#bellarke snuggles

[april-showers86]

The 100 1x8 AU: What if Clarke and Bellamy fell asleep together while resting by the tree after their day trip?

#bellarke #bellarke fanart #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #bellamy x clarke #1x8 au #imagemanip #cuddling & snuggling #the 100

[ao3feed-the100]

we go down together.

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2xP7M1Z

by headxheartwriter

Bellamy's heart ached at her words. He had always known that Clarke had left for a reason, but he had never fully understood how much it had hurt her to leave him behind.

"Clarke," Bellamy said softly, placing a hand on her cheek. "You did what you thought was best. I know it wasn't easy for you to leave, but you had to do what you had to do."

Clarke looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "But that doesn't change the fact that I hurt you, Bellamy. I left you behind."

Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia and Jasper fail to get Luna to take the flame and defeat A.L.L.I.E. Luna welcomes the group to stay the night, Clarke and Bellamy room together and they express some feelings and confessions n such…

Words: 5308, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake, Octavia Blake, Jasper Jordan, Luna (The 100)

Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake, Octavia Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake & Jasper Jordan, Clarke Griffin & Jasper Jordan

Additional Tags: Cuddling & Snuggling, Bellarke confession, luna’s rig, The 100 (TV) Season 3, Post-Canon, Oral Sex, Doggy Style, Bellarke getting it on??, City of Light (The 100), Emotional Sex, a lot of snuggling, Naked Cuddling, cuddling and talking about their feelings, Episode: s03e14 Red Sky at Morning (The 100), red sky at morning AU, the blakes, some funny shit at the end happens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2xP7M1Z

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #the 100 #the 100 fic

[igotbellarkeforthat]

Happy BFSN everyone!

Thank you to the lovely @bookwormforalways for tagging me and for your wonderful post 💖

I know no one thought in a million years last week's episode would go down like it did. And I know people are angry and hurt and shocked. So I just want to offer a place to anyone who is hurting, needs somewhere to vent, needs some encouragement, anything.

If you can't bring yourself to watch the end of the show, I understand and support you. And I get it if being involved in fandom is too much right now. But I am so thankful for the Bellarke fam and the people I've met here. I'm planning to stick around after the show ends, and I hope some of you all will too.

Much love, everyone. I hope these pictures of my puppy make you smile.

No pressure tags/sending hugs: @hellyeahbellarkee @is-a-bele @ravensluna @kombellarke @katkomskaikru @kelsalynne @kylie-in-the-sky @a-story-written-in-the-stars @realistic-breadstick @youremyfamilytoo @queenofwhateverwewant @shaeheda @whatscaitdoing @bellamyblakru @bellamysgriffinprincess @katersann @nvermindiseeyou @river-runs-on-insanity @nathanmillers @bellarkyy @buttered-rice1 @natassakar @clo-heda @kykru @queen-of-the-wallflowers15 @poppykru @together-is-my-favourite-place @geekyogicheese @talistheintrovert @eyessharpweaponshot @mechaniicreyes @emoreeblue @burninghoneyatdusk @changingthefairy-tale @infp-with-all-the-feelings @sebsluckycoin @alexmaanes @bellarkesurvivestogether @angstybleuskies @dayo488 and anyone else I usually tag or anyone who wants to participate. Tumblr ate my first tag list, so some people got left off this one. Sorry 😞

#bfsn #bellarke fam selfie night #this is abby #she likes to snuggle #bellarke fam #love y'all

[skairipasoctavia]

| bellarke in 6x11 <3

#bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #snuggles #the 100

[blakefreckles]

i cannot wait for bellarke to be canon so bellamy gets the family he deserves

#bellamy blake #anti octavia #bellarke #like #can you imagine him being appreciated and loved and cherished #and looked up to #and snuggles? #family snuggles #and just #my boy needs to be HAPPY #and octavia is just the worst #ever #im sorry #but he deserves SO MUCH BETTER

[ragnarssons]

Yes hello we asked for BLARKE forehead touches not bleggo

#just saying #bellarke #the 100 #im glad this was cut off ummmm #it's kinda out of place lmao 'wow we just talked about murder let's snuggle'......

[bring-me-bellarke]

3x13 // 4x13

#has this been done #oh well im trash #bellarke hug #parallels #bellarke #the 100 #i love how they both cry and then snuggle shoulders #uggghhhh

[buckyswintersoldiermask]

Movie Night

Modern AU

Bellamy Blake x reader

Masterlists: Bellamy ⊙ 🎉

Summary: you and Bellamy have a movie night and you fall asleep on him

Word Count: 534

Warnings: none just fluff

A/N: there are so many inserts in this one I’m sorry :0 I did not realize how many I put until I finished it

(y/f/d): your favorite drink, (y/f/c): your favorite (anything that starts with a c), (y/f/m): your favorite movie, (y/f/a): your favorite actor, (b/f/m): both of yours favorite movie

Bellamy walked in the door with 3 grocery bags in one hand and his jacket in the other, a lot later than he usually comes home. You had been waiting for him to get home for over an hour

“Where have you been, Bell?” You asked, putting down your phone, walking over to Bellamy.

“I’m sorry, love, I went to get some snacks for our movie night, you didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

“No.” You lied.

“You really thought I’d forget? I love our movie nights, just the two of us, snacks and a nice movie.”

“Well you did take forever to get home, so yeah I had my doubts, Blake.”

Bellamy places the bags on the kitchen counter and you look through them. He got popcorn, (y/f/d) and (y/f/c) for you and some snacks for himself.

“Thank you, babe.” You said before taking all the candy and drinks to the living room. “What movie are we watching tonight?”

“Whatever you want to watch is fine.” Bellamy said from the kitchen, “I think I chose the last time.”

“I don’t know if letting me choose is a good idea, unless you want to watch (y/f/m) again.”

“Well if that’s what the princess wants, I don’t mind.” He said, coming closer to you, kissing you on the lips lovingly.

“We can watch our movie!” You exclaimed, running over to the TV, looking for the movie.

“Our movie as in (b/f/m)?”

“Yes!” You beamed, as you opened the DVD pack and placed the DVD in the player.

“Well I guess that solves our problem.”

Bellamy goes back into the kitchen to make the popcorn while you get the blankets and pillows. Once he came back he sat beside you and you draped your legs over his lap.

You were enjoying the movie and Halfway through Bellamy blurts out, “That actor is really good.”

“I know! I love him.” You said, striking a look from Bellamy.

“You love him more than me?” He asked, half joking and half serious.

“You know there's no one I love more than you. Not even (y/f/a).” Content with that response, he kisses your cheek and goes back to watching the movie.

You continued to watch the movie and Bellamy was into it. He liked watching the movies you picked, even if you go through the same rotation of them each week.

He glanced over at you and noticed you struggling to keep your eyes open. Knowing you’re probably tired after a long day, he chuckled, putting down his popcorn. You had moved during the movie so you were laying your head on his shoulder and you were snuggled up against his side.

The movie was just about over so he let it turn it off before he grabbed a pillow, putting it in his lap so you could lay your head there. All his moving almost woke you up but Bellamy did his best to move slow so you wouldn’t wake up, he fixed the blanket so that it was draped over you well, covering all your limbs.

He leaned down and kissed your head before whispering, “Goodnight, princess.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated :)

Bellamy Tags: @mogaruke @aurora-manwell @loveslilacs @saltycloudpsychiccreater @jbreenr @Bellarke-who

(If you aren’t tagged it’s because it doesn’t let me tag you)

Taglist

#bellamy blake x reader soft #bellamy x y/n #bellamy imagine #bellamy x you #bellamy blake x you #Bellamy Blake x y/n #bellamy blake x female reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake fluff #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake au #bellamy blake modern au #bellamy x reader #buckyswintersoldiermask’s follower celebration #buckyswintersoldiermask’s 300 follower celebration 🎉 #buckyswintersoldiermasksfics

[yiangchen]

thinking about how t100 could have done exactly what qots did and make us think that clarke killed bellamy and then have it revealed in the end that they faked his death and bellamy is alive and well and bellarke are together, raising madi in a cabin in the fields of gold or a little house on the beach. jroth could have still had his precious shock value of bellamy “dying”, but since it’s a fake out, jroth could have even more shock value and we could have our endgame too, and everybody wins!! we really could’ve had it all. i can’t stop thinking about how the reveal could have gone. clarke is sitting on the beach and then the camera pans over to bellamy sitting beside her (kind of like the reveal in dawson’s creek that joey ends up with pacey). clarke is nestled into his side and bellamy has an arm thrown around her as he kisses her temple, and they’re watching madi collecting sea shells in the ocean as clarke narrates the story of how they’d faked bellamy’s death, and we get flashbacks to how they’d pulled it all off and bellarke’s first kiss in the fields of gold and the cabin they’d built there to raise madi in, and then we return to them sitting on the beach, all snuggled up together with a blanket wrapped around both of their shoulders because it’s a little chilly out now, and madi comes bounding up to them with all the sea shells she collected, and clarke is crying a little bit because madi can finally be the kid she never got to be, but she’s smiling through her tears. it’s just so poetic, i think, to end it with bellamy and clarke, the heart of the show, by the sea, as they’d tried to make it there back on earth at the end of s1 and failed, and everything’s come full circle now. they can finally just be happy together for the rest of their lives. yeah, this is canon now idc.

#bellarke

[margoshansons]

hey princess: b.blake x c.griffin

Bellarke Oneshot

Summary: A missing scene from the finale with a certain curly haired leader

Notes: God that finale sure was something. I was missing Bellamy so i wrote this to cope. Full disclosure, I didn’t even really watch these last couple episodes so much as skim through them, so please forgive me if my lore is lacking, also this is not edited. And FUCK JROTH. 

