my stories are, it is smut filled. Please let me know what you think and I’m am taking prompt requests on my personal tumblr as well here! As always, a huge shout out to my lovely beta @loveyoubeyondhope, because without her help this would be so much harder to read.

Anon: “established Bellarke. Everyone go to the Griffins’ country house for the Kabby wedding. Clarke starts thinking Bellamy is upset with her because he doesn’t want to have sex. She confronts him and “it’s because you’re really fucking loud during sex”. Cue to them having sex and Clarke is struggling to be quiet. At some point he has to clamp his hand on her mouth to stop her from waking the ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSE. Your grandma is across the hall, Clarke, ffs.”

Words: 4,254 Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandom: The 100 (TV)

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin

It was early April and the weather was perfect, the Virginia country air easy to breathe. Clarke smiled at Abby across the lawn. They were finally doing it, after 5 years of dating, her mom and Marcus were getting married. She had no idea what had taken them so long to get to this point, but it was great to see her mom happy.

“Clarke.” Bellamy tugged on her hand, drawing her attention away from Abby and to him. “I asked if you wanted another drink?”

Clarke smiled at him. “Yes, please. Nothing too strong.”

Bellamy leaned over to kiss her lightly. “Of course not, princess. Don’t want you to get wasted this early in the day.”

Clarke playfully swatted at him as he laughed before heading off to get their drinks. She and Bellamy had been together for just about as long as her mom and Marcus. She and Abby had moved to Arkadia the summer before her junior year when she was 16. Marcus Kane was their next door neighbor and guardian to Octavia and Bellamy Blake. Well, he was Octavia’s guardian and had been Bellamy’s until he turned 18. Octavia was a year younger than her and they became fast friends. Bellamy had been away at college, but came home a few weeks after they had moved in. He was abrasive and argumentative, but at 21 he had been hot as sin.

Bellamy and Clarke had not been as quick to be friends as she and Octavia, but were forced together when Abby and Marcus began dating. Octavia loved it, Bellamy not so much. He would later tell Clarke that it was because she was so young and he was way too attracted to her. Towards the end of summer they’d had another stupid argument about something that neither of them could remember now and it had ended with them kissing.

They’d spent the last two weeks of summer inseparable and while Abby wasn’t too keen on her dating someone so much older, she held her tongue. Now it was five years later and they were still going strong. Bellamy graduated with a dual major in History and Education the same year that she graduated high school. Which was lucky seeing as her high school was where he had planned to teach. While she went off to university he had spent a year doing student teaching. He had been lucky enough to find a job in the same town as the university that she attended and now taught high school students about his greatest passion - history- while she was finishing up her degree in Art History.

Keep reading here

#bellarke #bellarke prompt fill #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellamy x clarke #bellarke fanfiction #fanfic

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slyth-princess · 3 years

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A One Time Thing

Title: A One Time Thing

Rating: E

Moodboard: @bbybellmy on Twitter!

Relationship: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin

Summary:

Clarke really hates LA. She always has. But her long-distance boyfriend, Finn, lives there for work so she puts up with it. One day, she decides to surprise him and fly in. Only when she shows up at his door and lets herself in, he is very much not alone. Her solution? Drown her sorrows at the bar of the closest hotel to the airport.

As is were, Bellamy has had the same idea. He just helped get his sister moved in with her fiancé, more than a thousand miles from home. When a gorgeous and clearly angry Clarke takes a seat near him, the only other person at the bar, he can’t help himself from talking to her.

One thing leads to another. They wind up back in his room and having a great night. The next morning, his bathroom mirror says thanks in the blood-red lipstick she had left on his lips the night before.

And that’s obviously the end of their story, right?

This fic was prompted for the @t100fic-for-blm initiative and the beautiful moodboard was created by. I am so many other’s are part of this amazing initiative. We take prompts for art, gifsets, fics, and more. Want more info? Have an idea for a story? Just want to support some kick ass causes? Check out our carrd!

And for chapter one of this story, click here!

#t100fic4blm #bellarke #prompt fill #bellarke fic #new fic #my writing #smut with feelings #my stuff

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arysafics · 4 years

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prompt: clarke finds bellamys old online dating account thats obvious he hasnt used in forever, but she sees all his preferences are exactly the opposite of her (i.e. tall, brunette etc.) which makes her insecure. then he can convince her she hit him out of nowhere?

haven’t had much time to write lately since i’ve just moved apartments, but here’s a little something to tide you over until i can finish my next proper fic

like a freight train

rated t, ~1.7k words

Clarke hasn’t been on a dating site in forever, so honestly, it’s kind of fun to help Emori set up her profile. Things hadn’t ended well with Murphy, and after a string of Tinder hookups, Emori claims she’s ready to really move on and try a proper dating site, the one Raven met her current boyfriend Shaw on. There’s a sign-up fee and everything.

So Raven and Clarke have had fun picking Emori’s best photos, writing her bio, and selecting all her preferences, while Emori vetoed all their worst suggestions, and now they’re onto the really fun part—vetting the men.

They’re crowded around Emori’s laptop, sitting on her living room floor. A selection of thirty matches have come up for Emori, and the way it works is you don’t actually get to see the guy’s photo unless you agree to the match based solely on his biographical information.

“Why do all men either love fishing or cars?” Clarke asks, after the fourth man Emori has declined based on the fact that he will clearly never love a woman more than he loves his four-wheel drive.

“It would be fine if they had other interests too,” Emori says. “I like cars. And I could like fishing, I don’t know, I’ve never tried it.”

“Ooh, okay, what about this guy?” Raven interjects, then starts reading his bio from the screen.

“Looking for someone like-minded who enjoys fitness and the outdoors, particularly hiking and cycling. I also love kayaking, rock-climbing, soccer, and basketball. Would love to find someone to share those passions with me. I love a woman who can cook, not because I can’t (I can) but because I think great food is a way to share culture, history, and passion.

I want somebody laidback, who isn’t afraid to go with the flow and be spontaneous. I don’t vibe well with people who are intense or highly-strung. I hate country music and refuse to listen to it, yes, that includes Taylor Swift. Especially Taylor Swift.”

Clarke interjects then. “Emori, I don’t know about you, but I could never be with a guy who doesn’t like Taylor Swift.”

“You know I only listen to metal.”

“Shh, I’m not done,” Raven huffs. “Looks aren’t as important, but I’m partial to tall brunettes.”

Clarke snorts out a laugh. “This guy would hate me.”

“Yeah, but he’s perfect for Emori. What do you think, Em?”

“First halfway decent guy, I vote yes.”

Raven, who for some reason is the one in control of the laptop, hits the accept match button. Immediately, the man’s photo and name pops up, and immediately, Clarke’s stomach drops. Raven and Emori both erupt into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Because, of course, it’s Bellamy. Clarke’s very own boyfriend.

“Clarke, you better watch out, Emori’s going to steal your man.”

“He must have lowered his standards since then, Clarke,” Emori jokes. Clarke isn’t laughing.

Actually, quite the opposite. She feels like she might burst into tears. Her chest is all tight, and she knows her reaction is probably unjustified, but she can’t help it.

“Grow up, Clarke,” Raven says, rolling her eyes when she notices Clarke’s expression. “We’re just kidding around.”

“I know,” Clarke snaps. “I don’t care about that.”

“What then?” Emori asks. “You don’t think he’s actually still using this, do you? The photo is obviously so old, he clearly hasn’t been on here in years. Look,” she adds, pointing out the last active section on his profile, “last active 2012.”

Clarke nods, her jaw tight. It’s not that either, but she doesn’t feel like explaining it to her friends. “Yeah, you’re right,” she says, forcing a smile. “I’m being stupid.”

“Exactly,” Raven agrees. “Okay, who’s the next guy?” She turns her attention back to the screen.

“I think I’m going to take off,” Clarke says. “Bellamy gave me a shopping list, I’m supposed to pick some stuff up so he can make dinner.”

“Okay, whatever,” Raven says. “See you later. We’ll let you know if Emori finds the love of her life.”

Clarkes picks herself up off the floor, says a quick goodbye and hurries out of there. She’s not really in the mood anymore.

She does Bellamy’s grocery shopping on the way home, taking longer than she needs to, because for once she’s actually not eager to see him. The things he wrote in his dating profile haunt her. How is it possible that when he described his ideal woman, he described the exact opposite of Clarke? If those are the things he wants, what is he even doing with her?

