◇ based off unforgettable by french montana even tho he’s trash just because i could lol
◇ ahsjksks I’m not dead my dudes don’t worry im just studying which is the same thing but!!! Anyway i made this because of procrastination so don’t expect another one right away lol ❤️❤️❤️💟💖💖
You were proud to say that college wasn’t kicking your ass as much as it probably could. You finished three of your four essays due, completed a project that was 35% of your final grade, and managed to study for at least 10 minutes in the passed week.
And now, here you lay, your laptop perched on the bed in front of you with Netflix pulled up in the screen and a large bag of Doritos beside you. Your well-earned reward — and you’re enjoying it, too. Well, until—
“Hey!” The bubbly brunette you fondly called your roommate plummets onto your bed before you register her presence, and the presence of her red headed girlfriend who trails in after. “Guess what?”
“You and Rose decided to take a spontaneous trip to Hawaii and leave me to watch Luke Cage?” You try with a wishful smile, knowing damn well what she was about to propose as soon as she pulled up her Twitter. “A party? Really?”
“Yes!” Jennie grins brightly, shoving the screen in your face. A tweet from the man himself, Jackson Wang, is on the screen, and you barely catch the words party and insane before she yanks it back. “Jackson is throwing another party this Friday and since there’s nothing too important coming up, I demand that you attend—”
“I don’t think so,” you laugh in disbelief, turning back to your relaxing setup. “No more parties for me—”
“Oh, come on,” Jennie’s face drops as she groans, slumping her body over your back dramatically — it was times like this that her fine arts major really came out. “The last party you went to was weeks ago! The last guy that you slept with was ages ago and it was terrible and it’s making you cranky—”
“I am not cranky!” You interrupt in indignation, eyes wide. At the pointed look that’s shot at you from both girls, you deflate. “That guy wasn’t that bad. What’s your point?”
“Our point,” Rose speaks with a furrow of her eyebrows, “is that since you slept with You-Know-Who—” Her eyes narrow warningly when your mouth opens to make a Voldemort joke— “You’ve been in a slump. And it’s making you angry at everything.”
“So you think I should go to a party to get wasted and fuck someone?” You retort, rolling your eyes, “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t have to get wasted,” Jennie whines, tugging at your arm. “Look, me and Rose are going too. We’ll stay with you until you get some nice piece of meat to play with—”
“And then you can be happy and we’ll be happy because you’re happy!” She concludes with a cheeky grin.
You ponder her offer, swimming between whether or not you should listen to your ultracrepidarian best friend. Your hesitance shows obviously on your face, and Jennie pouts. “Please? I haven’t been to a party with my best friend in weeks—”
You sigh, pulling your arms from your grip and wriggling your body to roll Jennie off of your back. “Whatever, whatever. Can I watch this in peace now?”
Squeals and whatnot ensue, but you can only roll your eyes and push your earphones in further, grabbing another handful of Doritos.
Nothing had ever irritated Jeon Jungkook as much as this particular thing was.
100 things the Lodgers are no longer allowed to do
‘For the good of science!’ is not an appropriate
response to ‘Why is everything on fire?’
Unrelated to the above, Mr Sinnett and Mr
Luckett are not allowed to combine their work in any way without written
permission from Dr Jekyll.
Related to the above two, Mr Luckett is not
allowed in the Chemistry Lab. Ever.
Mr Hyde is no longer allowed to make comment on or
imply anything about any of the Lodgers’ sex lives.
Including his own.
Especially his own.
Do not taunt the repair kraken, we don’t want
Do not make comment on any Lodgers’ height.
Especially the blonde ones. We aren’t pointing fingers. Honest.
On that note; don’t make comment on any lodgers’
weight, social background, ethnicity, gender or weight. They are passionate,
slightly mad and have easy access to dangerous lab equipment. You have been
Do not mess with Dr Jekyll’s morning cup of tea.
Dr Griffin is not allowed to turn any more mice,
rats or similar rodents invisible.
Nor is he allowed to breed the already invisible
mice, rats or similar rodents to create more. Seriously we have enough problems
with them as is.
Progress Reports SHOULD NOT NEED to start with ‘I
Dr Jekyll is to stop leaving his coat, hat and
other clothing garments littered all over the society. Or said items will be
sold for the good of the society!
If it makes Mr Hyde giggle for longer than 15 seconds,
it’s not allowed.
Rachel is not to wander around the society
covered in blood, wielding a kitchen knife and/or making ominous sounds when
guests are present.
Nobody is to do the above, on that note.
Alcohol is not to be consumed in any of the labs
or whilst working. Drunk science may seem fun but it is a bad idea!
I don’t care if Mr Hyde said it was allowed, it
Lodgers are not allowed to have a contest to see
who can make the biggest “boom”.
Because Mr Luckett will win and the repairs will
come out of your monthly research grant.
The Secret Rogue Scientist Fight Club is hereby
disbanded and banned.
Mr Doodles’ confectionaries are not to be taken
without his permission. Ever. Please, you’ll make him cry!
Please do not laugh manically around members of
the public or the police.
Please do not mention potentially illegal
activities around members of the public or the police.
Nobody is to suggest, imply or outright state
anything pertaining to Scotland being less than great within ear shot of Mr
Hyde and Dr Jekyll.
Lodgers are reminded not to fall asleep in the
middle of conducting experiments.
Wine is not a substitute for breakfast.
Nor is tequila, vodka, whiskey or anything other
than actual breakfast.
The following words and
phrases are never to be uttered within the same topic of conversation in any
combination: “Necrophilia,” “I hate everyone on this society
and I wish they’d die,” “Dr Maijabi’s mystic powers,” “Experimental lubricant,”
“airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow,” “the many uses of cheese,” “it’ll be
fine so long as we don’t tell them,” and any mentions of Mr Mosley being part
Adding more ingredients does not always fix the
Tea parties on Dr Maijabi’s floating furniture
are banned until further notice.
Please respect that no one in the society shares
the same sleeping pattern and keep the noise down at all times.
That means you, Edward.
Unless Rachel has given you permission, the Lodgers
are not allowed to cook their own meals. We don’t need another exploded oven,
Do not make potions in the kitchen. You have
Do not use Mr Sinnett’s pyrotechnics to cook.
Not even if it’s to make s’mores, we still haven’t
cleaned up the mess from last time!
I don’t care what your excuse is, nobody is to
steal or ‘borrow’ anyone else’s equipment or experiments without their owner’s permission.
“Hyde made me do it” is not a valid
excuse for anything, especially when he didn’t.