The first person she saw was Raven. With her curled ponytail and red jacket she was impossible to miss, especially when she came barreling toward her at lightning speed, wide smile on her face. 

Murphy collided with her next, the two of them hugging her as tightly as they could. Clarke didn’t wanna let go. She wanted to sink into their arms until everything they’d ever done was washed away. She wanted to stay by their side until the world ended. 

Safety felt like their arms wrapped around her shoulders. 

Safety felt like her family.

But it didn’t feel like home. Nothing felt like home anymore. Not since….

No. 

She wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t think about that. 

Her sins had haunted her for far too long, she refused to carry them with her anymore. If she did she was only surviving, justifying herself for the rest of her life. He had been right. Her sins were too heavy to float away and disappear into nothing. But it was choosing to love, choosing to live in spite of what she’s done. 

Transcendence is a choice, Lexa had said. And they chose her. 

Years of bearing it so they didn’t have to and they chose her. 

Enduring death, the loss of those she loves, and choosing them over herself every time. And they finally chose her back. 

Chattering erupted around her and Clarke was soon bombarded with hugs, Picasso licking her fingertips as she scrubbed his fur, the ever present reminder of Madi causing her heart to constrict. 

Her child was safe. Her child was okay. 

She’d risked everything to ensure Madi lived a peaceful life, and she’d chosen transcendence. She’d chosen peace. 

Clarke wasn’t going to pretend that it didn’t hurt. That Madi had chosen not to return. But she understood it. She had seen too much war to choose anything except peace.

Madi deserved a life free of the horrors she’d endured. Even if it was a life without her in it.

Picasso’s bark pulled her back to reality and Clarke turned to see where the golden retriever was facing. Her eyebrows knit themselves together as she turned to face the same direction. It was toward the treeline. Where beach and woods met and the sun shone down on both of them.

“What is it boy?” Clarke knelt down and scruffed his fur again but Picasso’s gaze remained firmly on the trees, barking once more. 

His fur left her hands and Picasso disappeared amongst the trees. Clarke raced after him. 

“Picasso!” She shouted, not wanting to lose the last reminder of her child she had left, “Picasso come here!”

Her boots crushed the dirt and leaves underneath her feet, trying to ignore the flashbacks of the last time she ran through the trees, of all the times she’d ran. 

“Picasso!”

She skidded to a stop in the middle of a clearing, the forest aglow once again. But unlike when she first landed on Earth, the luminescent forest was the last thing she was paying attention to. Because Picasso had found something she’d thought was long gone. 

Dark hair buried itself into golden fur, a deep voice she’d dreamt about every night ringing through the forest.

“Hey buddy,” it called, scratching the golden retriever’s head, “It’s good to see you too.”

Clarke’s heart overpowered her senses, the thudding all she heard for miles. Her stomach dropped, nerves knotting themselves in her throat, weighing her down in place. It wasn’t possible. He’d chosen transcendence, he’d died on the ground at Sanctum. 

How could he be here?

“Bellamy?” Her breath caught in her throat and blue eyes met brown. 

He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck, long dark curls exactly how she remembered them, just barely dusting the tips of his eyebrows as a relieved smile crossed his face. 

“Hey princess.”

The weight left her and she propelled herself forward, unable to stop her feet from closing the distance between them. He was here. He was alive and he was here. He was alive and he had chosen her. 

Bellamy Blake had chosen Clarke Griffin.

Oxygen was nothing compared to Bellamy’s arms wrapped around her again. Breathing was secondary when she could feel her heart beating in time with his, her chin snuggled into his shoulder like it belonged there. 

His arms squeezed her waist tightly, pulling her close just like he had all those years ago when she’d left Mount Weather. Just like they had when he’d returned from space. Just like they had after floating the Primes. 

Comfort washed over her and the tension inside her disappeared, the knots in her stomach unraveling as she melted into his embrace, no other words needing to be spoken between them.

She was finally safe.

She was finally home. 

#the 100 oneshot #the 100 fanfiction #bellarke oneshot #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fanfic #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellarke #the 100 #season 7 #7x16 #bellamy blake fanfiction #clarke griffin fanfiction #my fics

[star-sky-earth]

dropstitch (1489 words)

bellamy/clarke, rated PG

warnings: ambiguous ending

Inspired by everyone’s favourite bellarke modern au picture, and this post.

The painting is beautiful. Large, stretching from floor to ceiling in a riotous mass of colour, taking up the entirety of Clarke’s vision as if she were standing on the precipice of an entirely new world. As if she could step forward, lift her foot over the boundary wire and walk right into it, her body melting into the paint. This close, the image blurs, the paint lying thick on the canvas, and she has to fight the urge to reach out and touch it, to feel the textured surface under her fingertips, trace the path of each individual brushstroke.

She is staring, absorbed, when she senses movement at her side, the quiet shuffle of someone coming to stand next to her. The painting is 13 metres long - it takes up the whole wall, plenty of room for everyone - and she feels a prickle of annoyance at the intrusion, the shattering of the illusion of privacy. As if she had been walked in on while undressing, or singing loudly in the shower, some small private part of her exposed that she would rather have remained hidden. It is always like this, she thinks, with men.  

She turns to face the intruder, mouth already opening on a snide comment, and there he is.

It is not her fault, she will tell herself later. He is close, too close really, for such a large open space, and how could she have known? That he would be there, right there, and that their eyes would meet, instantly, and hold, and all the breath leave her lungs, the connection hitting like a perfectly landed blow.

The bright overhead gallery lights are unforgiving, sparing no detail, and despite that he is beautiful. Because of that, even. His eyes are a warm brown behind a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses, the skin around them etched with feather-soft lines, and there is a small scar bisecting the curved line of his upper lip, standing out stark white against his tan skin. His hair is unbrushed, dark messy curls, and he is dressed casually, in a wrinkled beige button-down, the sleeves pushed up and rolled around his elbows. One of the buttons is coming loose, and it trails a thin line of dangling white thread.

She imagines painting him. She can’t help it - she is an artist, after all, and then there is where they are, and context is important in these things. She imagines what it might be like, the process of having him sit for her, deconstructing each feature into its most basic parts, his own personal geometry - the arch of his brow, the angle of his jaw, the exact position of each individual freckle on his skin, like mapping constellations - until she could draw him with her eyes closed, his body captured, written into hers like muscle memory. And then, because she really cannot help herself, because she may be an artist, but she is also a woman, and lonely - she imagines waking next to him in bed, watching in the early dawn light as he sleeps, tracing each relaxed line not with the eye of a painter, but a lover. Memorising not just the sight of him, but the smell, the taste, the weight of his body on hers. Absorbing him entirely, until the boundary between their individual bodies fails, collapses into a question of mere semantics, a philosophical problem.

It is both a very long time, and just a few seconds later, that she collects herself.

“I - ” she stutters, and hates herself. “Um, the painting,” she says, gesturing behind her as though he might not have noticed it, somehow.

“Yes,” he says, his voice surprisingly deep. The corner of his mouth twitches, as if he is holding back a smile.

She turns back to the painting, and now they are side by side. He smells good, his cologne rich but not over-powering, and she realises that she is wet, and shifts uncomfortably, squeezing her thighs together underneath her long skirt.

“Beautiful,” he says, after a pause, but the side of her face burns under his gaze, and he is not looking at the painting as he says it.

They stand together, looking at the painting. No, not together, but, also. Together.

The gallery was noisy before, the large space echoing with footsteps and the low hum of whispered conversation, but now it seems to quieten, so all Clarke can hear is her own breath, the thundering of her heartbeat. Her phone vibrates in her shoulder bag, but she ignores it. Her mom, probably, sick of playing with Madi in the Children’s Zone, wondering where she is. She was never that kind of mother. Or grandmother, it seems.

Clarke ignores it.

She risks a glance at his face, but his expression is relaxed, giving nothing away. She’s got her right hand on her shoulder bag, holding it close to her, but her left hand hangs loosely at her side, only a few inches from his. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the distance between their hands seems to lessen, and out of the corner of her eye she notices his hand twitch, his little finger flex, as if he might close the distance. She holds her breath.

“Bellamy!”

The shout rings out across the hall, and she jumps at the sound. Their fingers touch, for an instant.

She looks up at him. He looks as startled as she feels, but there is something else in his expression too. Guilt, and the sight of it wrenches her insides, like someone has wrapped their hands around her intestines and twisted their fists in opposite directions.

“I have to…” he says, his voice trailing off. He takes a deep breath, and then nods in the direction of the shout.

“Of course,” she replied. “Nice meeting you.”

“Yes.” He nods, and then opens his mouth as though he is going to say something else. Closes it, as if he has thought better of it, whatever it was. And then he is moving.

Leaving.

Gone.

Something painful catches in her, a sharp pain just under her ribs and suddenly she’s crying. Like when you stub your toe in exactly the right(wrong) spot and tears spring to your eyes before the pain even registers, someone rushing over to ask if you’re okay. Except she is alone, and when she looks over to the doorway she sees a woman waiting for him, tall and graceful. Brunette. Beautiful, and nothing like Clarke.

The woman looks up, and their eyes meet across the room for a split-second before she is looking away again, he gaze skipping disinterestedly over Clarke.

“Momma!” she hears then, and turns just in time for Madi to run headlong into her, wrapping her skinny arms around her thighs. Clarke bends down and scoops her up, hiding her wet eyes in her daughter’s hair.

“Who is that?” her mother asks, reaching them a moment later. “Do you know him?”

Clarke turns back towards the doorway, still holding Madi. He - Bellamy, she knows his name now - is watching her, his expression unreadable. His eyes flick to the child in her arms, and then back to her, and then the woman next to him tugs on his hand, and he turns away.