She’s not tall, or brunette, for starters. Clarke hates fitness and the outdoors, and she especially hates sports. She’s not a terrible cook, but she’s not exactly Masterchef material, and she doesn’t enjoy it, just does it out of necessity. She’s intense, and uptight, and high-maintenance—and she fucking loves Taylor Swift.

Emori was right, Bellamy clearly lowered his standards.

She makes it home eventually, and Bellamy is already in the kitchen, getting dinner prepped. He’s got on his navy apron, that Clarke bought for him, with his name specially embroidered on the front.

Clarke dumps the bags of groceries on the counter, and Bellamy looks up from where he’s chopping onions, and gives her a heart-melting smile.

“Just in time,” he says, putting the knife down and wiping his hands on his apron. He reaches for her, with the clear intent of kissing her, but Clarke pulls away from him, still hurt from reading his old dating profile. His wounded expression makes her feel a little guilty, but not enough to overshadow her dejection.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Clarke takes a deep breath. She has to talk about the calmly and maturely—they promised each other they always would. No passive-aggressive comments, or screaming matches, or walking out in silence because of a lack of proper communication. That’s how Clarke’s last relationship ended.

“Raven and I were helping Emori set up a dating profile today,” she explains. “And one of her matches was you.”

Bellamy hesitates, and she can see the gears turning in his head. “And you think…I’m still on dating sites?” he guesses. “I’m not, Clarke, I promise. I was on a few back in my twenties. I guess I didn’t delete all of them.”

“No, I know,” Clarke says. “It’s not that. It’s—it’s what you said in your bio. About what kind of woman you want.”

Bellamy groans. “Did I say something grossly offensive and misogynistic? If so, Murphy probably wrote it, he was helping me out with them.”

Clarke shakes her head. “It was all perfectly respectable. It’s just—it wasn’t me.”

Bellamy stares at her. “Well—I didn’t know you then.”

“No, but you seemed pretty certain about what you wanted. A fit, tall, brunette, who loves sports and cooking and sucking your dick.”

“I’m sure I didn’t say that last one. Besides, you do love sucking my dick.”

“That’s not the point,” Clarke huffs. “The woman you want is the complete opposite of me. Why are you even with me, when you could have anyone you want?”

Her voice cracks on the last sentence, and the tears spill over. She tries to blink them away to save herself the embarrassment, but it’s no use.

“Clarke, baby,” Bellamy says, all gentle and loving. He pulls her into his arms, and she lets him. There’s nothing more comforting than his embrace, even if he’s partly the reason she’s upset.

“I have exactly who I want,” he says. “All that other stuff is meaningless, just dot points on a list I thought I could check off and magically find the perfect partner. I was what, twenty-five? And a complete idiot. I didn’t know what I wanted.”

“But I’m not laid back or fun, and I don’t go hiking with you, or canoeing or whatever,” she sobs into his chest.

Bellamy kisses the top of her head, then pulls her back so he can look into her eyes. “Truth is, I once thought that stuff mattered. I was counting on meeting that woman, I was on every dating site, looking for her. But then I met you, and there was no magic dating algorithm that could have predicted that. You hit me like a fucking freight train, Clarke. As soon as I met you, I knew I was done for. You’re it, you’re absolutely it for me. I love your intensity, I love that you care so much, that you’re so organised. I love how you pretend to care about sports for me. I love cooking for you, knowing how much you appreciate it because you hate doing it yourself. I love you. I love you. Understand?”

Clarke nods, and she’s absolutely bawling now, but for entirely different reasons. He’s said he loves her a million times, of course, and she loves hearing it. But he’s never laid it out quite like that—never had the reassurance of him telling her he loves her exactly as she is, not in spite of her faults but because of them.

“You’re still crying,” he says worriedly. “Do you still not believe me? Because—”

Clarke cuts him off with a wet kiss, still half crying. He’s too surprised to kiss her back properly before she pulls away. “I love you too,” she says.

He nods, a little bewildered.

“I love you,” she repeats, kissing him again, and this time he kisses her back. “I love you, I love you, more than you will ever know.”

He brushes his nose against hers, then presses his lips against her tear-stained cheek. “I think I might have some idea,” he whispers.

“You know, in your dating profile,” Clarke murmurs, “you also said you hate Taylor Swift.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Well, you definitely fixed that,” he says. “Is that what you were really upset about? Did I not sing every lyric when we went on that road trip and you played nothing but Taylor Swift?”

“Good point,” Clarke says. “I think I’m definitely a good influence on you.”

“Definitely,” Bellamy agrees. “Now, back to Emori’s dating profile—you know this is going to crush Murphy, right?”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine #prompts filled #Anonymous

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bellarke-prompts · 5 years

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from @starshipsfall:

“I really like time travel fics and honestly there is not enough out there to quell my hunger for them. Like canonverse where present Bellarke meet future Bellarke or Bellarke children...anything really give me all the time travel please!

Also truth serum or truth inducing anything is great. Oh and like parallel universe jumping you know in supernatural where they travel to our world where their lives are shows or any other world with Bellarke I guess the former would be beliza/Bellarke but anyhoo that is all my dream fics so if anyone wants to do them I shall be forever in your debt!!! Lots of love to you beautiful creators Xxx”

#prompts #bellarke #fic prompts #bellarke prompt #bellarke fanfiction #time travel #canonverse #in general i have a rule against rpf but #i’ve seen that episode of spn* and i’ll make an exception if someone wants to fill that #but don’t take it in a weird direction pls #starshipsfall

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homebody-nobody · 5 years

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We pair one, right? How about...uhh... "People lie all the time" and, uh... "real smooth, tripping over air" Not sure if that's what you meant and kind of late to the party but there you go

Hi hello I am a trash blogger who had finals… and then ADHD. I’m assuming this a prompt which like !!! thank you !!! I never get sent these !!! Since you didn’t send me a pairing and my blog Is The Way It Is I’m assuming you’re a bellarke fan or at least tolerant of said pairing so that’s what you’re gonna get

Bellamy doesn’t really do parties. It’s not because he doesn’t have a lot of friends (okay, so he has like, three) but he tells himself it’s because he hates the crowds, the noise and the sweat from a mob of unruly drunken bodies. Also, he never gets invited to them. So it’s pretty normal that he’s sitting in his apartment on a Friday night, alone and tuning out the noise from upstairs. The room glows softly, all three sets of his fairy lights and his desk lamp on to keep the night at bay. Sitting on his messily made bed with its ancient, pilling dark green comforter, he holds his guitar on his lap, making a smudged mess of a piece of notebook paper as he strums a chord progression and tries to put his raspy voice over it.

His phone starts to buzz relentlessly just as he’s figuring out the chorus, and he curses as he digs through his nest of pillows and blankets he’s created. When he finds it – directly under his left knee – the name on the screen drops a stone down his throat. It’s Clarke. In a panic, he jumps off his bed and stands in the middle of the room. After pacing a few times, he picks up.

Also on ao3

“Hey,” he breathes, and even though she’s not in the room, every sense is trained on what he can read of her reaction through the phone. His vision blurs, his hearing dulling until it’s just her voice, her breathing on the other end. They haven’t spoken in over six months, since their relationship ended, bloody and loud, at the beginning of the previous semester. She’d come back from the summer different, stony and just as impenetrable as she had been when they first met as bullheaded, impetuous underclassmen. They fought, but it was beyond the usual teasing and bickering. She never told him what happened. She shoved him away so violently, slammed all her walls down so fast he never really understood what he’d done wrong.

“Bellamy?” her voice cracks on his name, and he hears the tears, thick in her throat. “I didn’t mean – Oh God, I’m sorry, I –” her breath gasps and quakes in her chest. “I was just –”

“Clarke, breathe,” he says, fighting to keep his voice even, to not let his own growing panic show through. “Take a breath, princess, you can do it.” The nickname slips out softly, a habit he never got past, and she squeaks on a sharp inhale. “Breathe with me, sweetheart, come on.” He squeezes his eyes shut, so tightly the world turns to stars, and leans his forehead against his door, one fist opening and closing, the other hand white-knuckled around his phone. His own breaths are shaky still, but hers finally slow to match. Flexing his hand against the door, he listens to Clarke’s shuddering breaths, and all he wants to do is find her, hold her, get so close he can’t tell his limbs from hers, let her fall asleep, safe in his arms.