Likewise, lying that ‘Mr Hyde did it’ when
questioned by Dr Jekyll will not end well for you. He will somehow know that
you are lying and Mr Hyde won’t be happy when he finds out.
If Dr Jekyll asks to see you, please don’t start
the conversation with ‘You can’t prove anything!’
‘It wasn’t me!’ is not a valid alternative to
Nor is ‘I’ll clean it up! I promise!’
Please avoid intentionally or unintentionally
scaring Dr Lanyon. Please, he’s fragile and easily startled.
Dr Jekyll is not to be provoked when he’s doing
All the many betting pools found in the society
are unofficial. Enter them at your own risk.
This should go without saying but please do not
lick any of the lab equipment.
Dr Griffin is banned from the kitchen following
an incident where a large portion of food was turned invisible.
Please do not repeat the above for pranking
Should anyone or anything claim to be from the
future, avoid it at all costs and quickly inform Dr Jekyll. He can take it from
Glitter is banned within the society. End of
No, neither Dr Jekyll nor Mr Hyde are in
violation of the above. They just seem to sparkle naturally. We don’t know how
Do not insult Dr Jekyll. He may not react, or
more worryingly start agreeing with you, but the rest of Lodgers will find out
and will not be happy.
Do not dance on the furniture.
Yes, Hyde does it but he’s screwing the boss.
Do not mention Hyde possibly screwing the boss.
Do not refer to Dr Jekyll as ‘the boss’.
Please remove the above three statements
immediately! – Dr Jekyll
It is impossible to keep anything a secret for
more than a week in the society. You have been warned.
Gossip in the Society travels at a rate that is
just slightly slower than the speed of sound. Again, you have been warned.
If you don’t know what it is or what it does, DO
NOT touch it!
If it’s leaking fluid and it shouldn’t, either
fix it or back away slowly and hope it doesn’t explode.
Zosi did not eat anyone’s lab equipment, monthly
reports or left sock. Stop blaming it on them!
Do not attempt to pick Mr Bird’s plants to make
flower crowns. Half of them are poisonous, the other half will eat you.
Do not take Bryson’s hot air balloon on a joy
Likewise with Dr Helsby’s Bathyscaph.
Do not steal Dr Jekyll’s sparkly carriage for
the same purpose either.
Also do not steal Mr Mosley’s Hollow Earth
Submarine. That man owns a drill and will use it on you.
Please do not mess about with Mr Doodle’s candyfloss
machine. Flooding the upstairs with candyfloss might seem fun at the time but
it’s a pain to clean up. And it took us three hours to get Mr Hyde down off the
ceiling last time.
Clothing must be worn at all time in communal areas
of the society. Invisible clothing does not count.
Dr Griffin is not allowed to flip any more table
unless all the work on them is his own and he pays for the table if he breaks
Dr Jekyll is not to be referred as anyone’s ‘mother’.
The Lodgers must not present any of ‘the wonders
of science’ to children without a RESPONSIBLE adult’s oversight.
Mr Hyde does not count as a responsible adult.
Nor do most of the lodgers either on that note.
Don’t ask why Mr Hyde is sometimes seen wearing
Dr Jekyll’s clothes.
versa. It just happens.
Dr Griffin is not to go to West Sussex ever.
Especially the area near the village of Iping and the town of Bramblehurst.
The lodgers are to note that ‘It is better to
beg forgiveness than ask permission’ no longer applies to them. Dr Jekyll is
more than willing to give permission, but do get permission first!
Please do not release the repair kraken on the streets.
The general public and the Police do not appreciate its presence there.
Any bake sales hosted within the society grounds
are to give at least two thirds of the profits to the society funds.
No lodger is to take the laws of physics as a
personal insult to their work.
Nor are they to take the laws of reality as a
personal insult either.
No unnecessary science in the lobby!
If you see one of Miss. Flower’s butterflies,
carefully catch it and return it to her as soon as possible.
DO NOT EAT IT!!
Do not eat any of the science!
Expect Mr Doodle’s, with his permission. As mentioned
No fire flies near the chemistry labs please.
No, Mr Penniebrygg is not building an automaton
army. Or at least he shouldn’t be!
No lodger is to go within twenty feet of Mr
Tweedy or his equipment when he is working. If you ignore this and are
electrocuted, it’s your own damn fault.
Do not send threatening or angry letters to the
Theatre across the road.
If you must, do not sign them with your’s or the
Making ‘time of the month’ jokes around the
female Lodgers or Mr Kaylock is not appropriate.
Do not try to feed Mr Kaylock dog biscuits.
Do not try to feed Mr Hyde cat food!
Do not feed the leviathan. We still aren’t sure
what it is or if it eats or what it eats. So please don’t.
Midnight dance parties are banned unless Mr Hyde
is invited. All chaos cause by said midnight dance parties must be cleaned up
by the morning.
Do not let any member of the public see this
A Nessian Greek Mythology based fic and a darker twist to this ship. There will be this Aeonian series (Nessian) and an Antiscians series (Elorcan).
“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?”
“Poor Nesta,” Ianthe chided. “No longer a virgin.”
Nesta’s fingers wrapped around her fork, tightly gripping the cold metal.
“No God would want a deflowered woman,” the blond crooned. “Especially one who thinks she does know her place.”
The brown-haired woman stabbed at a piece of salad, and shoved it into her mouth. Chewing slowly on the hard leaves, she quelled the chaotic waves surging within her. She refused to give into her anger—to allow Tomas to have the last hold on her.
“You always talked about not wanting a God.” The other female smiled, sharp as a blade. “I guess Tomas Mandray really did you a favor.”
That was the last straw for Nesta. Yes, no God would want to claim a non-virgin—which was perfectly fine with her, especially after all Feyre had been accounted for, still missing to this day—but for Ianthe to dare—have the audacity to—rub assault in her face, even from the dark times of three years ago—
The eldest Archeron sister twirled the fork in her fingers, staring hard at the dried, yellow leaves and mottled, squished fruit in front of her. It was against the law to attack a priestess, but an even greater sin to murder the village’s Head Priestess.
But no one said anything against accidents.
With a flick of her wrist, Nesta sent the fork flying out her hands and at Ianthe’s right eye.
A perfect execution. A warning that a line had been crossed. A sign that they would never see eye to eye—that Nesta’s gaze would never waver, unblinking, and unflinching.
A loud gasp escaped from Nesta’s mouth, and she lunged forward, knocking Ianthe to the floor. The High Priestess’s shrill pierced the air, and Nesta moved quickly, digging the edge of the fork deeper, twisting the metal. Even through the metal, she could feel the edges grinding against the root, white and pink liquid swirling.