Was it her imagination, she will think later that evening, lying in bed with Madi snuggled tight and sleeping against her, or did he hesitate, just for a moment, before he walked away? Did something in his eyes flicker, a muscle in his sharp jaw twitch, before he turned, slow and reluctant? Did he pause, his feet suddenly heavy, almost too heavy to lift, a struggle to make himself walk away?

It would be unreasonable to expect the universe to work perfectly all the time. It is a large machine, after all, with so many small and moving parts, and well out of warranty, held together with little more than tape and super glue, and a good dash of hope. Everyone crossing their fingers and holding their breath, hoping that it won’t sputter and fail and grind to a halt, like driving an old car down a country road, ready at any moment to have to get out and push. If there is anyone in charge - and that, Clarke thinks, is doubtful in itself - they have proved themselves to be an entirely incompetent creator. It is only natural to expect a few hanging threads, a few loose screws, rifling frantically through the instruction manual as the whole thing wobbles dangerously in front of you, threatening to collapse at any moment.

A few dropped stitches.

Clarke smiles brightly at Madi, hoping that her eyes don’t shine too brightly under the gallery lights when she turns back and replies to her mother.

“No.”

#100 #bellamy x clarke #my writing #dropstitch

[april-showers86]

Bellamy watches Clarke draw while they snuggle

#bellarke #bellarke fanart #the 100 #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellamy x clarke #image manip #bellarke snuggles #my otp #they deserve a break

[bellamyblake]

Bellarke with their tiny son Gus headcanons:

In an alternate universe Clarke is watching Bellamy and their six month old son fall asleep on the big, covered with furs bed while she finishes up some work on the table near the fireplace.

She scribbles things down while also listening to Bellamy talk to Gus who’s gushing in his baby glory, yawning with his tiny mouth, eyes drooping.

“Ready for bed, little man? Come here!” Bellamy scoops him up after changing him for bed and carefully lays them down.

Gus always somehow wrapped himself around his dad’s big arm like a monkey on a branch, resting his head over his shoulder and curling up to his side. 

“Okay, that’s good, right?” Bellamy asks before removing a few curls from his forehead and leaning down to kiss their son’s nose. “What story shall we have today, hm? Maybe something from Jason and the Argonauts?” and he’d start talking after pushing the blanket up their bodies. 

Gus falls a few minutes later but Bellamy never stops talking until he’s done even when his son is drooling on his arm and his own eyes are drooping. 

He knew Clarke was listening too. His voice soothed her soul after a long tedious day in medbay or council meetings.

She usually looks up when he’s about done and finds him barely awake himself. The sight of him and their baby boy wrapped so tightly around him warms her heart.

“Your big and small bumps are waiting for you under the blankets.” he mumbles. It was her joke, something she never failed to mention when she finally got in bed herself, wrapping herself tightly around him with Gus in the middle. 

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Don’t let it become hours” he warns, cracking one threatening eye open, making her smile. 

“I won’t.”

“I mean it.” he huffs before adjusting the blanket over Gus one last time and resting his head back on the blanket. 

She knows he’ll probably wake if she doesn’t come back to bed in half an hour so she makes sure to finish her work as fast as she can and soon enough she looks up and finds Bellamy snoring just barely and Gus still sleeping with his tiny arms wrapped around his dad’s, sighing in content every once in a while like every baby does.

She tilts her head and her eyes fill with tears-she had that. She had them. She was lucky enough to get here to this moment with the most beautiful boys in her life.

Slowly, she stands up and still teary eyed she quickly changes into Bellamy’s blue shirt and snuggles under the blanket, kissing Gus’ freckled forehead up before Bellamy instinctively throws his other arm over at her and brings them all together. 

She closes her eyes thinking she’s the happiest girl in the world.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #idk what this is im sorry #just came to me today #i know no one cares about this #i just had bellamy and his son wrapped around his arms image in my head all day #like them just laying together in bed and gus drooling on his papa's arm while clarke watches them #my writing #headcanons

[bellarkestitchdelena]

SNUGGLE UP TO ME SO I CAN HATE YOU LESS

@sparklyfairymira SURPRISE!!!!!! I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA FOR @bellarke-secretsanta. Let me tell you i almost had a heart attack on Christmas eve when i saw someone else had gotten you, but i checked and it was for a different event. I hope you arent too dissapointed it was me who got you. You asked for either a meet ugly where they keep bumping into eachother or a snowed in enemies to lovers snowed in fic. I went with the latter. This fic, may also be why i havent responded to the messages you sent me😬😬. Sorry about that!!! I really hope you like this!!! Also hope you like the moodboard.💞💞💖💖🎄🎄🎄

#bellarke #bellarke secret santa #sparklyfairymira #bellarke moodboard

[delicatebluebirdruins]

Shadow and Bone

This will contain spoilers (duh) some names being forgotten and its going to get long and some context less chaos

I hope i got the image ids right

Episode one (23rd April)

- ahh so the Fold= Dark Island form VoDT but with less summoning of monsters?

ID: Ben Barnes holding onto the wheel of a boat

- Many smol beans

Brief interlude with Nausicaa Valley of the Wind

Episode 1 cont. up to midway episode 7 (24th)

- magical brown trouser time my good sir

- buddies!!

- they’re not going to leave Alina alone to her existential crisis are they?

That tent looks like a circus tent to me and I have no idea why

- hmm hello completely innocent fallen branch

me: turns to sis and asks if we can we take brief intermission for this headbanger (which we did)

Turns out our brief intermission for the song was useless because after pressing play again it started buffering

we were talking about it and Dad misheard it as shaggy bone

Imagine the darkling but in pastels and black lace

- how the flipping heck can you fake bleeding light

- do you want to get lost Alina?

On Ben Barnes beard: 50% hot damn and 50% fight me (the way he tilts his head in this makes us want to hit him in the jugular)

Episode 3

- ooh look at the stag

- i love the bathroom

- damn Nina

- I wish Alina had time to get some magic tips but oh well

- replays Ben Barnes saying Moya Tsarieta twice

- how?! (Look I told you there was going to be bits where the context is tricky to pin point)

- i love the goat

- oh Jesper

- blue and gold is a great colour combination

- about the dinner scene: if this were me it would be the very rare time I stand up for myself

+ I want to add a small thing about the food taster... one is dream job/ i like him/ and imagine a taster eating something and it goes down the wrong way

- yes Jesper hug the goat- and

ID: a man with his thumb up gif from The Hunger Games; with him saying “nice shooting sweetheart” but I couldn’t find a gif of him saying it

- true north? I am never going to be free of bellarke am I?

- oh that hurts

Episode 4

- “our saint has arrived to late” 🤧

- ohh the stag is so pretty

- horses!!!

- time for a heist- i love this goat

- aww wishing fountain bonding

- the darking is growing on me

- i love Mikhail and Dubrov

- I love what we get to see of Nadia and Marie and Kaz and Inej and Jesper and basically everyone

- i love a heist (this isnwhat the hobbit should of been but you know with more dragons

- Mal is baby

- poor Nina

- ah ha a vicious cycle against the Grisha and Fjerdan

- I thought Arkens reaction was a bit odd

- oh Alina sweet heart- flashback time

- the map room is a aesthetic- using Aleksanders own words against him

That shot of the two of them is great

- poor Alina

- yas queen

- oh the stag!

- oh the machine gun; Mal poor buddy and of course flashback time

- i knew she was going to get the scar removed

Episode 5

- poor Mal

- Nadia is me

- Genya is amazing

- hi David and great minds think alike Alina (i had the same expression on my face when they were flirting)

- oh the creepy masks had a purpose

- “you’re not Ivan” you don’t say

- aand height difference... this first kiss is kind of weird to me

- oh Jesper you flirt

- I’m sorry firey people you’re going to be outshined

- Inej is so beautiful

- Dima?!?!

ID: two people from a scene in the Anastasia Musical the song My Petersburg

- what is the librarians dudes problem?

- Genya you badass... poor Marie (does Alina learn about this?? It would probably be forgotten just like her causing the death of her fellow mapmakers)

- I love the costumes

- Tofin (Idk his name) we don’t know you sorry you’re dead

- oh the kissing

ID: a gif showing two people kissing

- and him giving her the flowers is kind of cute but where did they come from?

- *pinched nose* I hate cryptic messages Baghra... holy shit... i mean I kinda knew he was immortal but still holy shit

- oh Kaz... Inej! Collect your bloody knives

- *snorting* The crows being sent to kidnap Alina and Jesper just watching her climb into the getaway carriage will always be hysterical (i personally would be laughing and thats why anything involving stealth is off the cards for me)

Episode 6

- rest in pieces Arken

- Alina broke Inej

- I love Ivan (remember the thing i said about forgetting names/ getting them mixed up? This is it.. I love Feydor a lot more than Ivan but they are both so cute together)

- my heart will go on starts playing?

- i like that horse statue in the background

- i love the beach... look at those waves... the wet look is great

- you done mess up Alina but also cool

- Mal is burly squid

- “burly squid” wheezing nosies

- now hug

- Kaz I love the cane

- “I see you now” aww

- I knew they were going to snuggle... those cute laughs

- the alarm clock though... i knew Inej should have taken the knife... i love Jesper... poor Inej... clever boy Kaz

- does it hurt? Mal? Does it hurt?

I have a habit at picking at things that hurt and well fictional characters aren’t safe from me wanting to poke something painful

- ride OR die bitches

- aand more height differences... getting very close there guys... Matthias please don’t let her fall.... they are kind of cute

- David through a book... 😂 they carriage jacked the Darkling

- David raising his hand is me... but damn it

- Alina is amazing... please remember you’re wearing the ring... Mal is best boy

- “adorable” snorting noises

Episode 7

- horsey!!!