But he’s not allowed that, anymore. She left, and for all he wishes, he doesn’t think she’s coming back to him. “Can you come over?” she sniffles. It’s a weak and searching question, and she seems reluctant to even ask it.

He pauses, remembering the last time they were in the same room, the hurled insults and the crackling tension. “Do you… think that’s a good idea?” he asks, and he’s hopeful, too, but cautious. Scared, like she is.

“I –” she coughs and sniffles again, “I don’t care,” she huffs out on a sob. “I need you, Bellamy,” She cries for a moment more and he’s caught, frozen, logic and desire at war in his chest. Then, she says the word that breaks him, the word that always will. “Please.”

It works. It always does. “I’m on my way,” he says, and it’s an exhale, a relief. It’s been half a year, but he still feels her absence as if it was fresh, like her voice on the other end of the line has ripped off the bandage over a festering wound. He tries not to think as he walks the few blocks downtown to her apartment. She lives in the complex in the center of downtown in their small college city, with the pool on the rooftop and the huge LED screens that plays the football games on Saturdays. It was a source of tension when they first met, what with Bellamy’s particular relationship to wealth. But then he got to know her, how sarcastic and hardworking and hilarious she was. How fiercely loyal and confident and determined.

He fell in love with her. It was inevitable; they were two cosmic bodies orbiting each other, pulling one another in, a collision course destined to end in fire and destruction. But it was a gorgeous supernova while it lasted, red and golden and orange flashing in the darkness, light and fire, passion and flame. And then, like everything, it died. And he never knew why. He’s not sure how this is going to go, as he walks. He’s hopeful, as he always is. A life like his has taught him that as long as there’s still breath in his lungs, there’s hope. But he thought he knew Clarke, knew how her brain worked, how she thought and what she wanted. He understands humans, for the most part. Clarke used to tell him he was “good at people,” sometimes as a compliment, sometimes because she was being belligerent.

But he lost her. She pushed him away, far enough that he couldn’t see her anymore, couldn’t reach out and hold her when she needed him, couldn’t feel her warmth in the cold. Stepping up to the buzzer, Bellamy reaches out his hand, and falters. Every piece of advice Octavia’s ever given to him echoes through his mind, her unyielding criticism of everything Clarke had done, everything Octavia had blamed her for. But then he remembers his sister’s eyes, green and sharp as winter, desperate to prove herself, and push through anyone who gets in her way. Bellamy, with Clarke’s help, had begun to discover the ways his sister used him, how he had settled back into a secondary character in his own life. Octavia hated Clarke for that, and Bellamy hated himself for ever listening to her. He rings the buzzer.

Clarke responds immediately, the door to the lobby clicking open. Hood up, hands planted firmly in his pockets, he’s not eager to meet the eyes of Sterling, the kid at the desk, or anyone he might know hanging out in the ground floor lounge. He recognizes the voices of Harper and Monroe over by the pool table; praying they don’t recognize him, he scratches the back of his head through his hoodie, using his arm to block his face. It doesn’t work, and Monroe calls his name, he turns, and their face lights up at the sight of him. “Bellamy!” they call, “hey!”

He turns, slowly, his mind filtering through a thousand different responses and finding none. “Hey… dude,” he responds, and then physically flinches. Knowing he looks wrecked, his eyes stay on his shoes.

Monroe’s cheerful expression slides off their face, replaced by a fleeting look of concern, immediately followed by understanding. Harper opens her mouth, but they nudge her in the ribs without looking. “Tell Clarke I hope she’s okay,” is all they say, before tugging on Harper’s elbow and directing her attention forcibly back to the game. Bellamy has some idea that they know something about the reason Clarke was crying on the phone, and that nags at him.

He hates not being the first to know everything, anymore. Telling secrets was something Clarke was never good at; she struggled with every aspect of sharing her feelings, and Bellamy was the same. They were a grumpy, sometimes malaligned pair, but they fit, somehow. They were each other’s confidants, steady points, rocks in a frothing river. She has someone else for that now – maybe more than one person. That hurts most of all, that he’s become insignificant. But, she did call. So maybe he still is her secret keeper. Monroe keys him into the elevator vestibule, so Clarke doesn’t have to come down and let him in.

However, since he already rang the buzzer, she’s in the hall when the elevator opens, her keys in her hand. “How did you –” she starts, just as he says “I ran into –” She laughs, a half-made, awkward thing, and it hangs. Stepping out of the elevator, Bellamy notices the tear tracks on her face, the salt collecting in her eyelashes, her cheeks, bloated and red. It’s only second nature to step forward and cradle her face, his thumb sweeping over her cheekbone. She starts, when he touches her, and he freezes, but it’s only for a moment before she leans into his hand. “Clarke…” he says, and it’s a whisper, a breath, the fall of a crumbling wall, the dissolution of a half-made barrier.

Rushing forward, she stumbles and crashes into his chest, tripping over her own feet. Her keys jangle behind his back, her face buried in his shoulder. His arms pause, hanging in the air for a moment before they clasp around her, his palms flat against her back. He can feel the warmth of her skin through her thin t-shirt, and her lips find their familiar place on his shoulder. It feels right, to have her back in his arms, to feel her breath and her pulse matching up to his.

“Real smooth,” he grumbles to diffuse the emotional weight of the moment before it overflows, “Tripping over air.” He attempts nonchalance, but his heart thunders in his chest and his stomach is somewhere at the base of his throat.

She chuckles, watery and soft against his skin. “Shut up.” Finally pulling away, Clarke swipes under her eyes with the cuffs of her white sweatshirt. Bellamy realizes with a jolt that it’s his, from his high school lacrosse team. She already looks different, even after only a few months. Her hair is shorter, cropped short around her chin, and there’s a shock of hot pink in the bottom three inches on one side, like she’d dyed it a long time ago and already and started growing it out. The sight chips a little deeper in the widening cavern in his chest.

Turning and obviously expecting him to follow, Clarke heads towards her apartment. Once she’s around the first corner, Bellamy releases the breath he was holding, heavy and loud in the concrete hallway. It echoes louder than he anticipated; it feels like all the anxiety it contained settles in his hair and on his shoulders, and he resists the urge to shake it off. He settles for pulling his fingers through his hair before setting off after her. Clarke gives him a small smile when he catches up, and his stupid heart drops to his feet. Even with the tear tracks and the blotchy red face, she’s gorgeous. She’s ruined him – he won’t find anyone more beautiful than her.

Unlocking the door, Clarke sniffs before saying “Excuse the mess. It’s been a rough – while.” Her space was usually fairly messy anyway, since she was both incredibly busy and wildly forgetful. But the scene they walk into looks like a bomb has gone off. Jackets and sweatshirts are on every surface of the living area, a stack of half-finished canvases sat next to the TV, and the dropcloth and easel look like they’ve been in the middle of the floor for over a month. Dust is thick on her bookshelf, and there’s a stack of dishes in the sink.

Bellamy feels a little sick and frustrated with himself. Because she lives without a roommate, there is no one around to monitor her, to pick her up and drag her out of the house when she is isolating herself and hibernating like a bear. When they were together, he usually took over that role; reminding her to eat, to switch the laundry, to not live like a hermit raised in a barn. Six months was too long to go without checking in. Part of him feels responsible for the place she’s in.

Ignoring all of it, Clarke beelines for her bedroom. The bed, for some odd reason, is made, even though the floor is a thick carpet of t-shirts and tops. She clambers up on it and pulls a large stuffed deer into her lap, wrapping her arms around it and clinging to it for dear life. Her watery blue eyes watch him as he stood in the doorway, taking in the scene, his heart breaking even farther with each second. He didn’t realize it had gotten this bad. He should have been around to make sure it didn’t.

She watches his face, and she still knows every line, every twitch and glimmer that gives away Bellamy’s every emotion. He’s shattering in slow motion, hairline crack by hairline crack, and it’s her that’s doing it to him – seeing her in this state. And she’s watching him blame himself; it’s in the pucker of his eyebrows and the shift of his cheeks. The lump rises in her throat again, and she chokes back tears with an apology. “I’m sorry, Bellamy,” she sobs, and then drops her forehead against the stuffed animal. “I’m so sorry.”