“I’m so sorry!” Nesta cried, slipping on a mask of horror, climbing over the other female. “I can’t pull it out.” Her hair fell across her face, a shadowed curtain—and she allowed Ianthe to see the dark smile cutting across hers face, sharper and deeper than any mortal blade.
For three years, the darkness’ isolation had cultivated into something icier and harsher—a ghost of a phantom whirling within her. She’d shown Ianthe just a pinch.
As the High Priestess shrieked, bodyguards stormed into the diner, clad in plates of metal, faces shadowed by a thick, black masks. Nesta allowed the memories of three years ago to consume her, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Loosening her grip on the fork, she curled into herself, rocking on her heels.
The nearest guard grabbed her elbows and set her roughly onto her feet.
“What the hell happened?” he gruffly ordered, shaking her shoulders.
Ianthe let out a hiss, but Nesta’s contempt was a gaping abyss full of raw will.
The eldest Archeron sister harshly rubbed away stray tears seeping down her cheeks, and forced down the sick smile threatening to erupt across her face. “The High Priestess came out of nowhere—” Nesta hiccuped “—my reflexes spun out of control—”
When the guard reached out for her, Nesta collapsed onto her knees, and laid her palms against the Priestess’s heart. “Forgive me,” she loudly cried. “I meant no malice.”
She leaned in closer to Ianthe’s face, as if she were to kiss her cheeks, the fallen woman sobbing and shuddering. Nesta brushed a finger against the golden-haired woman’s forehead as an almost tender caress, and wrapped her hand around the emblem pinned to Ianthe’s robes. Pressing her lips against the High Priestess’ ear, Nesta whispered, “Now you can see darkness.”
Ianthe kicked upwards. Nesta rolled off of the blue-robed woman.
Ianthe’s trembling fingers grasped the hilt of the fork. Nesta twisted her fingers into her pocket, and hunched her shoulders, the image of a thoroughly fearful woman.
Ianthe’s throat elicited squeaks of gagging and gurgling noises, but her right eye pinned on Nesta’s form. Her mouth pinched, then hissed out, “Put her in an empty cell!”
The guard trapped Nesta’s wrists, tugging her away from the High Priestess. Two more went at her sides, caging her in. Little did they know cornering a wildcat, bred from the savageness only the true seers of society saw, would end in detrimental dysfunction.
Nesta schooled her features into a blank, empty face, struggling within the solid grip. She spared a glance towards the blue-robed woman. “The only cells missing are those in your eye.”
Stepping over the boots and knocking herself forward as she were tripping, Nesta twisted herself out of the guard’s grasp, using the falling momentum to bring him down on his back.
Plates of metal lumbered towards her, and Nesta tore out the the diner, blocking the sounds of Ianthe’s feeble cries of my eye, my eye, my eye over and over again.
Fixing her sleeve, a darker and sharper smile shot over Nesta’s face.
She didn’t even have to pay for that shit excuse of a meal.
Nesta stole through the night and into the forest. Here, the darkness draped over her already black-clad frame. She knew this path at the back of her mind, weaving through thick tree trunks and sailing over high-branched roots. Slowly, the heavy clanging sounds of armor receded from her ears, but Nesta picked up her pace.
This was the seventh village Elain and Nesta had taken refuge in—ever since Feyre had been taken three years ago and Tomas had yanked her into a barn, both Archeron sisters turned into wanderers, fleeing with the wind. Trust was reduced to bread crumbs, and even they could barely afford for the tiniest slice.
What God had taken Feyre—Nesta had no idea, but had her suspicions. It had been any other morning, Nesta serving buttermilk pancakes while Elain had went up to fetch Feyre from the drawing room. Rather than seeing their middle sister painting with her hair twisted up into a messy bun, the stench of alcohol and grapes had permeated the room.
Elain had screamed. Nesta came up running with a knife in her hand.
Feyre’s hunting clothes had been strewn all over the floor, a purplish-green scrap of fabric littering across a canvas. It was as if the their middle sister had given them a warning and a signal that she’d been claimed—by a God.
Nesta knew the rules. When Gods claimed humans, they dressed them in their ornamental colors and symbols. Yet green and purple were common colors, even found among the varying masses of minor Gods.
It was then Nesta banished all hope of desiring to be claimed by a God. She’d once dreamed, among the others, to be one with another force, to see through another set of eyes, and to ascend the mortal limits.
She’d once set apples and pears along the mantle of Athena, the one God she’d revered the most. Three years ago, she’d pray to the God of Wisdom, asking for guidance. Now all she did was pray to the minor Gods of vengeance and fear, demanding divine retribution for those who had wronged her—because it hadn’t just been her who’d been afflicted and twisted.
Nesta had watched Elain spiral into the coldness as well. The youngest Archeron no longer made honeyed offerings to Demeter, the goddess of the Earth. She instead grew darker roses and pricked her fingers as if lines of blood served as her penance.
It was as if the darkness of the demons had descended upon the Archeron sisters.
No happiness, no protection, no understanding.
A branch snagged the sleeve of her arm, and Nesta hissed. Despite this village’s soldiers pursuing her and having to move to another village, she felt oddly safe and warm, a blanket of false security.
Perhaps it was because she’d stolen the golden emblem from the High Priestess, the coin tucked securely under her sleeve. The price would last them another to journey to another village.
The moon casted swirls of strange colors of white against the darkness and the green of the forest. She slowed to a walk, taking in her surroundings. The branches reached low, stroking hunched, estranged shadows that curved and murmured unspoken cacophonies the human ear tuned out. Nesta slowly angled her body and slid through a cluster of vines.
The myths had become reality a long time ago, the Gods deciding to end their supposed boredom in waiting. The beginnings of their reappearance into society was often bloody, jealously in both claiming humans rampant and in being desired to be claimed.
Their father had worshiped Hermes, the messenger God, and named the Archeron fortune in his name. Nesta had considered it justice when a business company across the sea had sunk their father’s ship, and had stolen every commodity on board.
Their father had never returned the sail back, a merchant following the God of Thieves, saw the end, robbed of life and fortune.
The obsession with the Gods had seen the decline in family values, many children left alone or pitted against each other. Their father had been no exception, travelling to Athens, Greece, in hope of appeasing the Gods.
Death had been his answer.
While Nesta believed it to be foolish to devote a lifetime in praying for Gods, the higher beings indeed chose humans. Those taken under their wing received immortality. It could be eons before Feyre would be brought back to them willingly and unwillingly, and there was a high chance Nesta and Elain would be six feet under in a coffin or reduced to ashes by that time.
It had taken Feyre’s kidnapping for Nesta to realize that being trapped in a powerful body with no regard for lesser creatures and their emotions and past was something she did not want.