- ahh the return of the VoDT hair (see first gif)

- Luda is familiar...

- yikes

- poor Aleksander being turned into a pincushion is not a great time

- poor Luda

- holy shit

- rock and hard place

- fuck off Baghra

- he wanted to help 😔

- ah so its like the hollow from Charmed

Image ID: gif from the og Charmed with text saying “ohhh she’s a demon!”

- this shot is beautiful... ah so I guess this could have been what happened if Caspian resurrected the White Witch... i guess

- hi stag.... oh okay 😔 poor Stag poor Mal

Flashbacks to Cinderella and Snow White (the one with Krisien Sterwart) natually it follows along with Snow White

- *squishie noises* poor Jesper... we love you Jesper but please stop talking to Inej just in case she sews her finger to the wound

- i love the crows and i love the chat about the crows

Buffers

The next day (25th) episode continued

- David looks so sad

- personally I would downsize the fold just as reminder of it

- that looks like that hurt

- I love Milo and Jesper 💖

- don’t look at it Alina... Genya is right that colour is horrible... tell her off Alina... poor Genya

- I think Jesper had fun playing a guard

- I knew the Darkling read the letters

Sister: why does he look like Tom Ellis right now?

- oh Mal

- blow dart... lol Kaz

- Milo!?! Oh the bullet you clever boy Mal

- i like the tent... he’s not wrong... we want to play with that dangly bit... oh the angst

- I thought you looked older (idk context)

- I love the outfit but couldn’t the necklace be anywhere else?

- “no mourners no funerals”

- I love the music

Episode 8

- I don’t trust that opening

- me too Crows, me to... how could you not know who Milo is

- I love Nina and Matthias so much... they are so pretty... I am not a fan of taxidermy... oh his name is Feydor sorry we kept getting you mixed up

- God damnit Kirigan.. a not so sneaky Mal... the honorary Crow... pick a side already darkling... Sun Queen?... did anybody notice her being tied down?... Good Mal and good Inej

- Jesper is amazing... so much death... bad bitch Zoya... I love Inej kissing the knife and nailing the Darkling with it... head shot... hello buddy??... this music though... badass Alina... fucking Ivan... holy shit and of course music is amazing

+ brave Kaz

- Inej and Alina bonding time... hugs? No hugs ☹️

- he offered her his hand 😞... Inej wants to hug... finally some hugs... Zoya has grown on me... i love Kanej (is that the ship name)

- Matthias oh no buddy... hill house flashbacks

- i love Jesper so much... Nina going “someone say heartrender??”

Image ID: someone turning around and raising eyebrows at camera

- Kaz saying “she’s a saint” made my heart happy

- I doubt the Darkling is dead...... i was right

- well shit/ coolness of making shadow monsters follow you (please let there be a flashback for this)

Bonus

+ imagine of Matthias and Nina decide to sleep rather than get food and were caught cuddling by the Grisha... I thought of this as I was getting into bed that night and i got up ran to my sister told her my thought she found the idea funny then went back to bed

+ people who own trains are evil?? Looks at snowpiercer

Bonus: the soundtrack is on spotify and itunes

Image id: someone bobbing along with headphones on

#shadow and bone netflix #ellie watches #spoilers #long post

[chronictonsillitis]

this bed ain't big enough for the two of us (a bellarke fic)

“Just stay up late, like the rest of us,” Bellamy said, turning back to his desk, “Or find somewhere else to sleep.”

Futilely, he tried to zone back in his homework. His eyes narrowed as he heard not the sound of the door, but a creak of bedsprings and the ruffle of covers.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked.

“Yes?”

He turned slowly to face her. “That is not what I meant.”

**** Clarke's roommate Octavia keeps sexiling her at inopportune times. Good thing their RA is Octavia's brother and also a complete pushover. (a bedsharing fic)

(AO3) or

She stalked past him into his room the minute the door swung open, audibly huffing. “Your sister is a fucking menace.”

“Please, do come in,” Bellamy said blandly. Dropping the door, he leaned up against it as it shut, crossing his arms across his chest. He raised an eyebrow at the blonde.

Clarke was dressed for bed, but she looked ready to fight. Her face was bright red, and she clutched a bag of toiletries tightly in one fist. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and Bellamy had to actively force his eyes away from creamy skin exposed by her tank top.

He’d met Clarke the week of move-in, a few months back. Bellamy was both her RA and her roommate’s brother, so he knew her probably better than any of the other people on the hall, with the exception of Octavia. They did not, as a rule, get along very well; at least topically. Bellamy and Clarke ended up in the same circles a lot because of Octavia and other mutual friends, and they spent a lot of that time sniping at each other.

That said, she was smart, and funny, and nice to his sister, and half the time when they fought it was more a battle of wills than anything else. Bellamy liked her, honestly, even if he was loathe to admit it; but it was still a surprise for her to be here, in his room, at this hour of night.

Did he mention she was pretty? Clarke was very pretty, even when she was clearly enraged.

“Your sister,” Clarke spat, her teeth gritted, “Has somehow, in the five minutes I was in the bathroom, managed to come home and start fucking her boyfriend in our room.”

Bellamy blinked. “What?”

Clarke threw up her hands in frustration. “Octavia and her boyfriend are boning in my room. It’s already 11:30, and I have an 8 AM class tomorrow.”

Bellamy looked at her, confused. And more than a little grossed out, really. “And you’re telling me… why?”

“You’re the RA!” Clarke growled. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, do something?”

Bellamy snorted. “That’s not really in my job description,” he drawled, pushing off the wall. Crossing the room, he sat back down at his desk in front of his work.  Clarke continued to stand in front of his bed, glaring at his back. He gestured with a highlighter towards the door. “Feel free to see yourself out.”

“Are you serious?” Clarke protested. “It’s roommate conflict, and quiet hours. That’s definitely RA stuff.”

Bellamy spun lazily in his chair to face her. She crossed her arms indignantly, her chin high.

“Honestly, Clarke, if it were anybody else I might humor you.” He shrugged apologetically. “But it’s O. And for the sake of our relationship, I’m going to continue willfully pretending that Lincoln doesn’t exist.”

Clarke groaned. “But what am I supposed to do?” Her voice was shrill, almost a whine, and it made Bellamy want to laugh. “I need to go to sleep.”

Bellamy shrugged again. “Stay up late, like the rest of us.” He turned back to his desk. “Or find somewhere else to sleep.”

“Fine,” she said.

Bellamy nodded. “Great. Glad to help.”

Futilely, he tried to zone back in his homework. His eyes narrowed as he heard not the sound of the door, but a creak of bedsprings and the ruffle of covers.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked.

“Yes?”

He turned slowly to face her. “That is not what I meant.”

She looked innocently at him from her spot tucked beneath his blankets. His dick twitched at the image of her in his bed, and he willed it down. It was inappropriate. She was a freshman, and he was technically an authority figure, even if he was pretty shitty at his job. Just because she was Octavia's roommate and they hung out more off the hall than on did not mean she was exempt from his RA oversight. Seriously. It didn't.

He internally pointed an accusing finger at his libido. It didn't.

“You can’t sleep in my bed.”

Clarke blinked up at him. “Why not?” She asked petulantly. “You’re not using it.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “I will be.”

She shrugged and rolled over, snuggling deeper into the covers. “Wake me up when you need it. I’m sure they’ll be done by then.

He stared at her back for a minute, considering, then shrugged. He flicked on his desk lamp, and got up, going over to the wall and turning off the overhead.

Clarke sighed contentedly from his bed. “Perfect.”

Bellamy tried to focus on his work and not the sleepy sounds of the girl behind him. Eventually the clock hit 2 AM and he closed his books with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes.

He stood up, looked at the blonde curled up snugly in his bed, and shook his head. Grabbing his toiletries, he slipped out of his room to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. When he returned, he sat on the edge of his bed and gently shook Clarke awake.

“Hey, c’mon,” Bellamy said softly. “Time for you to go to your own bed.”

Clarke blinked at him slowly and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Just past two in the morning.”

Clarke nodded, wetting her lips, and sat up. Bellamy watched with barely concealed amusement as she dragged herself out of the bed and fumbled for her things with barely opened eyes, collecting them and lurching towards the door.

“You know,” he said, a small grin teasing the corners of his lips. Clarke looked at him, one hand on the doorknob. “You could say thank you.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed and she flipped him the bird. Bellamy laughed as the door clicked shut behind her. He stripped off his shirt and flicked off his desk lamp, climbing into the bed she’d just vacated. The sheets were warm and his pillow smelled sweet, girly somehow. It wasn’t a bad smell, he decided.

Not at all.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep quickly, dreaming of blue eyes and blonde hair and full tits in a thin purple tank top.

Oh yeah, Bellamy thought upon waking; sweet smell in his nose, hard cock tenting his pants. He was definitely fucked.

****

The next time she knocked was a little over a week later, just long enough for Bellamy to be surprised to find her waiting outside his door.

“Did you need something?” he asked, standing in the jamb of the doorway, door propped open with one arm.

Clarke pouted at him. She was wearing a different tank top this time, he noticed somewhat unwillingly. This one was white. And just a little bit see-through.

She looked up at him puppy dog eyes that made him instantly suspicious. “Are you going to be up for a while longer?”

“Maybe,” Bellamy said effusively, knowing that he certainly was. “Why?”

“Great,” Clarke said brightly, trying to step past him into his room. Bellamy rolled his eyes and closed the door slightly, blocking her passage.

“Oh, come on!” Clarke huffed, and Bellamy cracked a smile. “Please?”

“Nice try,” he said. “But no.”

Bellamy gave her a smirk and went to turn back into his room, but Clarke stuck her foot in the door, stopping it from closing. He frowned at her.

“What part of no was unclear to you?”