Bellamy steps on a pile of t-shirts and sinks down on the bed next to her, already hushing and comforting in his soft, deep voice. “It’s alright, it’s alright” he repeats, pushing the head of the deer aside so that she looks up at him. He’d gotten for her for their first – and only – valentine’s day together, because he’s a stereotypical cheesy romantic and for some reason, deer are Clarke’s favorite animal. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she says, shaking her head, looking at him. The sudden closeness almost hurts. After six months – half an entire year – of barely hearing from her, seeing her only at parties and events, and now they’re alone in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, and she’s filling up the space with her eyes and her voice and her smell, and it’s almost too much. Clarke takes a deep, shaky breath, and moves the deer from her lap, turning to face him. Sitting criss-cross so they’re knee-to-knee, she takes his hands, and focuses on them as she speaks. “It’s not, because –” and her voice breaks, and he’s so glad she’s touching him, finally, so he can hold her hands tighter, give her some solid ground to stand on. “Because I hurt you, and I never told you why.”

“Clarke,” he breathes, “We don’t have to do this now.” He smooths the hair off her forehead and he wants so badly to pull her into his chest and let her cry. He wants to let his touch shut out everything, make it just the two of them again, together against the world.

But she doesn’t fall into him, just sniffles and wipes at her eyes again. Taking another deep breath, she seems to be preparing herself for something. “No,” she says, “We do, because –” another shuddering sigh. “Because I lied to you.”

This one hits him in the chest, scooping away at the hollow already there. Bellamy and Clarke didn’t start their relationship well; there was a lot of screaming, and then light hearted banter, and even when they were together they fought and teased and bickered – but there was never any lies. “About –” he stammers, “about what?”

She drops her eyes, and he watches her struggle with what she’s about to say, watches her start to raise her walls again, and then pause, remembering who she’s with. Fidgeting, she adjusts her grip on his hands a few times before she begins. “When we –” She catches herself. “After I –” she tries once more before finally settling “at the end of that summer, I – I left. And I told you it was because I thought we – that we’d run our course and that I –” she chokes on her next words, “that I didn’t love you anymore.” her eyes start to fill. “And that was a lie. God, it was a lie.”

Confused doesn’t even begin to cover where Bellamy’s at right now. Part of him is elated, that she hadn’t randomly fallen out of love with him, but he’s terrified of the possibilities of her lie. Maybe it really was something heinous, something he would never be able to forgive her for… although, he’s not entirely sure that’s possible. “What was it?” he asks. “What did – what did you lie about?”

Clarke pauses and sighs once more. “Do you remember my cousin Madi?” Bellamy nods slowly, not entirely sure where this is going. He’d met Madi at a few of Clarke’s family events. Thanksgiving, Christmas, things like that. Since his mother was dead and he’d stopped answering his sister’s calls, Clarke’s family had become his. Madi was a cute kid, fourteen and full of energy, ready to grow up, but not quite there yet. She hero-worshipped the both of them, but they didn’t mind. She was fun to hang out with, and pretty funny, and loved all the same old-school nickelodeon cartoons they’d grown up with. Bellamy’s stomach drops at the foreboding tone in Clarke’s voice. “She was diagnosed with some kind of rare blood disease at the end of last summer.” She says, all in a rush, like it’s a relief to get it off her chest.

“She got hurt, and her blood was almost black, and I was babysitting her and I had to take her to the hospital and she got put on permanent oxygen and then things just –” Clarke chokes on the words, her eyes filling with tears. “They only got worse from there, and now –” her tears are flowing now, collecting and dripping off her chin, but she just keeps talking, like she’s been holding on to it for too long and it all just needs to come out. “Her mom just called like half an hour ago and she’s in this experimental surgery and they don’t know if she’ll pull through and she’s halfway across the country in Polis and I’m stuck here, and I can’t – I don’t know what to do and I just —” she dissolves into too-quick breaths and sobs, and finally, Bellamy pulls her into his chest. Her face falling against his shoulder, she curls up into his lap, crying, ugly and loud against his neck. It hurts him, to feel her shaking in his arms, to know there’s nothing he can do but hold her, keep his arms as a boundary around the pain, so it can’t get any worse, so it can’t grow beyond something she can control.

When she tires herself out, her breath evening as the tears subside, she laces her fingers around his shoulder and pulls herself closer. “I’m sorry,” she whispers again. She’s torn down and flagging, just so tired. She wants to lay down, to have Bellamy hold her so close she can’t tell where she ends and he begins. She wants to close her eyes and stop existing, just for a while. She wants to forget.

Bellamy lifts her chin off his shoulder and pulls away slightly, enough to look her in the eyes. “If it’s forgiveness you need,” he says, brushing a piece of hair away from her eyes with his thumb. “You’re forgiven, okay?” His heart hammers in his throat, but he means it, every word. There are a thousand other emotions storming around in his chest; grief, for Madi, sadness and empathy for Clarke, and yes, a little bit of anger, too – at the unfairness of Madi’s condition, even at Clarke, for not letting him help – but she’s here, and she needs him, and he’ll do anything, to protect her.

She bites her bottom lip, unable to pull her eyes from Bellamy’s, deep and brown, looking warm and genuine, feeling like home. “But I lied,” she whispers. She knows how much Bellamy values honesty, how he grew up surrounded by lies and treachery and sneaking around, and how he needs people to be upfront with him. She knows how hard this cut, her deceiving him. And as much as it makes sense, as much as she’s justified it these past six months, she hates herself for it, too.

“Clarke,” he says, in a whisper, his voice cracking on the single syllable of her name. And that’s how she knows he’s sincere. It’s the same way he says her name at the end of every fight, the same way he says it when he gives in to every emotion, when he buckles under every burden he makes himself carry. His eyes start to well with tears, and he shakes his head, just the slightest, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s him saying don’t be naive, don’t think I would ever hold this against you. So much in this small gesture. “People lie all the time.”

There isn’t anything left to say. She rests her hands on either side of his face, brushing her thumbs against his cheekbones, and rests her forehead against his – a question. Breathing ragged, hands trembling, Bellamy pulls her lips to his. A kiss, so simple – but an answer, a promise, a second chance, all the same. A whimper of relief creeps up the back of Clarke’s throat and – like so many times before – they fall into each other. It’s not perfect; they’re both a little teary and a little desperate, but they find their home in each other, and it feels like the first time all over again. It’s slow and sweet; she falls, and he catches her, again and again.

When she finally pulls away, lips tingling, skin aflame, he nudges her nose with his. She almost laughs. That’s Bellamy’s move, something small that he doesn’t even realize he does. Something comforting; a reminder that he’s still here, present in the moment, all the way with her. “Will you stay?” she asks, smaller than a whisper.

“Of course,” is all he says. It’s late already, and they’re both exhausted, so – after a few minutes more of Bellamy holding her – they separate. Clarke is already in her pajamas. Bellamy pulls off his shirt, and she tosses him a pair of his sweatpants without looking at him, her face red. He chuckles. “I’ve been looking for these.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, hiding under the covers.

He turns off the light and climbs up behind her, his arm sliding around her waist, solid and strong. She closes her eyes and turns over, nuzzling into his chest. They lay in the dark for a while, Bellamy dozing, dragging his fingertips up and down her spine, Clarke trying to sleep, but with a white-knuckle grip on her phone, willing it to ring. The night wears on; eventually, Bellamy drops off, but Clarke stays awake, breathing him in, trying to find comfort in the circle of his arms, pacing her breaths to his even ones, lightly tracing her fingers over his face in the moonlight that filters through the curtains. She whispers apologies to him, over and over again – not just for lying, but for leaving, for not explaining, for cutting and running right when she needed him most. She knows he can’t hear her, that he wouldn’t want to, wouldn’t let her blame herself, but it makes her feel better.

At five, just as the sky is beginning to lighten, her phone rings. It had slipped between the two of them in the middle of the night, and the vibrating wakes Bellamy as well. Clarke rockets upright and answers it, her other hand clutched in her short blonde hair. Sitting up, Bellamy rubs a hand up and down her spine, attempting to hide the anxiety clawing at his chest. He has to be strong, for her. Her half of the conversation is just “yeah”s and “okay”s and finally, a “thank you. I love you, keep me posted.” She hangs up, and then turns and throws her arms around his neck. “She’s stable. She’s gonna be okay.”

Bellamy holds on tight, feeling her press her smile against his shoulder, where her lips always find their way, where they belong. He lets out his own sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he sighs. Madi had started to take the place of Octavia in his heart, in terms of brotherly affection, and he had his own worry for her. “Oh thank fucking christ.” And then suddenly, they’re both laughing.