So she stopped praying and stopped her offerings.
Elain had followed suit.
Both sisters had been shunned from the original village in consequence.
Now that Nesta harmed Ianthe, it looked like they’d have to move again. Whisperings of rumors and fault had followed the Archeron sisters as they traveled, and it never seemed the words would never cease.
Yet solace stirred within her, and Nesta scowled at the feeling akin to comfort’s cost crawling within her.
Elain would be beyond worried by now. Nesta knocked away the thin branches and ducked under a canopy of large ivies she knew would reveal a large clearing only a couple of meters away from their temporary home. Soon, she’d be running in the veil of the night, holding Elain’s thin hands again.
Her head rammed into steely hardness.
She rubbed her nose and slowly backed up.
Seething, Nesta untucked a dagger hidden under her sleeve, and pushed the wall forward with her other hand.
It didn’t move.
Squinting through the darkness, Nesta realized that streaks of dark, dried red pooled down silver plates, sheer power exuding from the figure.
The amount of blood could only mean a dead man.
But if a soldier was here, then the chances of Elain’s safety was very low. She had to get out of here, quickly and quietly.
Cursing under her breath, she turned around back under the canopy, but a gloved hand with a huge, red jewel pulsating at the center lashed out and captured her wrist.
It was a solid grasp, almost crushing her bones.
This was not the ordinary soldier’s strength. And it was a very much alive man.
She dropped the dagger into her other hand and sliced it vertically towards the hand.
Her blade merely bounced off, falling to the ground.
With a yank, the hand jerked her back against a chest of steel and coldness. Yet Nesta felt warmth pour over every vein and crevice in her body.
The male towered over her, dark, hazel eyes cramming into her own soul, sheer strength emanating from him, broad shoulders with muscles roping around an enormous form.
A purebred, dangerous warrior.
Those piercing orbs raked over her, starting from the bottoms of her torn boots to over her clothes and under the slope of her breasts, up to her collarbone and into her own stormy eyes. Black boots, black pants, black sleeves—and if he looked close enough, he’d see a black painted heart.
A brow flicked up. “Whose funeral?”
Nesta shuddered at the low, husky voice that shot down her spine. She refused to be weak again—the last time she was in a male’s embrace three years ago. She would not be fooled again.
“Get off me,” she hissed instead, and squirmed fruitlessly in his grasp.
His dark inked hair and ruggedly shaven face rang a bell, but Nesta didn’t care, not when Elain had been alone far too alone. The predatory glint in the male’s face heightened memories of three years ago, but her body remained strangely calm and soothed.
“That’s no way to treat a God.”
Nesta realized the blood seeping from the armor was not from the male’s, but a head hanging from the canopy above, a thin river of red raining down.
Nesta arched her own brow. “I’d suggest planning his funeral soon.” She could see the outlines of the dead body strung along vines and branches, gutted and torn apart.
The male shrugged. “If you want to plan a murdering liar’s funeral, then be my guest.” The arm around her waist hitched up to rub circles across her back, almost daring her to string the body back to pieces.
Nesta didn’t find the action disturbing, but rather reassuring. Perhaps he was a minor god in infatuation or magic along those lines. The gaze no longer seemed of predatory possessiveness, but of amused affection.
A dangerous smile appeared on those rough-hewn features, as those seemingly pulsing eyes studied her. “I like women who can handle blood.”
“I like men who can respect boundaries.” Nesta damned her cover and swore if he didn’t let her go, she’d scream—even if it meant drawing the village’s soldiers here.
The male seemed to read her thoughts. “You think humans are match for a God?”
Nesta didn’t reply, and cursed her own traitorous body sinking into the comfort and warmth the male seemed to offer.
He leaned in closer, a hand stroking her hair. “A match for the God of War?”
Nesta’s eyes widened. “You lie.”
“Now why would I lie, sweetheart?” The God leaned down and brushed his mouth against her ear. “Especially to one I want to claim?”
Another last straw for Nesta. She lashed out, but the God easily cupped her knee cap with one hand—just hovering over the V of his hips—and the other hand flattening a palm against her back.
“A cheap shot.” A grin.
Nesta went up on her toes, her hands cupping the God’s cheek. His skin was warm and sent delicious trills down her. The God leaned down as well, his eyes darkening, a low growl erupting from his throat, hands folding around her waist. Just before his lips closed on hers, Nesta’s knee collided with her aim.
It was a pity his armor covered his torso, but the God still doubled over in pain, a foul curse leaving his mouth.
Nesta didn’t wait before she sprinted around the clearing and to the house where Elain was waiting. Running past the locked front door, she hurdled over a bush into the back.
Slipping through the window and into their shared room, Nesta grabbed her bag, stuffing the nearest clothes into the brown material.
A frail figure rose from the tiny bed, and Elain rubbed her eyes. “Nesta?” she whispered, a sigh of relief escaping her chapped lips.
“Pack,” Nesta ordered. “We’ve got to move again.”
Elain immediately hauled herself out of the bed, rapidly opening all the tiny cupboards and sweeping the contents into bags. “What was it this time?”
“Ianthe, soldiers, and a God.” Nesta folded all the blankets and stuffed the pillows.
“The High Priestess?” Elain said, heading to the bathroom. When she emerged, all the toiletries had been zipped into bags and stuffed into a larger sack. “What God?”
A God of War.
One that made her feel alive instead of merely existing.
Instead, Nesta said, “Just a minor one.” She beckoned Elain to head to the kitchen so pack their last rations, the cold air seeping into their skin. She gave the guards about another hour before they found their refuge.
Locking the window shut, Nesta froze when Elain’s scream shattered the air. Bolting into the next room, she snarled when she saw Elain shivering and staring in shock at a large figure radiating the familiar sense of power—seating himself in the ragged and torn chair as if it were a throne fit for a king.
But that was what he was compared to them.
“Just a minor God?” the God tsked his tongue, staring at Nesta—as if Elain were invisible and as if he could consume Nesta right there and then.
“Get out of my house,” she seethed, and nudged Elain away.
Elain levelled Nesta with a clipped stare. “Really, Nesta? The God of War? Ares?”
The name sent shivers down her spine. It made the situation too real, too risky. By no means was this some minor God, as Elain had realized, trembling.
She supposed it was the small mercies—the God allowing Elain to bolt away—that mattered.
An eyebrow cocked towards her. “It’s won’t be your house much longer will it, Nesta?” When she didn’t answer—her veins on fire—he pushed further. “Guards are searching for you and closing in.”
“What do you want?”