Clarke smiled sweetly back in response. “The part where if you don’t let me stay, I’m going to sit outside your door and loudly describe, in detail, what I just walked in on in my room.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

There were few things in life Bellamy wanted to hear about less than his little sister’s sex life. Maybe no things, in fact. Clarke had picked nearly the ultimate ammunition. He should resent it, but honestly, he was a little impressed.

Clarke’s grin grew wider. “Oh yes, I really would.”

Bellamy let out a big sigh, and opened the door fully, letting her in. She immediately climbed into his bed, curling up and closing her eyes with a catlike satisfaction that made Bellamy smile despite himself.

“You play dirty, Princess,” he noted, watching her from his place beside the door.

“I know,” Clarke said with a yawn. “Can you turn off the lights please?”

“So needy,” he grumbled; but complied, flipping them off and going back to sit at his desk. “This is the last time, alright? Either work it out with O or find somewhere else to go.”

Clarke hummed in response. “Shhh,” she said, her voice muffled by his comforter, “I’m sleeping.”

Bellamy just shook his head.

****

It wasn’t the last time, not by far.

It honestly wouldn’t have been so much of a problem, but Bellamy actually liked Clarke. She was snarky, and smart, and beautiful; and 100% off limits, because, again, she was a freshman and his sister’s roommate and he was her RA. That would be bad. Bad vibes. No good, creepy, dirty rotten vibes.

Even if his sister, who was the same age as Clarke, was dating a guy the same age as Bellamy, it was still bad. Because Bellamy did not approve of that relationship, so he definitely couldn’t use it to justify crushing on Clarke. Because that would be hypocritical of him, so he absolutely couldn’t crush on Clarke, no matter how hard it was not to do so.

And he wouldn’t have such a hard time not crushing on Clarke if he didn’t have to smell her on his sheets and wake up with her name on his lips.

Well, probably, at least.

So she definitely couldn’t keep sleeping over. It wasn’t working, and he needed to nip it in the bud before anyone (Bellamy) got in too deep.

The fifth time she came by, Bellamy tried just not responding to her knocks. This was not an effective strategy, because after the fifth knock, she simply opened his door and strode right in, planting herself directly in his bed as he gaped at her.

“Um— No?”

Clarke shrugged petulantly. “You weren’t answering the door.”

“You can’t—” Bellamy stuttered, eyes wide. “What if I’d been naked or something?”

Or watching porn, he thought in horror, imagining Clarke seeing just what he’d been watching lately. His normal type was tall, thin, leggy brunettes; which was reflected in his porn habits,  but for some strange reason, he hadn’t been finding himself clicking on those kinds of videos lately.

No, these days he watched more along the lines of ‘Busty Amateur Blonde Coed Gets Railed By Massive Cock!!!’ or, you know, something similar. Something more or less tasteful, but just as absolutely damning.

His theory about the smell of her on his sheets being his root problem was probably not quite as accurate as he hoped, but too bad. Bellamy could dream.

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, dismissing the question. “Okay, but you weren’t naked.”

“But what if I had been?”

He needed to stop imagining that exact scenario. It was making him sweat.

Clarke looked at him demurely, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “What if I’d been someone else and you hadn’t answered?”

Bellamy glared at her. “I knew it was you, no one else comes by this late.”

Clarke gave him a satisfied look as he walked into her trap. “But what if it hadn’t been?”

“You—” Bellamy started, narrowing his eyes and pointing an accusing finger at her. Clarke smiled sweetly back, and he let out a huff, deflating. “You’re a pain.”

Clarke hummed in agreement, wrapping herself up in his blankets. He watched as her blonde hair splayed gold across his pillow, which would undoubtably smell like her for at least the next two days.

Bellamy had to force his eyes away from her, turning his attention back to his work. After a few minutes though, she broke the silence.

“Hey, Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

His hand clenched around his pen and his eyes closed tight for a second. Her voice was so soft, so sweet, so fucking—he had to stop.

“What?”

Clarke let out a breathy hum that shot right to his dick. Maybe she wanted to tell him she liked him. Maybe this was all some big seduction, and she was going to ask him to join her and—

“Can you turn out the lights?”

Bellamy groaned.

****

After that, he started locking his door so she couldn’t just waltz in. This, unfortunately, was just as effective as he’d hoped.

Which is to say, it kept her out of his room, but not his head.

“Who is it?” Bellamy called out, when he heard the first knock.

There was no response. Instead of stopping, which was his expectation of how this would play out, the knocking came faster, more insistent.

Which, okay, he knew was probably her, but he couldn’t just leave a student stranded in the hall. He went to the door and cracked it open, catching just enough of a peek of blonde before closing it again, sliding the lock shut.

“Hey!” Clarke called.

“Go away, Clarke.”

“There’s no where else to go!”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, leaning his weight on the door with one hand. “There’s couches in the common room.”

“C’mon, Bellamy,” she whined outside his door. “Please, just let me in.”

He felt it pull at his heart, begging him. He thought, maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad. Who was he really hurting by letting her sleep there? Definitely not her.

And if she was there, he’d be able to look at her, and listen to the little breathy noises she made as she fell asleep. He wondered what tank top she was wearing tonight, if it was the white one. Bellamy really liked the white one, because— Okay, no. No, no, no.

“Sorry! Can’t hear you! Putting my headphones in!”

Bellamy walked back to his desk and sat down, listening to her grumble outside the door. Eventually, he heard her stomp down the hall.

When he climbed into bed that night, his pillow didn’t smell like anything but detergent. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel any better.

****

She didn’t come back for weeks after that.

This made Bellamy both happy, because he could finally stop popping a hard-on every time he sniffed his pillow; and sad, because he really fucking wanted to see Clarke in his bed again.

He saw her during the day, sure, but their schedules didn’t line up quite so well anymore, and she was so different in public. Harder, somehow.

Not to mention she wore more clothes, although he should’ve taken that as a blessing. Unfortunately, even with Clarke no longer sleeping in his bed, Bellamy still regularly dreamed about her. Her and her smart mouth, and her full tits, and her sweet smile and— he was fucked! Just absolutely fucked.

The knock this time came around 9 PM, which made it stand out. Clarke usually didn’t come until later, and she hadn’t been by since the last time when he’d refused to let her in. Still, better to be cautious.

“Who is it?” Bellamy called.

“It’s Clarke.” Of course it was. He grinned, leaning back in his chair. At least she still wanted to sleep in his bed, even if he couldn’t let her.

“No.”

Clarke huffed behind the door.  “Bellamy, seriously, this time I really need to come in.”

He tossed his pen up in the air and caught it, lips curled in a smug smile. “Seriously, you really need to find somewhere else to go. It’s not even late anyways, just wait up.”

“I’ve been sleeping on the couches like you suggested—which by the way, fucking sucks—but this time I seriously need to come in.”

Her voice was sincere —desperate, even— and Bellamy frowned, sitting back up. “Why?”

“Just—” Clarke sighed heavily. “Will you please open the door? Just this once, I promise.”

Bellamy was getting a little worried, so he gave in, standing and making his way over to the door. He unlatched the lock and peered down at her through a crack in the door.

“Oh,” he said, and stepped back from the door.

Clarke followed him in, quietly glaring. She was wearing only a towel, hair wet on her shoulders, clearly having just come from the shower.

“Uh,” Bellamy stuttered, rucking a hand through his hair. He tried to keep his eyes averted but they kept being drawn back to the glistening skin. “Do you— can I get you something to wear?”

“Please.” Clarke sat down on his bed and Bellamy’s mouth went dry as the towel strained at the top where it was tucked above her breasts.

He continued staring down at her, throat ticking. “Right, I—” She raised one eyebrow and her his eyes away, flushing. “You can just grab whatever.”

Bellamy gestured at the dresser and sat back down, trying to school his expression. “Shirts are on top, shorts and sweatpants are on the bottom.”

He listened to the sound of his drawers opening and closing, pretending to focus on his work, but all he could think about was how she was right there, so close, and so nearly naked. The scent he’d smelled on his pillow must have been her shampoo, because it was strong enough for him to smell it from his desk, warm and sweet and damp, carried like steam from her wet hair.

“Don’t turn around,” Clarke warned, and Bellamy nodded.

His fingers clenched around his paper with a crunch as he heard the soft thump of her towel hitting the ground behind him. Bellamy listened to the ruffle of cloth as she dressed and tried desperately not to picture the skin being covered up.

“Okay,” Clarke said, and Bellamy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It’s safe.”

He turned in his desk chair to look at her and nearly groaned. She’d picked his soccer shirt from high school, emblazoned with his name across the back, and—

“Are those my boxers?”

Clarke blushed and looked down, tugging on the hem of the shirt that nearly covered them completely. God, he was so fucked for this girl. Just excruciatingly fucked. Someone up there had to be playing a joke on him. “Sorry, was that not okay?”

Bellamy shrugged. “No, no, it’s—” So fucking hot, he thought, and swallowed hard, shaking the words away. “It’s fine.”

“Alright, cool,” Clarke said, smiling shyly. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to be naked, I’ll go to the common room now.”

She moved towards the door and Bellamy’s heart leapt into his throat.

“No!” Clarke stopped still, startled, and Bellamy winced, collecting himself. “Sorry, I just meant, uh— you can stay, if you want.”

“Oh,” she replied, surprised.

Bellamy shrugged, attempting to come off nonchalant and not like the absolute creepy pervert he was being. “I mean, just this once, if you want.”

“Okay,” Clarke agreed, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Thanks.”

“I’ll just—” he stuttered, gesturing to the papers he’d been grading. His ears were hot, and he hoped to god that he wasn’t visibly blushing.

“Right.” Clarke settled onto his bed, and he turned back to his desk, mentally cursing himself.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice curious.