She pulls away, puts her hands on his face like she had the night before. “She’s gonna be okay,”

She laughs, and her smile is almost blinding. Clarke is his sunlight, his hope in the dark, and every time she smiles, he’s reminded of it. Her laugh is disbelieving, but bubbling and radiant. She stands up on her knees, her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist. “Oh my god!” she says, like it’s finally sinking in, “She’s really gonna be okay!” She tries to jump up and down on her knees, but only succeeds in destabilizing herself and falling onto Bellamy, pushing him backwards onto the bed.

He lets out a yell of fake indignation and rolls over, running his fingers up and down her sides with ruthless tickles. She squirms and shouts, still laughing, and as the sun creeps up over the buildings, they forget the past six months. In this moment, they never broke. They never spent too much time alone, thinking of the other. Clarke never pushed him away. Bellamy never let her. In this moment, there is only the early morning sun, and their impossible laughter, and the small victory of temporary relief.

Finally, when Clarke is breathless and tears are starting to leak from her eyes, Bellamy stops the torture and leans in to kiss her, long and deep. She tangles her fingers in his hair and can’t stop smiling against his lips, as these last hours have brought her more happiness than she could have ever imagined. She wraps her legs around his waist and tries to pull him closer, but he pulls away. “Wait –” he says. With his hair impossibly messy like that, his lips shining and his cheeks flush, it’s the last thing she wants to do, but she stops. His eyes are wild, and she can tell he wants this as much as she does, but something is (barely) holding him back. “Why did you call me?” They both knew there were several other people she could have called, people that definitely would not have brought even more emotional baggage to the table.

Her heart jumps to the base of her throat, a blush rising in her cheeks. It’s stupid, and embarrassing, and she hides her nervous chuckle in his shoulder. “It’s stupid,” she says. He rolls off her (unfortunately), and settles next to her on his side.

“Tell me,” he urges, holding her hand when she places it over his heart.

She focuses on her palm against his bare chest, the heat of him, the contrast of their skin. “Remember when we met at that like – peer mentor thing, and you had to give us all your phone number?” Bellamy nods, remembering the day they met. Clarke was a new freshman, Bellamy a sophomore who had somehow landed a position as a peer mentor for Arcadia University’s honors program ‘freshman experience.’ His contempt for the position had been obvious, and none of his students had liked him, and vice versa. The ‘mentor feedback’ forms from that year ensured it was a one-time gig for him. It wasn’t until he and Clarke met at a party several months later that they discovered they actually liked each other. “Well, I uh…” a smile tugs at one corner of her mouth, and she taps her fingertips against his chest. “I put you in my phone as ‘raging asshole.’”

He barks out a laugh, and she hurries to correct the situation, her hands fluttering as he curls forward with the force of his surprise. “I changed it when we started dating!” she insists. He shakes his head, waving her off, gesturing for her to continue her story. “Well, after we, uh –” she doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to hear her say it. “Well, after, I changed it back. And then, last night, I was trying to call Raven, and I hit your number instead.”

“So… it was an accident?” he asks, wondering why he feels disappointed.

“I guess,” she says. But then; “But you picked up the phone, and I realized – it was you, I wanted here. It was you I needed.” He surges forward to kiss her again, and when she pulls him closer, he doesn’t stop.

After, when they’re laying skin-to-skin and the morning has taken over the room, Clarke looks up at Bellamy from where she’s laying on his chest. Soft golden light filters through the curtains and falls across his relaxed, pensive face, setting his bronze skin aglow, turning his deep brown eyes into liquid amber. His fingers are drawing absent patterns across her skin, and she’s sated and safe and happy. “Bellamy?” she asks, easy, but still worried at the answer.

“Yeah?” he responds, adjusting his position so he can look her in the eyes.

It almost stops her heart, that this beautiful man can be so good, and come back to her again. “Do you –” she pauses to heave a deep breath. “Do you think you could love me again?”

His face softens, and he brings a hand up to pull her chin up, giving her a sweet, slow kiss. “Don’t you know?” he says, “I never stopped.”

#bellarke #bellarke fic #the 100 #the 100 fic #bellarke au #bellarke modern au #bellarke college au #the 100 modern au #the 100 college au #answered #prompt fill #anon #thank you so much for the prompt very sorry it took so long

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bellarkeprompts · 5 years

Text

So this one sentence has been twirling in my mind for god knows how long and now I have to get it out for someone to write a fic based on it. So the sentence is: “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” And for some reason in my mind Bellamy is saying this to Clarke but could be the other way too, I don’t mind :) modern au/canon…doesn’t really matter just please please please someone write this.

#bellarke #clarke griffin #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake #bellarkeprompts #prompt #insp #fills #submission #dialogue #noset #fluff

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asroarke · 6 years

Note

"You're my plus one to this wedding and the photographer took many shots of me because I'm the maid of honor and wow, there's a few in which we look so in love, possibly more so than the bride and groom."

So, I threw in some roommates!Bellarke because I love being able to shout “oh my god they were roommates” to myself while writing. Hope you like the pining fluff![ao3]

“Have you looked through them yet?” Raven asked.

“Not yet, just now getting home,” Clarke explained,shuffling the phone to her other ear as she dug her keys from her purse. “But Iwill look through the photos.”

“Well, get on it,” she snapped.

“Okay, how about we resume this conversation when you’reback from your honeymoon, huh?” Clarke smirked as she unlocked her door. “Gohave sexy time with Zeke.”

“We just did, and now I want your reaction to the weddingphotos,” she whined. “There are some… interesting photos of you.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, dropping her purse on the kitchenisland. Bellamy’s head perked up when she walked in, waving at her form thecouch before looking back at his laptop. “So, you’re calling me between sexsessions to berate me into looking at photos from your wedding?” Clarke huffedon her way to her bedroom. “Shouldn’t you be spooning instead?

It hadn’t even been four days since the wedding, whereClarke was the maid of honor. The whole week before had been stressful forClarke, since she had been running last minute errands and keeping the rest ofthe wedding party from getting alcohol poisoning. The only reason she relaxed atthe reception is because she brought Bellamy with her. He kept her out on thedance floor, cracking jokes and getting her to smile all night.

“We are spooning,” Zeke shouted into the phone, and Clarkelet out a groan. “Go look at the pictures!”

“See? Miles here agrees with me,” Raven teased, and Zeke grumbledin the background.

“I’m hanging up now. Use protection,” Clarke huffed beforeending the call. She tossed the phone onto the bed before changing out of herwork clothes and into her leggings and a sweatshirt. “Raven is being reallyweird,” she grumbled as she stepped back out into the living room.

“Weird how?” he asked, not looking up from his laptop.Bellamy had moved in after Raven moved out to go live with Zeke, meaning he andClarke had been roommates for more than a year now. He was also her bestfriend, though sometimes she caught herself longing for more. It was an easyenough thing to ignore usually, but taking him as her date to the wedding madeit hard to shake from her mind. He was so sweet with her all day, helping herout when she had to put out wedding day fires, making her laugh whenever shewanted to cry from stress, and getting her to relax enough to actually have funduring the reception.

“She keeps hounding me about looking at the photos from thewedding,” Clarke muttered, plopping down on the couch beside him.

“Oh,” he whispered. “Well, uh, here.” He slid his laptopinto her lap where he already had the photos pulled up. “Raven sent them to melike an hour ago.”

Clarke snorted as she began flipping through, wondering whatthe urgency was. Clarke wanted a break from this wedding, and she coulddefinitely use a few days before being reminded of how badly she wanted to kissBellamy out on the dance floor…

… but if Clarke really wanted to avoid that reminder, sheshouldn’t have started flipping through the photos because there that moment was,captured in a photograph. They were dancing to a slower song, Bellamy waslaughing at something Clarke said, and Clarke’s eyes were lingering on his lipsfor just a moment. If the camera flashed just a beat later, it would have beenmissed. Clarke fixed her expression before Bellamy ever looked back at her,shaking all longing from her eyes to go back to being his best friend. But thecamera caught it, which meant Bellamy did see how she looked at him.

She switched to the next photo quickly, feeling Bellamy’seyes heavy on her. Her throat was dry as she tried to pay attention to theother photos, panic rising in her chest. It was only one photo, though, whichmeant she could play it off as a fluke.