The God rose from the chair, the darkness wavering around him. The red jewels on top of each of his gloves exuded another type of power. A set of dimples winked down on her and those deep, brown eyes stared unfathomably at her. “I want to claim you.”
Nesta swallowed. This was her last defense, her last barrier to remain free: “I’m not a virgin.”
With swiftness beyond reason, the God moved so he was in front of her. He studied her eyes and the pulse along her throat—the fury and the rage in her own eyes and the quicker, beating pulse in memory of three years ago. Seconds passed before his eyes narrowed, and he gutted out, “Who?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You resist my claim, and the guards will be here sooner than you think.”
Nesta shivered. “Then you’re just as bad as him.”
The male who had taken her away three years ago.
The God of War looked down at her, and gently reached out a hand, traced with scars and bruises. When she didn’t bat it away, his knuckles slowly caressed her cheek. “I can help you, sweetheart.”
She’d wasted enough time. “Help is just another word for control.”
“Who hurt you,” the God snarled, the red stones flaring. Lethal dark oozed from them.
A crash sounded from the other side, and Elain meekly peeked up from under the countertop. “I packed all the kitchenware.”
The God of War didn’t spare a glance in the other direction, determinedly staring into her soul—seeing the darkness. “I can help you and your sister. You’ll be safe. You won’t have to run again.”
“At what cost?”
He leaned down so that his forehead touched hers. Warmth shot through her at the contact, and in that moment, she felt safer than she’d even been in his life.
“I claim you,” he murmured, voice dark and dangerous, deep and deadly. “As mine.”
“And if I refuse?”
A glimmer of amusement in those hazel eyes. “I hear cells in this village are quite cold.”
“Threatening a mortal?”
“What can I say, sweetheart?” A cocky, dark grin, honed from insanity and lunacy in the battlefield. “All’s fair in love and war.”
✽ summary: latte art was your specialty. with your steady hands and being in core arts, you couldn’t help to send a tiny message over to the guy you liked with it. your eyes widened as you heard these words over the counter, “so, who drew a heart in my latte?”
Summary:You’re at Kcon standing a few rows back from the stage enjoying the show. You were most excited for BTS, but Monsta X had stolen your attention too. Especially the blonde muscular one. But the one you were really here for was Kim Namjoon, Rap Monster, God of Destruction and you were gonna let him destroy you if given the chance.
Word Count: 2000+
Tags: SMUT! Nothing else to be said, SMUTTY SMUT SMUT!!!
Today was the day, KCON LA! You’d been waiting and saving for a year, and had picked your outfit out 6 weeks prior. Black pleather skater skirt, black camisole and white crop top hoodie, knee high socks and red Converse. Simple, comfortable and nymphette sexy. And luckily you got there early enough to get a good spot in front of the stage.
As you stood there singing and dancing along you were getting more and more excited. With every group that finished you were that much closer to seeing BTS. Monsta X was up, you’d seen there videos and heard their songs, but you never got into them. But they were HOT! No denying that, you were definitely reconsidering your choice of not stanning them. Especially the muscular Blonde one, the others were cute but he was sexy, and collared. Too bad, if he was a dominant you wouldn’t waste a second pouncing.
THE CORRIDOR TO THE DOOR OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES
I found this old oneshot…I don’t know why I haven’t posted it on Tumblr before…this is my third try to post it correctly. The Tumblr App sucks rn! So, sorry I am so short on words. I wrote this fic last summer. I hope you enjoy the shameless bellarke smut that is coming for you xD You can also find it on ao3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/7938799)
THE CORRIDOR TO THE DOOR OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES
“We are truly sorry for the trouble Miss Griffin.”
The stewardess apologized for the third time within two minutes. Bellamy was counting. He didn’t look up from his book when the voice of the so called Miss Griffin complained.
“One hour late and then this. I can’t believe it. This is the worst airline I’ve ever flew with!”
“There must have been a technical problem Miss. We are so, so sorry. Please, you can sit first class and you don’t have to pay for anything during the flight.”
“As if I would,” retorted the annoyed woman and Bellamy heard how she slumped into the seat right in front of him. The flight attendant put the luggage into the overhead and apologized for the fifth time, getting a huff as a response before she walked away. Bellamy looked after her, watching her disappear behind the curtain between first class and business. When his eyes flew back onto his book he stopped at the woman in front of him, who was – to be quite honest – really pretty. Even with her exhausted and annoyed facial expression. He watched her closely, recognizing the small birthmark above her lip and slightly sweating skin because it had been almost 97 °F today and it was still humid. Just when his eyes were about to go further down he caught himself and put them back onto his book – Pericles of Athens and the birth of Democracy by Donald Kagan.
Yeah, he still was the history nerd he had been with eighteen!
Bellamy still kept reading, when the stewardess gave the security information a few moments later. He had seen them dozens of times before and was pretty sure how to behave in any case of trouble. The mysterious blonde instead hung on the flight attendant’s lips, when he looked up, which made him guess that this was her first flight or she hadn’t been on many planes before. An amused smile spread over his lips before going back to reading. It didn’t take him long to look up again. The plane was about to start when there was a loud rustle in front of him. The blonde shifted around in her seat, her feet fidgeted nervously up and down, so fast that he could feel it. She bit on her bottom lip and gazed nervously around when she caught him watching her. Bellamy’s brows shot up in a silent question and she stopped immediately.
“Sorry. Nervous flyer.”
“Don’t tell me,” answered Bellamy ironically and turned the book page, but not without checking on the blonde one last time.
The woman seemed to relax as the plane reached its flight level. They had been through rain clouds and an airhole which made her gasp and Bellamy tried to ignore that this kind of sound went directly to his guts. He cleared his throat as quietly as possible and tried to keep his eyes focused on the pages while she started to bring down her luggage and pulled some things out. He tried so hard not to watch while she was doing it, that he was thinking about her all the time and re-read one line for the third time when the stewardess approached them, asking if they would like something to drink.
“Oh,” started the woman in surprise and again Bellamy reminded him not to think about this sound in another specific and very different situation because damn; he didn’t know her but she was kind of hot! And he was just a guy. A guy who hadn’t had any sex in a long time so he couldn’t hold himself and his thoughts back of going … dirty. The heat crawled up his neck while eavesdropping on her order.
“Do you have some ice tea? With a lemon slice and mint leaf maybe?”
“I’m not sure about the mint leaf but I’ll look. What can I bring you Mister Blake?” Addressed the stewardess Bellamy directly and made him look up.
He gave her a sweet smile before ordering “The usual. A scotch on ice and a small water with gas please.”
“Of course,” smiled the woman back and Bellamy nodded in thanks.