He turned to look at her, surprised. “Grading papers.”

She was sitting up on his bed, leaning up against the wall, her head cocked slightly as she watched him.  “For what?”

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Shouldn’t you—why aren’t you sleeping?”

Clarke shrugged, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. “Sorry, it’s still kinda early, even for me, but I’ll stop bothering you.”

“No!” Bellamy said quickly. “No, it’s fine, I was just wondering. The papers are for the class I TA.”

“Yes, I figured,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “But what class?”

“Uh, Magic and Myth in the Roman Tradition.” He gave her an abashed smile, rubbing the back of his neck. He had learned over the years that Classics? Not a sexy field of study. In fact, usually so decidedly unsexy that he often got teased, even if it was friendly. “Probably not your thing.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted, but grinned back. “But how will I know if you don’t tell me about it?”

Oh, for the love of— Fuck. She was perfect. Sitting there on his bed, in his clothes, eyes fucking sparkling, not making fun of him for his embarrassing interests—

Bellamy leaned back, and told her everything.

****

She was back three days later. Despite his better judgement, he unlocked the door on the first knock, leaning in the doorway to look at her.

“So I know you said just this once…” Clarke trailed off, giving him a hopeful grin.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, and opened the door wider, letting her past.

Clarke’s eyes widened and she bounced into the room, throwing herself into his pillows with a sigh. Bellamy watched, amused.

“Tired?”

Clarke groaned, closing her eyes. “Fucking exhausted.”

His lips quirked into a small smile and he turned back to his desk, settling in front of his work. After a few minutes of pretending to read his paper, his eyes flicked over to Clarke, happily tucked beneath his comforter.

“You know,” he said, tapping his pen against the edge of the desk. “You haven’t given my clothes back yet.”

She peeked her head out of the covers, gazing at him petulantly. “They look better on me.”

And, in her defense, Bellamy agreed with her. They did certainly look better on her. In fact, they looked fantastic. Wonderful enough that Bellamy hadn’t stopped thinking about it since she’d left his room, but, then again, he was fucked.

Something deep and possessive in him had really liked seeing Blake on her back as she’d left the room. He wondered if anybody else had seen. He kinda hoped they had.

Which, no! Bad! He was her RA. It would be inappropriate for the other freshman on hall to see her wearing his clothing. Definitely bad. Very bad.

But, god, did he wish.

“You can’t keep them,” he said, not meaning it for a goddamn second.

“I’ll bring them by tomorrow,” Clarke muttered, and rolled away from him. “Now hush.”

Bellamy put in a token grumble, but suppressed a smile, watching as she made herself comfortable in his bed. In his fucking sheets. Not in his clothes this time, which was a goddamn shame. He wondered if he could somehow gift them to her.

That night, when he woke her up to leave, she yawned and put a hand on his cheek.

Bellamy froze as she gazed up at him with tired blue eyes. “This won’t be the last time.”

Her voice was soft, teasing, and he felt his heart clench with joy and hope and—something else.

“No,” Bellamy said, and smiled. Clarke grinned back, dragging herself upright as he sat back and watched. “No, I don’t think it will.”

****

And it wasn’t. Clarke was back regularly, at least three times a week. He didn’t fight her on it anymore, and he didn’t lock his door unless he was actually doing something unsavory.

It became almost routine, having her come in. She’d slip through the door and plop right into bed, rolling herself up in his sheets. Sometimes she’d stay up and they’d talk about her classes, her friends, his friends, the world, anything really. Sometimes she’d turn out the overhead light as she came in and he’d know it wasn’t a talking night. He started to keep his desk light on in the evenings, just in case.

Tonight had been a tired night, and all he’d heard from her was the soft sounds of her falling asleep. She didn’t talk in her sleep, not quite, but she did make these little groans. Bellamy really liked hearing them. He didn’t care to put a lot of critical thought into why that was, nor about just when those sounds made a reappearance in his imagination.

Nope, nothing unsavory here.

When it was time, he shook her awake as usual and watched her leave, taking a deep breath before gathering up his toiletries and heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he’d finished, Bellamy started to make his way back to his room, but as he passed by the common room, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair.  Why was she—?

“Clarke?”

Her head twisted, looking at him. “What?”

His eyebrow’s furrowed, mouth curving into a frown. “Why don’t you just go to your own room?”

“I tried,” she sighed. “They’re not done.”

Bellamy made a face. “Seriously?”

Clarke shrugged, looking exhausted. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

“You’re just gonna sleep out here?”

She smiled wryly at him. “Don’t really have anywhere else to go, as my spare bed is about to be occupied.” She nodded her chin at his sleep pants. “It’s fine, like I said, it’s not the first time.”

And Bellamy— he really didn’t like that for some reason. It sat twisted in a hard ball in his throat, choking him.

He thought about her face as she slept, so soft and vulnerable, and the idea of someone else coming into he common room and finding her. Someone else seeing her, asleep in her little shorts and her goddamn too thin tank top, the buds of her nipples clearly visible through the fabric. Someone else touching her, shaking her to wake her up, offering her their bed, climbing in after her— No. He didn’t like that at all.

(Dude…..Fucked.)

“You know, I’m sure we could both fit in my bed,” Bellamy blurted, and immediately blanched, running a hand along the back of his neck. “I mean, if you want.”

Clarke eyed him, her expression implacable. “Is that— are you offering?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bellamy said, and shrugged. He felt tension grown with each passing second. “Sorry, that was inappropriate, I—”

“No!” Clarke said quickly. “No, I mean, that would be great. If you’re sure.”

He grinned tentatively. “Okay, cool.”

She got up and followed him to his room, climbing back into his bed. Bellamy stood by the door, throat ticking, one hand on the light switch.

This was— more than he had necessarily prepared for. All the time of her in his bed, sure he’d imagined joining her, but for it to really be happening… What was he supposed to do? Which side was he supposed to take? What if they touched? Would he wake up before her, or would she be gone in the morning?

Clarke turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to stand there all night or are you coming to bed?”

Bellamy’s lips quirked up, and he flicked off the light.

He slid into bed, feeling the distant warmth of her body in his sheets. His bed really was big enough for the two of them, and he lamented the fact. It was hard to think about sleep with her so close, the smell of her hair stronger than ever what with the source being within touching distance, but eventually his eyes closed, and he drifted off.

He woke up in the morning to an unfamiliar alarm, and a blonde clamoring over him. His hand reached out automatically to grab her arm and she stopped with one knee on either side of his body, looking down at him.

“Uh, sorry,” Clarke said, looking away. In his drowsy state he caught a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. She was embarrassed. Embarrassed to have stayed with him? Bellamy wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I really have to—”

She tugged at the arm in his grip and he released her. “Right.”

She gave him a tight smile, climbing off him and turning off her alarm. “Well, I’ve got to go to class, but thanks.”

“No problem,” Bellamy said, swallowing hard. “I mean—it was just this once. No big deal.”

“Right, of course.” Clarke looked away from him, her expression unreadable. “Well, thanks anyways.”

Bellamy watched as she gathered up her stuff and headed for the door. “Right, yeah.”

She nodded as she left. “See you around.”

The door swung shut behind her, and Bellamy let out a long breath. “Fuck.”

That was— he did not handle that well. He wasn’t sure how exactly he should’ve handled it, but it wasn’t like that. It was so fucking awkward, she’d never want to come back.

He pulled down the covers and glared down at the insistent erection that had emerged as Clarke had straddled him, her bare thighs flanking his stomach, hips just north of his crotch, so tantalizingly close and—

Bellamy threw an arm over his eyes, hissing through his teeth.

“Fuck.”

****

He tried not to obsess about it, about having had Clarke in his bed with him. After all, it was just one time, and nothing had happened.

That may have made it worse though. He couldn’t help but feel like her had squandered his only chance, like he should’ve stayed awake and made the most of every second, even though that would’ve been fucking creepy and also probably not as interesting and romantic as his brain was making it out to be.

Still, Bellamy kept himself satiated with the fact that she kept coming back anyways, even if he didn’t get to share the bed with her.

One night a few weeks later, he came out of the bathroom from brushing his teeth to find Clarke walking in the opposite direction of her room. Bellamy frowned.

“Where are you going?”

She looked back at him, confused. “Common room.”

His jaw clenched, eyes widening. “Again?” Clarke shrugged, and Bellamy’s frown deepened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her eyebrows drew together, forehead wrinkling. “Why would I?”

“Oh,” Bellamy said, his voice short. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to seem like— I mean, if you’d rather sleep in there, you can, of course.”

“What?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy stared back. “What?”

Clarke frowned. “Rather sleep in there compared to what?”

“Oh,” Bellamy stuttered, rucking a hand through his hair. “Instead of with me, I guess. But it’s fine if you don’t want to, obviously, I just— you know, the option—” he looked at Clarke, who was still staring blankly at him and winced, teeth grinding at the nonsense spilling out of his lips. “You know what? Never mind. Sorry.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “You said ‘just this once’.”

“I— What?”

She stared at him hard, expression tight. “Last time, when I slept over. You said it was fine ‘just this once’.”

“Oh,” Bellamy said dumbly. He gave her a sheepish shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, when have I ever meant that? I lied, I guess.”

“So I can sleep in your room tonight?” Clarke asked, and he nodded. “And if this happens again?”

Whenever you want, he thought, Always. He then immediately fought to beat that horny, breathy, bastard part of his mind down with an imaginary chair.

“Yeah, I mean—“ Bellamy shifted uncomfortably, feeling his ears get hot. “Clarke, I’m not going to make you sleep in the common room.”

“Huh,” she said. “Okay. Good to know.”