Except it wasn’t just one photo. It was another photo takenat their table where Bellamy leaned in to whisper something to her and thecamera caught her mid laugh. And another where he dipped her on the dance floorand they both had these beautiful smiles plastered on their faces as theylooked at each other. A shot during the send off where Clarke was beaming up atBellamy as he tried to get his sparkler to light. A picture of Bellamy’s backwhen they had one last slow dance for the night, where Clarke’s head rested onhis shoulder, her eyes fluttered shut, and the most content smile rested on herlips.

She let out a breath when she got to the toast pictures,relieved for a break from her lovestruck eyes gazing at Bellamy. In thepicture, Clarke had her eyes fixed on Zeke and Raven, a soft but nervous smileon her face as she stumbled her way through the toast.

But in the background of the photo was Bellamy, staring atClarke with gentle eyes and a small smile on his lips. He was looking at herlike she looked at him in all the other photos, a little lovestruck and full ofadoration. There were at least four pictures of her toast, and in all of them,Bellamy looked a little bit in love with her.

“Need anything from the kitchen?” Bellamy asked, jerking hereyes away from the screen for a moment. She had gotten so lost in the picturesthat she forgot Bellamy was sitting right there, looking at the same photos andwatching her reactions.

“I’m good,” she choked out as he made his way toward thekitchen. As soon as he was gone, she flipped back to the first photos of themshe found, this time paying attention to his face. There was a soft smirk onhis lips as he leaned in to whisper something. A smile matching her own happyone as he dipped her. A blush on his cheeks when Clarke beamed up at him.

Her cheeks went flush and her chest grew warm as Clarkerealized she wasn’t the only one who looked madly in love in these photos.

She shut the laptop when Bellamy came back in, ducking herhead to conceal her giddy smile. “So, tell Raven you saw the photos so she’llleave you alone,” he told her. He picked up the remote and turned on the TVwhile Clarke shot Raven a quick thank youtext. They had settled on House Hunters when Raven texted back saying, Zeke and I are rooting for you two.

Clarke curled up into Bellamy’s side, humming happily whenhe put his arm around her. She didn’t bring up the pictures… not yet, at least.Right now, she was just relieved to know he had been pining after her thiswhole time too.

#asks #prompt fills #alex does prompts sometimes #bellarke fanfiction #modern au #fluff #wedding fluff #wedding fic #friends to lovers #pining #mutual pining #and they were roommates #oh my god they were roommates #asroarke fanfiction

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pawprinterfanfic · 5 years

Note

Bellarke fic please. Clarke and Bellamy get married so she can keep Madi and in the process fall in love (bonus: I would love it if Bellamy had to break up with Echo to do it).

This is such an old prompt fill, but there is a very good reason!!! I started writing this fill last month and got super carried away. It is now a multi-chapter fic that I’m just starting to post. All of the links can be found in this post!

changing tides is currently just under 40k words and growing. Let me tell you, it is trope central. We have some platonic marriages, fake dating, friends to lovers, bed sharing, “platonic” kisses, awkward dates, meet the parents… All that lovely stuff. Oh. And, of course, a big ol’ Bellarke wedding.

I hope to have the full thing posted in the next month or so!

I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for this prompt fill.

#bellarke fanfiction #changing tides #prompt fill #writing fill #pawfic #mine #minet100

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bellarke-events · 1 year

Photo

Bellarke Valentines is open! Sign up now!

Welcome to Bellarke Valentines! An event created for the Bellarke fandom inspired by fandom events like Secret Santa and Holiday Gift Exchange, but it’s for Valentine’s Day! Do you like Bellarke? Do you like making and receiving Bellarke creations? Do you like interacting with other creators? Do you like putting a smile on someone’s face with your creations? You can do all of these things this Valentine’s Day with our interactive fandom event!

To put it simply, everyone gets assigned a user that they make a gift for, and in return you’ll also receive a gift for Valentine’s Day!

Everything you need to know will be listed below, (Don’t forget to check out the FAQ!) and if you’d like to participate please fill out our Sign-Up Forms! We’d be happy to have you! We will be tracking #bellarkevalentines starting now! Any updates will be posted under that tag!

Sign-Ups And Steps For Participating

Fill out the form listed above with the information needed. It’s relatively simple, just the basics for participating. Please do this by January 31st, sign ups will close at 11:59 PST. (If you need to know when this is for you, you can search for a time zone converter or contact us and we’ll help.)

Shortly after this, you’ll receive a message from us with your gift recipient. This should be February 1st or 2nd. If it takes longer for you to receive a message, please let us know. Your gift recipient will have selected the type of media you chose to create. They may have selected other media as well, but we’ll try to match you up as best as we can so you’ll be matched with as many applicable prompts as possible.

Start on your creations! Check out your prompts and see what you like best! Every participant should provide at least three (even more is encouraged!) prompts as a jumping off point. Prompts may be short and simple (Example: Gifset of Bellarke in S2) or more detailed (Like a full description for a fic). If you have any questions at this point, feel free to reach out to us.

Post on Valentine’s Day! It’s February 14th and you’ve finished your creation and are ready to post? Go ahead! There is no set time, just whatever part of the day works for you! Remember to tag #bellarkevalentines and/or #bellarkevalentines23 so we can reblog it. (If your gift is posted outside of Tumblr and you’d like us to post a direct link, please message us!)

As covered in the FAQ, gift extensions are available for a limited duration. Running late? We understand! If you won’t make it on the day, you may request an extension up until the following weekend. This gives you about five extra days max. After that, we’ll work on a backup gift for your recipient. This is simply so we can insure everybody gets a gift and no one is left out.

Lastly, enjoy your gifts! We absolutely cannot wait to see what everybody creates! We hope to see a lot of romance and fluff. ;)

If you have any questions that haven’t been answered in this post or the FAQ, please feel free to contact us! We’ll help out in any way we can! We hope you can join us! Reblogs of this post are appreciated to spread the word. 💖

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traitorwhoyoulove · 6 years

Note

Hey! I've got an AU idea to swing by your for your follower celebration! (this is @bellark-e btw, hermione-blake is just my main). Maybe a quick only slightly altered canon AU where BOTH bellamy and clarke get arrested for killing cooper instead of just clarke and octavia wants to force them to fight each other in the pit

Clarke sinks onto the metal bench, her shoulders slumping as she puts her face in her hands. She can feel them shake against her cheeks. Madi, she thinks. She wonders if Madi knows she’s here, if she’ll be forced to watch her and Bellamy in the arena. The thought makes her sick.

She’d do it herself, she decides. A blade to the wrists, quickly and quietly before he could stop her. She would not force Madi to watch Bellamy kill her. She needs to be able to trust him, to allow him to take Clarke’s place after today. After she’s gone. And besides, she could never ask Bellamy to do that. She would do it for Madi, but she would also do it for him.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, fingers knotted in her hair, before the door opens.

“You have to hurry,” Indra says. “A few minutes, no more. This is all I can give you.”

She doesn’t understand until he walks through the door. His curls are wild as though he’s been tugging his hands through them as she has been. The look he gives her, god, it’s enough to make her leave all of her bravery on the bench as she stands. Bellamy meets her halfway, colliding together as she shoves her face into his chest with a broken sob. He doesn’t shush her, does not attempt to take away her fear with false promises that things would be okay. He simply wraps his arms around her the way he did a lifetime ago, a hand stroking her hair softly as she collects herself.

At last, she pulls away to meet his eyes, tears pooling in their depths.

“Tell Madi I love her,” she rasps. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

His brows furrow as he shakes his head.

“Clarke—no,” he stammers. “You’re not doing this—we are not doing this.”

The dry laugh that falls from her lips is sharp and desperate.

“We don’t have a choice, Bellamy. If we don’t fight, Octavia will execute us both, and I won’t—” Her voice breaks. She swallows hard to shove down the lump that has risen to her throat. “Our people need you.”

“We need you, too,” he counters. His hands slide up her back to take her face into his palms. He glares at her with fearful eyes. “What about Madi? She needs you, Clarke.”

Clarke shakes her head.

“She’ll have you,” she says. “She needs someone to show her that you can survive in this world and still be good.” She places her hand over one of his own as her lip trembles. “And there is no one I would trust more to do that than you.”

A tear slips onto Bellamy’s cheek, carving a path through his freckles. She gives him a sad smile.

“If anyone can get Octavia to listen to reason, it’s you,” she whispers.