His eyes wandered back to the book, catching the blonde looking at him, which made him smile at her. He flashed her one of his significant smile, which she easily returned before looking back onto her sketchbook. Bellamy kept his eyes on her instead.
He didn’t want to be the creepy stranger who checked out women on public transportation but he couldn’t resist to sneak.
Above the stormy clouds the sun was shining right through the small window, making her blonde hair looking like gold. Like she was wearing a halo. Her skin looked even softer. She had rosy cheeks and her lips were captured between her teeth far too often.
She didn’t notice him watching her. She was too lost in her doings. The blonde crooked her head, eyeing her work before letting her hands fly over the paper, knowing every line she made. Bellamy’s eyes wandered along her hands towards her neck, down to her inviting cleavage and - oh Gosh he was such a creep! His eyes were literally glued on the curves of her breasts, making his thoughts race, when the flight attendant reached them, handing them their drinks.
Bellamy blushed, even though no one and especially not the blonde herself, had been seeing him. Even though he hoped his nervous smile didn’t give him away when the woman in front of him took her drink and sending him a short smile as a toast.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They landed in Chicago, welcomed by lightning, thunder and pouring rain one and a half hours after departing from Nashville. Bellamy just got up as the rest of the passengers and wanted to grab his luggage when the pilot’s voice filled the cabin, telling them that they had to remain seated because the airport stopped the check-in for everyone because of the storm. They weren’t allowed to leave the plane. A load groan went through the rows and Bellamy dropped back into his seat.
The loudest groan seemed to come from the woman in front of him.
“They can’t be serious. I have a hotel reservation!” She took a look at her watch before stopping one of the stewardesses, “How long do we have to wait in here?”
The woman’s smile was excusing. “Sadly we can’t tell you right now. The pilot has to talk to the manager first. We’ll let you know as soon as we have further information. We have to ask you to remain seated until then. I’m sorry.”
“Awesome,” spat the woman sarcastically when the attendant was gone, falling back into her seat.
Bellamy watched her before looking out of the window. He could barely see anything. They were in the middle of the tarmac, somewhere, and just the bolts lightened up the darkness. He rubbed his forehead. Gladly he didn’t have to get into any hotel but he was awake for more than sixteen hours now. All he wanted was to go to bed.
“Well,” started Bellamy shortly and turned towards the blonde, “looks like we’ve got some time to kill. I’m Bellamy.” He held out his hand, a charming smile on his lips.
The woman returned it immediately and shook his hand – her own couldn’t even close around his completely because it was too small – “Clarke.”
“So, Clarke what brings you to Chicago?”
“Wizard World Comic Con,” she said proudly and without any hesitation. She got an excited look on her face, returning Bellamy’s question onto him.
“I live here.”
“What did you do in Nashville then?”
“Visiting my mom. She still lives there. You?”
“Oh that’s sweet,” smiled Clarke and made Bellamy’s chest swell a little, “I live there.”
She smiled but shrugged together as a loud thunder rolled through the air. They both looked outside the window, watching the next lightning appear.
“What shitty weather,” mumbled Clarke and sighed loudly and Bellamy remembered that she had some kind of trouble before.
“You had some problem during boarding?”
She rolled her eyes at this, which made him chuckle lowly.
“Believe it or not but this fucking airline overbooked the flight. I bought my ticket six months ago and at the counter they told me that I don’t have any reservation. Can’t you believe that?”
Honestly? He could. Most of the airlines did that but he wouldn’t dare to tell her. He didn’t want to upset her any further. So he just shook his head, “Not really.”
“Oh yeah! I was so pissed. I still am! I mean, not that the plane was an hour too late, nooo. To make my day even better they decided to delete my booking!”
“So usually no first class for you?”
“Oh no. I could never afford it. But this seat wasn’t taken. So I got it as some kind of reparation. Which seems to be my luck now.” She grinned and then winked at him and Bellamy tried not to read too much into it. Maybe she had the same interest in him as he had in her?! Judging by her flirty smile she was flashing him right now – she had!
“Blessing in disguise, huh?”
“Yupp. And you are a regular on this flight or why does the whole crew seem to know you?”
Bellamy chuckled again, “Something like that?”
Then he added, “Like I said before, I visit my mom once in awhile. I’ll help her at her coffee shop and at the child-care. This time I stayed for almost two weeks. So yeah I’m well known.”
Clarke lifted her eyebrows, looking clearly interested in him. “So, part-time barista and nanny, huh?” A grin played around her lips.
Bellamy blushed a little before nodding, “Somehow, yeah.”
“And what are you doing when you are here in Chicago?”
“I’m working at the CME.”
“Chicago Mercantile Exchange.”
Clarke still blinked in confusion.
“I’m a broker,” explained Bellamy and that’s when the penny dropped.
“Oh, oh of course. Exchange, yeah. Sorry. So you’re exchanging what?”
“We are trading natural resources. And what about you?”
Clarke blushed, “I … I’m still looking for a job for myself. Right now I’m working at my best friend’s shop and draw a lot. Nothing really worth living.”
Bellamy opened his mouth to tell her that he didn’t judge her when the stewardess reached them once again, asking if she can get them something to eat.
“Why?” Asked Clarke immediately and the attendant shot her another apologetic look.
“The airport is still closed. We have to remain in here a little longer.”
“What? No way! I have a hotel reservation. We have been stuck in here for almost forty minutes. Why can’t you just let us go?”
“Because it’s an order Miss Griffin. We are truly sorry but right now we aren’t allowed to open the door. It’s for your own safety.”
“So you’ll pay for a new hotel room if I –”
“Like I said Miss Griffin, there is nothing we can do. We have to wait until the storm weakens. So to make the waiting as pleasant as possible – can I bring you something to drink or eat?”
The blonde woman opened her mouth, probably for another lash out, so that was the moment Bellamy interfered. He smiled gently at the stewardess because she wasn’t the one to blame for this situation. No one was.
“Would you be so kind to bring us some champagne, please? And maybe a few noshes?”
“Absolutely”, returned the woman with a thankful smile and disappeared behind the curtain, while Clarke was giving him a dark glance.
“You know she had been talking to me right?”
“Yeah, but she isn’t the one to blame for this situation, so you can keep your shit together and be more kind.” Bellamy put Clarke into her place, which made her scoff loudly.
“I’m not one of your mother’s children!”
“Then stop acting like one.”
Clarke glanced darkly at him before grabbing her phone, getting up and mumbling that she needed to make a phone call. When she disappeared Bellamy punched himself against his forehead. He didn’t have any right to talk to Clarke like that. She was upset, just like everyone. It wasn’t like she could go home just like him. She had a hotel reservation, which might cause some problems if they got stuck in here much longer.