She followed him back to his room, letting him lead. Remembering the last time, Bellamy made sure to take the side of the bed closest to the wall. As much as he’d enjoyed—loved, obsessed over—having her climb over his body in the morning, it was probably not advisable to have her that close to certain parts of his anatomy, especially when he couldn’t guarantee their reactions.

Clarke turned off the light and slid into bed after him. They lay facing each other, their bodies distantly curled towards one another.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he smiled.

“You must really hate the couches.”

Clarke let out a little huff of a laugh. “I mean yes, I do, but I also really like your bed.”

Bellamy’s heart stuttered, and he longed to reach out and touch her face. “Even when I’m in it?”

“Even then.” Clarke gave him a soft grin that made him melt even further. “Maybe even better then.”

“Well,” Bellamy said, fighting the urge to pull her towards him. “I guess it’s not so bad having you in it either.”

The light in the room was dim, but he could still see her roll her eyes. “Oh, save it,” Clarke said, and snuggled into his pillow. Bellamy watched fondly as she closed her eyes. “We both know you like it.”

And, yeah. He did. He really, really did.

****

It became a somewhat regular thing, the two of the sharing the bed. In the beginning, he was very polite, and stiff; careful not to let any part of his body touch hers.

Bellamy kept waiting, somewhat romantically, for them to wake up entangled in each other, but it never happened. They fell asleep apart, and woke up apart. No touching, just the distant warmth of the other person.

One night though, the AC was on a little too high, and Clarke rolled towards him, tucking her face into his chest. Bellamy’s back stiffened, surprised and unsure.

“I’m freezing,” she huffed, pressing her cold nose to the skin of his chest. It was pretty chilly, he guessed, but she was also wearing very little clothing, just her standard tank top and shorts. Bellamy had at least opted for sweatpants, although he was still shirtless.

His arm came up tentatively to wrap around her. “Is this— is this okay?”

Clarke nodded, burrowing further into him, as though she could absorb all of his heat. Bellamy started as she pressed her icy hands against his stomach.

“Jesus, Princess,” he yelped, jerking back from her. She pressed forward insistently and he let out a huff, wrapping her tighter in his arms. “Warn a guy next time.”

“Wouldn’t be so cold if you didn’t insist on sleeping six feet away from me,” she murmured against his skin, and he felt something in his chest leap.

“And what would you prefer?” Bellamy asked, heart in his throat.

Clarke let out a satisfied sigh, snuggling into him. His hand stroked timidly over her hair. “This is good.”

(God, he was fucked.)

“Huh,” he choked, his fingers grazing the strap of her tank top. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

(Just simply fucked. Ruined. Gonzo.)

He made sure to keep his crotch away from her, at least. No need to go about revealing just how easily his cock responded to her touch. And her smell. And her face. And her body. And her words.

Okay, so just to her in general.

Bellamy had it bad.

****

There was something to be said for sharing a bed, sleeping wrapped up in each other. It was a kind of intimacy Bellamy had never really considered, especially with someone who he was not dating, nor even fucking; but having it was fucking amazing. He loathed the nights when she went back to her room and stayed there.

In fact, he was starting to dread having to wake her up at all. Tonight, Bellamy waited until he was done getting ready for bed, not eager to see her leave.

“Hey, Clarke,” he said, shaking her awake.

She rolled out of bed with a groan and a yawn, stalking towards the door without fully opening her eyes. Bellamy let out a long breath and slid into his warm sheets, waiting.

He gave her a few minutes, not just because he was hoping she’d come back, but because it had been happening pretty often. Maybe every other time she left, she was back in his arms before he had even attempted to start sleeping.

He really didn’t mind. Really.

The feel of her in his arms, the sweet smell of her hair right under his nose, the grumpy noises she made in the morning when her alarm went off too goddamn early for any sane person— yeah, Bellamy didn’t mind.

He turned towards the door as she opened it, slipping into the dark room.

“Again?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke nodded.

“You know,” he said, as she climbed into bed with him. He tried to sound casual, and she looked at him curiously. “You could just stay here next time, if you wanted.”

Clarke’s eyes searched his face and he looked away. “I could?”

“Yeah, I mean—“ Bellamy shrugged, thankful she couldn’t see his blush in the dim light. “It seems silly to wake you up when you end up back here half the time anyways.”

“Hmm,” Clarke said. Bellamy waited, feeling doubt start to creep in, but Clarke just rolled over, pressing her back against his chest. He felt his breath hitch. “Okay, sounds good to me.”

Bellamy smiled, tucking one arm hesitantly around her stomach. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Clarke clasped onto it, pulling the arm tighter across her.

His thumb started to rub slow circles into her skin and he stared at her in the quiet dark of his room, her hair glinting gold in front of him with what little light shone through his blinds from the street. God, she was so fucking beautiful. So—

Clarke whined, twisting in his arms. “Stop thinking so loud, I’m trying to sleep.”

Bellamy let out a low huff of a chuckle and relaxed into the pillows, closing his eyes.

****

If there was any punishment more exquisite than having her close enough to touch but not being able to, it was having her in his arms half the week and still not being able to do anything more.

Bellamy was not one of those guys who believed in the friendzone, or thought that women owed men sex, but holy shit was he in over his head. Blue balls, while not a valid reason to try and get a girl to fuck you, were quickly becoming Bellamy’s constant companion. And he fucking welcomed them; so long as it meant he got to keep sleeping with Clarke in his arms, waking up with her hair in his face and her head on his pillow and his blankets wrapped more around her than around him.

So Bellamy was definitively not allowed to fuck her, and that was fine. He’d never push her, or even ask her, because it would be so fucking inappropriate; but fuck if he didn’t feel like he was getting mixed signals.

One of the signals was that Clarke was literally sleeping in his bed, draped all over him, running her hands over his body, and the other was that Clarke was literally sleeping in his bed, draped all over him, running her hands over his body and had not even tried to kiss him, so clearly she wasn’t interested.

He could live with it, he guessed. He certainly wasn’t going to mess around with anyone else, so it was a moot point. Regardless, he welcomed her into his bed and his arms every time she came, and wouldn’t fucking dream of having it any other way.

Bellamy was no stranger to self-control. He had plenty of it, and he wasn’t going to let his dick fuck this up for him.

In the end though, he probably didn’t need to have spent so much time fretting about it. Turns out the —in hindsight, very obvious-seeming— signals of Clarke literally sleeping in his bed, draped all over him, running her hands over his body; did in fact correlate to her wants and desires.

“You know,” Clarke said one night, as they lay face to face, bodies curled towards each other. “It’s not against the rules for an RA to have sex with someone on their hall. I looked it up a while ago.”

Bellamy’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh?”

“Discouraged, but not banned.” Clarke shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “In case you were wondering.”

In case he was—oh, he’d been wondering alright. Dreaming even. Bellamy hadn’t dared to pull out the handbook and check, in case there was anything explicitly telling him not to let her sleep over, let alone fuck him. So that was a revelation.

A fucking miracle, really. And for Clarke to be the one to have brought it up, that meant—

“Huh,” he said, throat dry. “And were you? Wondering, I mean.”

“I may have been.”

Bellamy swallowed hard. “And now?”

Clarke hummed noncommittally. “Could be.”

“Huh,” he said again, dumbstruck. “Good to know.”

Clarke looked back at him, biting her lip. He tried to formulate a response, but drew a hard blank, all his blood currently occupied with other tasks than making sure his brain could generate a coherent reply.

When nothing came out of his mouth, Clarke groaned, rolling away from him. “Sorry, that was dumb, I should—”

Bellamy grabbed her wrist as she tried to climb out of the bed. “Wait, just— just give me a second, okay?”

Clarke conceded, relaxing into the bed. She waited, watching as Bellamy’s mind struggled to catch up.

“Huh,” he said eventually, and his head jerked in a short nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Clarke asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Okay,” he agreed, and pulled her into his lap.

Clarke moaned as their mouths met in a crushing kiss, and his tongue danced over hers, tracing her bottom lip. They kissed like it was an argument, battling for dominance, hands fisting in each other’s hair, pulling each other close enough to climb into their skin.

“Can’t fucking believe you,” Bellamy groaned, his lips tracing a hot line done the curve of Clarke’s jaw. She gasped as his mouth closed around the hollow of her throat, sucking hard at the soft skin. It would leave a mark, he knew. He wanted it to leave a mark so badly. “So fucking perfect.”

“Shut up,” Clarke breathed, taking his hands and sliding them beneath the fabric of her tank top. Her tiny fucking tank top. Her tiny, white, see-through fucking tank top. “Shut up and touch me.”

Bellamy practically growled, pushing up her tank top (that fucking tank top) and pulling it over her head. He stared at her bare skin in the low light of his room, just as creamy and smooth as he’d imagined, as he’d been imagining since the very first time she’d come to his room.

She helped him slide down her shorts and panties, wriggling eagerly out of them. He wrapped his hands around her waist, eyes darkening as he noticed how much of her skin he could cover, fingers spanning across the breadth of her abdomen.

Clarke wasn’t tiny or delicate or fragile, but she was soft and petite, and fuck if he didn’t get some sick pleasure out of that, out of knowing he could just cover her up with his own body.

Her nails raked down his chest, grazing over his nipples, and his hips jerked under her, thrusting his covered cock up against her center. Clarke moaned, grinding down on him, her pussy soaking through his pants.

Bellamy swore and flipped them, holding himself over her. His head dipped to kiss her mouth hard before trailing down her body, mouthing at the bare skin. She writhed and he caught her hips, holding her down as his tongue slipped down from her navel, across her bare mound.

Clarke keened as his lips closed around her clit. Bellamy release her hips, one hand moving to span over her belly, keeping her pelvis pressed into the mattress. He stroked through her folds with the other, wetting his fingers before pressing them into her hot cunt.