“Clarke, she doesn’t listen to me,” he seethes. “She doesn’t listen to anyone.”

“I know she’s changed. But you’re still her brother, Bellamy. You’re our best chance for peace.”

His eyes fall shut and he leans toward her, his forehead pressing against hers. She can feel his breath fan across her cheeks, and she takes a moment to revel in it, to have this moment to remember in her last.

“I can’t, Clarke,” he whispers. “I can’t lose you. I can’t mourn you.” His hand tangles into her hair as he pulls her imperceptibly closer. “Not again.”

And there is this moment where the world seems to stand still. The cell falls silent, the hum of the generators and sound of the air filtration system disappearing, until there is nothing but Bellamy and Clarke and the sound of their breaths intermingling with one another. She can feel her heart thudding beneath her ribs, racing as the whole world seems to wait to see what happens next.

“Clarke,” he breathes. “Clarke I—”

The door opens once more with a loud clang. This is it. They’re out of time.

Monty steps in, breathing heavily with a cut on his cheekbone.

“We have to go,” he pants. “Now! Let’s move!”

Bellamy pushes her toward the door, one step behind her. They take the guns that Harper offers them on the other side.

“What’s happening?” Clarke asks. “Where are the guards?”

“Dead,” Harper says. “Now hidden in a supply closet down the hall.”

Monty scoffs.

“With a trail of blood leading straight to the door,” he says. He looks at Bellamy. “Quick and silent just like Echo trained us, but someone’s going to see it eventually. We have to move.”

Bellamy’s jaw clenches. He nods.

“Alright, let’s go,” he says. “If we can get to the rover without being seen, there’s a chance we can all make it out of here alive.”

“Where are we going to go?” Clarke asks. “Shallow Valley is days from here, even by rover.”

Harper shrugs her pack to her side and unzips it. She holds up a vial. Monty’s algae.

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing I brought snacks,” she says. “Now let’s go.”

Bellamy looks at her then, and she sees it without him saying a word. Sees the relief in them, the gratitude, the hope—and something else she doesn’t have time to think about right now. He places a hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. She smiles.

And then they’re on the move.

Got a prompt? Check out this post.

@as-inevitable-as-morning @hostagetakerandhistraitor @starboybellamy @babybellblake @bl-ake @bellesolo @deadshotbellamy @johnmurphe @frecklessbellamy @stargirlclarke @griffinnblake @beachfckerblake @broodybellamy @still-watching @bellark-e @boob-morley

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke ficlet #prompt fill #tess answers things #tess writes things #celebration station

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octannibal-blake · 7 years

Note

"We're in this haunted house tour and this smol stranger started holding my hand. I was going to complain but she's pretty, looks scared and holding hands doesn't hurt right?"

not to pick favorites, but this honestly might be my favorite one. thanks for this, nonny!

also, side bar, ya girl is supposed to have internet back by Wednesday!! Thanks everyone for keeping me entertained during these desprate times. I love you all, I really do!

the set up

“You owe me.”

“Shut up, they’re coming.”

“They?”

It’s not like Bellamy tries to be the kind of guy that keepstrack of his favors. He usually does them because he enjoys being a good friendand honestly, it isn’t a big deal. He doesn’t want people to think they can’tcome to him when they need something. But this is a special case. A very specialcase and he is definitely marking this down as a favor that requires repayment.

Haunted Houses are cool, in theory. Paying some money to seescary stuff because adrenaline is fun and there is nothing quite like getting arush after facing your fears. Except he doesn’t find them scary. Haunted housesare corny, with poor costumes and stupid scare tactics. Everyone he’s ever beentoo has had the same setup – one Michael Meyers character, at least one clown(and he suspects that this year, that number will go up thanks to It), and someguy chasing you around with a chainsaw. Predictable and cheesy and not worthhis money. And yet Miller insists that this is different.

“It’s a corn maze,” he had pitched the idea yesterday, “It’llbe way cooler.”

“No.”

“Dude,” he’s never heard Miller plead before but it’s prettysatisfying to see his friend practically on his knees, begging, “Monty isbringing some of his friends and I don’t want him to think I don’t have any.”

“You all met in an online gaming match,” Bellamy pointedout, “He probably already knows that.”

“Please?”

And that’s how he ended up here, outside of a Haunted Mazedoing his best friend a favor. He’s not sure what making a corn field into ahaunted house is supposed to add. Maybe some weird creepy element because it’soutside in the middle of nowhere. He’s mostly bitter because his cell isn’tpicking up service and he had been in the process of setting up a hook up viaTinder (look, he’s a very busy Grad student and doesn’t have time to hit barsto do things the normal way).

He watches as two people approach, one he recognizes asMiller’s new…boyfriend? Date? He isn’t entirely sure, though he supposes thatif they had made things official, Miller wouldn’t have asked him to tag along.He’s never seen his friend this nervous before. When he talks about Monty, hischeeks get all red and he starts to stutter. It’s actually pretty cute especiallysince Miller tries to be all broody and sarcastic all the time. Really, he’sjust as soft as the rest of them.

The second person he doesn’t recognize. She’s a petiteblonde, almost a head shorter than him with long golden curls and a scarfcurrently wrapped around her neck like she might freeze to death without it. It’sat least fifty degrees – definitely jacket weather but the scarf seems a bitexcessive.

“Hey,” Monty greets as they approach and Bellamy cant’s helpbut grin when Miller leans in to give him a kiss. He really wants to documentthis moment, he’s never seen Miller smitten before, but doesn’t want to givethe wrong impression to Monty.

“Monty, this is Bellamy,” Miller extends an arm towards him,“My asshole roommate.”

“And best friend in the whole world,” Bellamy adds, offeringhis hand. Monty shakes it enthusiastically.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiles and then turns to hiscompanion, “This is Clarke. My roommate.”

Miller laughs, “Wait, roommate? Don’t you live in the dorms?”

Clarke pulls the scarf down from her mouth, and he can’thelp but think of how dramatic it seems to be, “They thought I was guy whenthey placed me. Apparently, they don’t understand the concept of gender neutralnames.”

Bellamy smiles at that.

“Nice to meet you,” Miller says politely and Bellamy nods inagreement, “We ready to head in?”

Clarke’s eyes narrow in confusion, “Wait, where are theothers.”

If he had blinked, he would have missed it. Miller and Montyexchange a quick look, though, unreadable. Vaguely suspicious.

“Jasper couldn’t make it and Raven had to work,” Monty saysquickly. He tries to lock eyes with her but didn’t seem to notice like he did.She just shrugs and begins walking towards the entrance. He tries to fall intostep with her to give Miller a small amount of privacy.

“You realize it’s fall and not the dead of winter, right?”he starts as they stand in line. She looks up at him and her eyes catch thelight. They’re an intense shade of blue. Pretty, even.

“I was cold,” she says defensively, though she begins tounwind the thick scarf from her neck. She unzips the jacket she’s wearing aswell, revealing a blue v-neck underneath. He doesn’t mean to look down, but it’s very hard not to notice. She has agreat chest.

“Wow, we just met,” she says and he looks up quickly,clearing his throat in embarrassment. She laughs at his discomfort, “It’s fine.They do look nice tonight.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies stupidly. He decides that he likesher. She’s blunt and doesn’t seem fazed by his apparently lack of manners.

“So, what are you going to school for?” he changes thesubject. It’s a safe subject and he manages to keep his eyes firmly away fromher chest. Fucking dick.

The line moves fairly quickly and it doesn’t take long forthem to reach the entrance. They hand over their tickets and move in, theirgroup consisting of just the four of them. He sneaks a glance back at hisfriend, who has a smile glued to his face and seems to be completely unaware ofhis surroundings. Maybe this is worth it.

“Wait,” Clarke says as the doors close behind them and themaze stretches out before them, “Is this everyone we go with?”

He detects a hint of fear in her voice and when his eyesconnects with her, he sees it plain as day.

“You nervous?” he grins at her.

“No,” her voice comes out a bit high pitch, indicating thatshe’s definitely nervous, “Just…maybe they should go first?”

He looks back at the couple behind them and shakes his head,“Nah, the people at the end of the line always die first.”

“Gee, thanks,” she mumbles and pulls her arms around herself.They walk forward and the maze is strangely quiet, as expected. He’s positivethat someone will jump out at them in the next ten seconds. When they turn thefirst corner, he’s right. Michael Meyers greets them at the edge and holds uphis butcher knife.