After a few moments the food and drinks were brought to their table before Clarke returned, a pissed look on her face but Bellamy decided to talk to her anyway.
“Sorry about earlier,” he started but the blonde didn’t seem to give a damn about it. Bellamy sighed. “No luck with the hotel?”
She grabbed her glass of champagne and emptied it in one gulp.
“So I guess that is a no,” mumbled Bellamy and took a sip from his own glass.
“No. They told me I have to check-in within the next hour. Otherwise my reservation is invalid. And judging by the weather it doesn’t look like I’ll make it!” She sighed desperately.
Bellamy offered her a gentle smile. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. There are a few hotels here in Chicago. You’ll find another one.”
“Hopefully one where I can afford a room … otherwise you’re stuck with me.” The flirty grin was back on her lips. Her brows wiggled and Bellamy looked at her in amused confusion.
“Stuck with you?” He questioned.
“Oh yeah. I mean you are living here right? Sure you have a room to spare.”
“Well –” He started before being interrupted.
“Or maybe a bed to share,” she added cheeky and made Bellamy chuckle. His mind was starting to picture her in his bed already, naked, while he tried to not letting let it show on his face.
“What makes you think I have a bed to share?”
Fire glinting in her eyes when she answered, almost nonchalant.
“No ring on your finger, wearing clothes that are screaming ‘I’m a workaholic – which you probably are considering you’re a broker - and don’t have time for anything serious’ and being all flirty with me for the past hour. It doesn’t look like there is someone waiting for you. And I don’t take you for the cheating type of guy.”
Bellamy huffed in surprise. She hit the nail on the head. “Not bad,” he admitted. She clearly had good knowledge of human nature. He licked his lips before confirming her suggestions.
“You are right. But I’m not sure if I want to share my apartment with a stranger.”
Of course he would. Especially with someone as hot and interested as Clarke. It wasn’t like he never had a one night stand before. Like Clarke said earlier, it was what he was doing all the time.
“Stranger?” She echoed in shock. “We have been stuck in here for a little over an hour now. I wouldn’t call us strangers anymore Bellamy.”
A hot shiver ran down his spine right to his cock at the sound of his name. It was the first time she said it and his name never sounded sweeter. He grinned, locking his eyes with hers, feeling the tension building up while they got another glass of champagne.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They got stuck in the plane for three hours in whole.
Bellamy learned that Clarke was an only-child. That Wells Jaha was her best friend and that she had a cat named Molly when she was a kid. Her favorite color was green, she got a scar on her right knee because she fell from a horse when she was nine and she was a big fan of The Big Bang Theory and True Bloods which were the main reasons for visiting the convention.
In return Bellamy told her about his sister Octavia, his two best friends Murphy (who was a former soldier and now one of the best trauma surgeons in Illinois) and Miller (who worked for the government). They talked about their hobbies when Clarke asked him if he had been on a convention at least once in his life. No need to say that she was shocked when he answered with “No”.
“And you are a groupie who’s stalking her favorites through the whole country?” Asked Bellamy amused and Clarke stuck out her tongue, mumbling a long “noooo” and blushed – again.
Bellamy started to like the pink color on her cheeks. Imagine it getting darker and darker with every thrust he deepened himself into her.
“So, why are you going then?”
“Because I’m a groupie who’s chasing her favorites,” joked Clarke and added, “And because I’m trying to catch up on the lost time I wasted in a two-year relationship. Now doing what I always wanted to do, you know.”
“Was it that bad?”
Clarke nodded. “Pretty much. But … honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Bellamy just nodded when the pilot was talking through the micro again.
“The airport just started the check-in again. There are nineteen other planes with us so we would like you to remain seated until it’s our turn. We want to apologize one more time for the trouble and thanking you for your understanding and patience. Have a good further travel and good night.”
The passengers were clapping loudly and everyone groaned in relief. Bellamy looked at his phone. It was half past one in the morning. Knowing that Clarke’s reservation was invalid for a little over an hour. He looked at her, a pained expression on her face. She rubbed her forehead and sighed loudly, clearly thinking about where to head to now.
It took them another 30 minutes to get their luggage because of the other nineteen planes’ passengers that were waiting for theirs. The baggage claim was more than crowded and Bellamy arched his back and stretched his arms because of the long sitting. He got his suitcase first and waited for Clarke to get hers. She smiled at him in thanks.
“So,” he started slowly, walking through the exit and glancing at the blonde’s profile, “if you want, you can stay at my place tonight.”
Clarke stopped walking, having big and surprised eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, you said it before, we aren’t complete strangers anymore and you don’t look like a murderer or a creepy person to me, even though you are visiting a convention – and I have more than enough room anyway.”
“Wow, oh wow, that is – thank you. That’s so nice.” A big smile appeared on her lips.
“No problem.” His heart definitely didn’t jump at her bright smile. Definitely not. Okay, maybe a little.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They got out of the taxi 40 minutes later. “500 West Superior Street,” said the driver and Bellamy gave him a huge tip when he paid before heading after Clarke who stood in front of the building, her head in her neck and looking right to the top.
“It’s not even the biggest,” said Bellamy and got their suitcases out of the trunk before leading her inside a warm, shining marble floored foyer.
“Good evening Mister Blake,” greeted Harper the receptionist with a kind and professional smile and Bellamy approached his sister’s friend to greet her while Clarke stopped in the middle of the foyer, looking around. “Hello Harper. Any mail for me?”
“Oh yeah, but your sister got it already.” Her eyes flickered towards Clarke for a split of second, a sassy smile starting to appear on her lips when Bellamy’s brows shot up immediately.
“Don’t you dare to tell Octavia or the others,” he mumbled, looking over his shoulders before watching the brunette biting down her grin.
“I would never,” she said and Bellamy’s mood went down at the realization that Harper wouldn’t listen to him and tell the others that he brought a woman with him anyway.
He groaned. “Don’t you have discretion or something?”
“Am I a lawyer or a doctor?”
His head fell down in resignation. “We just got stuck for three hours in the fucking plane and she has nowhere else to go, okay? Please Harper. I know you’ll tell them anyway but please wait until tomorrow okay? I can’t handle my sister or anyone else tonight.”
He pleaded, which was a sign that he was god damn serious. He was tired as fuck and he just couldn’t handle his sister’s euphoric phone calls and the others teasing messages. It seemed like they had a lot of fun talking about Bellamy’s love life, especially since it had died down after Gina almost eight months ago. He never had brought anyone with him since then. Not that he hadn’t had any sex, he just went to the girl’s apartments to avoid a situation like this. Even though the last sex he had was over three months ago. Not that he was planning on hitting on Clarke … not if she didn’t want to at least. But that wasn’t any other person’s business, so he let out a relieved breath when Harper agreed on staying silent.