She sighed as he worked her open, stretching her to take his cock. He wanted to fuck her so hard she’d feel it for days, wanted to take her gently and slowly like the precious thing she was, wanted to make her come until she passed out, wanted to stroke her sweetly until she broke with his name on her lips. He wanted everything and anything, so long as it was Clarke.

(Fucked! He was good and truly fucked!)

Bellamy lapped at her clit, fucking her on his fingers until she came with a shudder. He slid up her body, pressing kisses as he went. Her hands tangled in his hair as he came closer, and she pulled his face to hers tasting herself on his lips.

Clarke’s legs wrapped around his hips, and she used them to tugged down his sleep pants. Bellamy laughed into her mouth and pulled back, catching the grin on her face.

“So eager,” he said, and kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way himself. Clarke tried to pull him towards her, but he was resisted, brain holding on to just the slightest sliver of lucid decision making.

“Condom?” Bellamy asked. He had been tested since the last time he’d had sex (approximately a million years ago, although he may not have been remembering correctly), and frankly, he wanted to fuck her raw, but he didn’t know what Clarke’s opinion on that would be.

She bit her lip. “If this—us, having sex—is going to be a thing, and you’ve been tested, then I’m clean and on birth control; but if we’re gonna fuck other people—”

Bellamy pulled back, his lips twisting in a frown. “Are we?”

Her eyes met his, unblinking, assessing his meaning. “I don’t want to.”

“Good,” Bellamy said, giving her a feral grin. His lips found her neck, sucking hard on the column of her throat as she moaned. “I don’t want to either.”

Clarke’s feet hooked around his ass again, pulling him closer, and he let her this time. They both groaned as his cock slipped down the length of her slit. One of her hands slid between them, positioning the head of his cock right at her entrance.

Bellamy looked down at her, a question in his eyes. Clarke nodded.

He thrust himself in to the hilt, stopping only once he’d bottomed out inside her wet cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his lips right against her ear. Her hand tangled in his curls. Bellamy slid out and back in once, testing the angle. “So fucking tight.”

Clarke panted in his ear, eyes clenched tight. “Just fuck me, please.”

He laughed and pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss. “Alright, Princess.”

His cock pounded into her heat, her walls gripping at him deliciously. He knew she’d be fucking perfect, just knew it, and yet somehow this was even better.

Clarke’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, knees hooked up over his hips. She urged him faster deeper, her pelvis tilting to take his cock all the way, meeting his thrusts with her own.

Clarke cried out as Bellamy’s cock hit a certain spot inside her and his hips stuttered, looking down at her in wonder. Purposefully, he drove into her, striking the same place over and over until she was shaking, her pussy fluttering around him.

With a growl, he reached a hand down to rub her clit, thrusting his cock at the same time. He wanted her to come again, needed her to. Bellamy was close, feeling the beginnings of his orgasm start to pull at him, and he worked her faster until she broke around him.

Feeling her cunt spasm, clenching around his cock, he groaned. His hips stuttered out a broken rhythm as her orgasm pulled him over, and he slammed into the hilt one last time as he came, spilling deep inside her her with a groan.

He lay heavy on top of her, nearly boneless for a long moment until she poked him in the side.

“Fuck,” Bellamy breathed, and rolled off her, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Sorry.”

Clarke turned to face him, head propped up on one hand, leaning on her elbow. She grinned, watching as he panted.

“Good?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bellamy let out a huff of a laugh, peeking out at her from below his arm. A smile teased as the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

She breathed a satisfied sigh as his arm reached out, pulling her against him. “God, you’re sweaty.”

He smiled, wiping a thumb over her own sticky brow. “Pot calling the kettle black, Princess.”

Clarke pressed her lips against his skin fondly. “I will compromise and say we're both sweaty.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Compromise accepted.”

They lay there, wrapped up in each other, letting their heartbeats slow back to normal. Bellamy’s sweat damp skin started to cool, and he dragged the sheets up over them.

“So,” Clarke said, her voice muffled against his chest. “To clarify, that wasn’t another ‘just this once’ thing, right?”

His arm tighten around her waist, mouth pressing a kiss into her gold curls. “Definitely not.”

****

Her visits became more frequent, from three times a week, to four, to six, to every night. Bellamy didn’t mind, obviously. He wouldn’t have minded even if they weren’t fucking, which they were.

Only fucking, that is.

Yeah, she still slept over, and yeah, he still got to stare at her longingly in the mornings, but something about the lack of romance was starting to get to him, to bother him for some reason.

Probably because he was in love with her. (Or, you know, fucked.)

He was terrified that it would stop, even with the increasing frequency; that one day she’d find someone to actually date, and not just her RA whose room she spent every night in because her roommate was apparently a sexual maniac, which was not something he wanted to be thinking about at all.

But it seemed like she liked him, it really did. Obviously she liked him enough to fuck him—and only him, thank god for small mercies—at least, and with astounding regularity. That might be enough.

Or not, but he was going to keep lying to himself anyways.

He woke up one Sunday with her in his arms, her ass pressed back against a rapidly growing erection. He bit back a low groan as she shifted, trying not to wake her, but realized soon that the shifting was more of an active grind.

One eye popped open. “Clarke?”

She grinned, pushing back more insistently. His hand came down hard on her hip and he didn’t hold back the sound this time.

Bellamy’s lips found her neck, sucking and nipping at the soft skin there as her hands reached back to tangle in his hair.

“God, you’re a fucking menace,” Bellamy breathed, as he slotted his cock between her legs. Clarke parted them to allow him easier access.

“You like it,” she responded, and gasped as he answered her with a slow thrust. Bellamy let out a low chuckle, brushing her hair back from her face.

His teeth nibbled at the skin where her shoulder met her neck as he fucked her lazily. He brought one hand around her front to play with her clit, circling with varying pressure until she was jerking and shuddering against him.

Bellamy fucked her through her orgasm, pounding into her from behind, their bodies spooned together, skin sticking to each other with sweat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, as his hips began to lose their rhythm. His hand wrapped around her stomach, dragging her closer to him. “Could do this every fucking morning; you’re so good.”

Clarke let out a low moan and it sent him over, thrusting his cock into her hard as he came. Bellamy lay there for a moment, pressed up against her back, catching his breath, before rolling back. Clarke turned in his arms, landing with her head on his chest.

She tilted her chin to face him, watching with a smile as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Every morning, huh? We might be able to arrange that.”

Bellamy lay back on the pillows, one hand tucked behind his head. The fingers of his other hand toyed with a curl around Clarke’s face.

He considered their arrangement, and the frequency with which she ended up in his arms, and on his cock. It was probably too much for him to be able to keep dismissing it as convenience, and frankly, he didn’t want to.

Bellamy wanted Clarke to want to be there, to want to be with him, just like he wanted to be with her.

“Is my sister really sexiling you every night?”

Clarke blushed, and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I stopped checking a while ago.”

He’d never heard such a beautiful admission. Bellamy let out a low chuckle. “You fiend. And I just walked right into your trap. Your poor, trusting RA, just trying to help his students.”

She gave him an innocent look, batting her eyelashes. “Who said it was a trap?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, not believing her for an instant. She winked playfully, and settled her head back against his chest.

“Okay, so maybe it was a little bit of a trap,” Clarke admitted, tracing her fingers across her bare chest, “But I told you, it’s not technically against the rules.”

Bellamy smiled and kept stroking his hands through her hair, wrapping a small gold curl around his fingers.

“So,” he asked conversationally, tugging on the lock of hair. His stomach swooped in anticipation, nervous to take the leap he so deeply wanted. Clarke looked up at him, amused. “Did those rules say anything about an RA dating someone on their hall?”

Clarke’s mouth fell open and she blinked rapidly. “Definitely allowed. Actually, strongly encouraged.”

“Interesting.” Bellamy smiled at her, his heart booming joyously in his ears. “And when did you look all this up?”

“Hmmm.” Clarke bit her lip shyly, looking up in thought as she considered the question. “Maybe four days into the school year?”

That was— fuck. All this goddamn time he’d wasted.

Bellamy groaned, pulling her over his hips so she straddled him. Clarke laughed, resting her palms against the skin of his chest. His fingers traced a pattern over her hipbone. “Took you four whole days, huh?”

Clarke shrugged, a grin pulling at her cheeks. “You were kind of a jerk during move-in. I didn’t like you at first.”

Bellamy smirked, bucking his hips so his cock slid through her folds, still slick and warm from their previous activities. Clarke moaned, throwing her head back and grinding down against him. “And now?”

Clarke’s mouth twisted playfully, lips pursed. “Not sure,” she said, and looked down at him, a glint in her eyes. “Maybe you should remind me.”

Bellamy let out an exaggerated sigh.

“If I must,” he huffed, and flipped her. Clarke squealed as her ass bounced against the bed. Bellamy leaned over her, caging her in with his arms. “You’re very needy, you know.”

“You like it,” Clarke insisted. She trailed her fingers over his abs, smirking as he shuddered.

Bellamy leaned down and dropped a light kiss onto her lips. “I do,” he admitted. “I really do.”

She twisted her hands in his hair, pulling him down for another searing kiss. “Good, we’re in agreement then.”

Bellamy shook his head fondly, grinning. “So,” he asked, looking down at her. Their eyes met, blue on brown, and he felt something wonderful bloom warm and soft in his chest. “A date?”

Clarke smiled, hooking her feet around his ass and pulling him closer, so his cock nestled against her heat.

“Next time?” she suggested lightly.

Bellamy groaned, and nodded. “Next time.”

(Oh, yeah. He was fucked.)

“Seriously though— four days?”

“…Maybe three.”

(But then again, maybe she was, too.)

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fanfic #bellamy blake #bellarke #clarke griffin #The 100 #smut #fluff