He scoffs, “Predicatable.”

He doesn’t really move, just holds up the knife and staresthem down. Clarke doesn’t seem too affected by it, though the guy decides toget uncomfortably close to her face when she passes by and it causes her tomove a little closer to him so their arms are brushing together. No big deal. It’sfine.

But then, not long after that comes the first thing to jumpout at them. They’re walking and suddenly the corn russles and something hopsout right in front of them. Clarke screeches and moves back, knocking intoMiller and nearly causing him to fall over. Clearly, he hadn’t been ready.

“Fuck,” she huffs when the thing disappears back into thecorn.

Miller pushes her gently off him with a laugh, “You good?”

“I fucking hate haunted houses,” she says finally, “I knownone of it’s real but when people jump out at me I kind of want to run away,kind of want to punch them in the face.”

“You should punch the next one in the face,” Bellamy addsquickly, “It would definitely be worth my money.”

She seems to relax slights after that, giving him a warmsmile and continuing forward. The next scene the stumble across isn’t thatscary, just a clearing filled with the children of the corn, which is sort ofdisturbing in its own way, but not scary. It’s when they here a laugh come frombehind him that he feels hand slide into his and grip it, hard.

He almost lets out a surprised grunt, but when she begins tocling to his arm and he sees the sheer terror in her eyes, he decides to let itslide. He squeezes her hand in reassurance. The comfort doesn’t last long as aclown (again, predicatable) begins to chase them down the row. Clarke grips hishand even tighter and drags him along with her as she practically sprints away.By the end of the row, she’s out of breath, but makes no effort to let go.

“Afraid of clowns?” he asks smugly. She sticks her tongueout at him in response. It’s cute, he decides. There isn’t much light in themaze, though they’ve come to the next part which happens to be a janky barn they’resupposed to enter (chainsaw guy is next, for sure). But in the faint light, hetries to get a good look at her. She’s the same age as Monty, making her onlyslightly younger than him. She’s definitely attractive, with her sharp eyes andlong hair. Great chest, too. But there’s also something spunky about her – he cantell in the way she cusses like a sailor and rooms with a guy out of spitetowards a school. She says things like “gender neutral names” and has strangeself-awareness of her own attractiveness.

“We going in, or what?” Miller hisses from behind him and hehadn’t even realized they’d been standing there that long. He pushes the dooropen and they enter. It’s full of clanking weapons and there’s a long tablesitting in the middle. They hear a scream and Clarke is once again glued to hisarm. He can feel her nails digging into his jacket and he shakes his head.

The barn is full of multiple stages, one guy pretending tomaim another person, fake blood spewing everywhere and awful screaming. Thereare four different jump scares, people sticking their head out of holes orjumping in front of them with fake intestines falling out of their stomach.When they reach the otherside of the barn, he hears the rumbling of a chainsaw.It revs from behind them and of course, they’re running again. He follows themand they come to a fork in the maze. They take the left and Clarke is onceagain dragging him along. He lets it happen – he’d hate for her to get stuck byherself.

The chainsaw fades into the background and the mazestretches before them in eerie silence.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly, “I’m sure you didn’tcome just to have your arm pulled out of socket by me.”

“You are surprisingly strong,” he admits. She is. Hisfingers might actually be bruised by the end of it. Totally worth it, though.He is never opposed to having a beautiful girl hang all over him. Wait,beautiful? He doesn’t call people beautiful. Attractive, yes. Hot, even.Beautiful? Shit.

“Where did Monty and Miller go?” she glances behind them andsure enough, his friend is nowhere to be found.

“They probably went right,” he concludes. The fork in themaze is probably meant to separate groups. Make things a little scarier.

“I guess we’ll see them at the end,” she says and theycontinue forward. He offers his hand and she hesitates briefly and he thinksmaybe he’s overstepping his boundaries, but she takes it with a small smile.

“Monty really likes your friend,” she tells him, and heassumes she’s trying to make small talk to silence the paranoia. Something isbound to jump out at them. Better to be distracted and scared rather thanprepared for it and still scared.

“Miller likes him too,” Bellamy smiles, “I’ve never seen himact like that with anyone. Hell, not even me.”

“You all used to date?”

Shit. Maybe not the best thing to tell Monty’s friend. Shemight think he’s jealous or something.

“Oh, uh…” he thinks on it for a moment, “Yeah. Briefly. Wayback in early college. Like Freshman year and I wouldn’t really even call itdating.”

“What would you call it?”

“Shit, I don’t know. Friends with benefits? Figuring out ifI was into guys. Or girls. Or whatever. Which, it’s both. I did learn that.”

She nods thoughtfully, “Yeah, me too.”

Well, fuck. Just when he thinks she can’t get anymoreattractive. The moment doesn’t last long. It’s rudly interrupted by somejackass wearing knock-off Freddy Kruger gloves. The long claws wrap aroundClarke’s arm (somewhere along the years of his avoidance in these things,touching people became allowed, which, what the fuck?). She yelps but ratherthan run or wrap herself around his arm, she rears back and smack the costumedemployee across the face. She wasn’t fucking kidding, holy shit.

“What the fuck?” the guy yells as he stumbles back. Shepulls both hands to her mouth in shock. He can’t hold in his laughter andnearly doubles over.

“I’m so sorry!” she apologizes, “I didn’t know you all couldtouch us. I wasn’t expecting…I…shit I’m sorry!”

“There’s a sign that says it out front!” Freddy Krugerargues back, “Jesus.”

Bellamy does his best to sober up and grabs Clarke’s freehand to pull her away, “The mask probably broke the contact. You’ll be fine.Make the signs bigger.”

In her defense, he hadn’t read the sign either. He pulls heraway and can’t seem to stop laughing about it. She shoves his chest playfully.

“It’s not funny!” she hisses, though he can tell she’s doingher best not to laugh either.

“That was a nice hit,” he compliments, “You really put yourwhole body into it.”

“I took a self-defense class last semester,” she finallycracks a smile, “The beauty of being close to graduation. Easy, bullshitclasses.”

It’s honestly hard to focus on anything else at this point.The people chasing them don’t really have the same effect, and even Clarkeseems unfazed by it all. They reach the end about ten minutes after theincident and double back around to the front to meet up with Monty and Miller.They aren’t there so he assumes they haven’t come out yet.

“Thanks for letting me hang all over you,” she leans backagainst the railing that seperates the parking lot from the line, “I hope Ididn’t hurt you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he says, “Maybe check in withFreddy tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe I did that,” she says incredulously, “Itold Monty this was a bad idea but he insisted.”

Bellamy watches her for a moment, admires the curve of herlip and the mischievous look in her eye, like she could wreak havoc at anymoment while simultaneously saving the world. He has a suspicion that maybethis was purposeful. That maybe Monty and Miller knew what they were doing whenthey asked them to come here. Bellamy hates haunted houses and thinks they’relame. Clarke is terrified of them. And yet they’re the only two to show up. Hethinks about the way Miller greeted Monty with a kiss, something he would dowith someone he was dating and comfortable dating at that. That motherfucker set him up.

He wonders for a moment if Clarke figured it out, but itseems like she honestly thinks her other friends just didn’t show up and Montyreally wanted her to come for moral support. He can’t say he’s really that madabout it anymore. She’s funny. She’s cute. She punches Freddy Kruger’s in theface. Mark him down as gone because this girl, well, he can tell she’ssomething special.

“Where the hell are they?” Clarke asks, bringing him fromhis realization. His phone buzzes at the same time.

Miller: I’m taking Monty to a late dinner. Can you giveClarke a ride home?

Miller: I’d ask if that’s weird, but you all were makinggoogly eyes at each other the whole night.

Miller: Also, you’re fucking welcome. I don’t owe youANYTHING

Bellamy chuckles and slips his phone back into his pocket, “Well,our friends ditched us for a more private date. I can take you home if youwant?”

He hopes it’s not weird for her. After all they’repractically strangers.

“Or you could take me to dinner?” she offers, and her eyesare full of that same mischievous sparkle, “I mean, if you’re going to check me out the least you can do is buy me food.”

Yeah, he’s a fucking goner.

“I’d love to.”

#liz answers #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke prompt fill #happy halloween yall #this is my shit #some good blarke strangers to lovers type ish #minty #i feel the need to tag minty because theyre just as important here #and i love them

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