“Yeah, just for tonight Blake. Your sister will find out anyway.”
Bellamy rolled his eyes and returned to Clarke, leading her to the elevator. His hand on the small of her back when he pushed her gently into it. Ignoring the heat rushing through his arm into his stomach because of the feeling of her body under his palm. He looked over his shoulder, catching Harper watching them with a bright, knowing grin. He stopped himself from groaning and pushed the button 28 instead.
“Living above the others, huh?”
“I like being on the top,” winked Bellamy mischievously and clearly ambiguously.
“Too bad I like it too.”
Bellamy grinned and licked his lips slowly, knowing Clarke’s eyes watching his movement. His eyes flashed over her face and he heard her breath starting to deepen. Her cheeks were still pink, little from the champagne and much more because of the look he was giving her, when the elevator came to a stop and opened with a ping. They stepped out into a corridor which lead to one door.
“Is this the corridor to the door of the Department of Mysteries?” Chuckled Clarke and Bellamy stopped fishing his keys out of his pocket, a frown on his face.
Clarke’s feature slipped. “Department of Mysteries. Harry Potter? Oh, oh my God! Don’t tell me you never saw Harry Potter?!”
Bellamy felt his ears turning red. “Well,” he started but Clarke gasped in shock.
“You can’t be serious. What kind of life are you living? No conventions, no Harry Potter?!” Said Clarke like his inexperience was personally offending her.
“I saw Harry Potter,” defended Bellamy himself, “like – eleven years ago or something?”
It didn’t make it any better.
“Eleven years? So you’ve only seen the first four movies!”
“Does this make me a bad person now or …?”
“No, but kind of weird.”
Bellamy scoffed, “Oh this coming from you.”
“What? Do you think I’m weird?”
He bit his tongue before saying anything too bad. Instead he asked, “Do you want to come in or not?” He slit the key into the lock and opened the door, while Clarke mumbled, “Says the guy who reads a history book for fun.”
Bellamy decided to ignore the comment and stepped inside, hearing Clarke following him, he switched on the light and a “Holy fucking shit” slipped out of Clarke’s mouth. This time Bellamy couldn’t hold back a grin. He closed the door, watching in complete satisfaction while Clarke’s widened eyes flew through the big room, over the wooden floor and back to him.
“Oh my fucking God! Are you kidding me? This, this is your apartment?”
“Penthouse,” corrected Bellamy the blonde, amused and hung his jacket aside before leading her to the open kitchen.
“Penthouse?! Who are you – Richard Gere? Because I definitely feel like Julia Roberts right now. You have seen Pretty Woman, right? Oh God…” She turned around, taking in her surroundings, still in disbelief and shock.
“Of course I’ve seen Pretty Woman,” retorted Bellamy, leaning against a kitchen counter, while Clarke was standing in the middle of the big living area, letting her eyes fly over the windows, looking right outside into the city.
“I fucking can’t believe it,” she breathed, “This living room is bigger than my whole apartment.” Her hands wandered over the couch. “How much square footage do you have?” She came closer, eyeing the kitchen made out of cherry wood.
“Almost 5,000 –”
“5,000 square feet?!” Shrieked Clarke with a high pitched voice and causing pain in Bellamy’s ears.
“For you? This – God! How much do you pay for this?”
Normally Bellamy wouldn’t tell. Not only because you didn’t talk about money but also, and this was the more important reason, he didn’t want to give her a heart attack. He licked his lips, rubbing his neck like he was ashamed and answered anyway,
To his own surprise Clarke stayed quiet. She blinked. Then,
“What? $10,000 per month?”
“That’s how you usually pay rent, yes.”
“What the he- $10,000 for a place to live? Are you sure you aren’t trading drugs on the exchange?”
That made Bellamy chuckle. “I’m positive yeah.”
She huffed before shaking her head. “This is too much, really. I have to sit down.” She hopped onto the stool at the kitchen island and was still shaking her head. Bellamy eyed her in amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. Watching Clarke rake her hand through her blonde hair, made him imagine that it would be his own doing that. His eyes dropped down, feeling his throat going dry when they reached her breasts, so he cleared it, turning towards the fridge.
“Want something to drink?”
“I thought you haven’t been home the last two weeks.”
“I haven’t. But I’m sure my sister filled up the fridge after taking this place over, so – what do you want?”
“Uhm, I don’t know. A water?”
Bellamy looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows scooting up. “Seriously? Just water? No lemon slice or mint leaf?” He teased and earned himself a stuck out tongue from Clarke.
“Well, what can you offer then?”
He turned around and overviewed the drinks. “Almost everything. Wine, champagne, water, juice, ice tea –”
Bellamy grinned. “Okay, it’s ice tea then.” He grabbed the can and poured her a drink. “Want some cubes?”
Clarke shook her head, “No thank you.” He smiled shortly. She did the same.
Bellamy took a sip, never letting go of Clarke’s eyes while she was doing the same. Which made him gulp even harder. When Clarke put down the glass she licked her lips, making Bellamy tightening his grip around the glass.
“So Bellamy Blake, what’s your story?” She asked interested, leaning forward and giving him an excellent view into her cleavage. It took all his willpower not to look at it (for too long).
“Yeah … I mean, this is huge and it looks like it’s all normal to you. But on the other hand you are visiting your mother and helping her out in her coffee shop, so – what’s your story?”
“Okay, well, it’s not much. My sister and I were raised by my mother. We had less than $800 each month, sometimes even less. So I started working at 16. After finishing school I signed up for the army because of the good money. Then mom started dating a guy named Marcus Kane. He is a pretty good man. One she deserves. I was twenty-four back then. I resigned and started to go to school. Finance. Got a job at Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago for a year and have been working at the exchange for three years now. That’s my story.”
“That’s it? You are working at the exchange and can afford something like this?”
“What should I say – I’m pretty good at what I do.” He winked and a mischievous grin spread over her lips.
“I bet you are.” Clarke said “But seriously – how much do you earn with this?”
Bellamy licked his lips, clearly feeling uncomfortable.
“Okay, okay, I´ll change the question. What was your biggest win and your biggest lost?”
“Ufff … the biggest lost was, I don’t know, $50,000?”
Her eyes widened again but she remained quiet, mouthing $50,000 silently.
“And my biggest win. It was about $80,000.”
“Okay I have to ask you again – how much do you earn? This is unbelievable!”
“Between $18,000 and $30,000.”
Bellamy nodded, causing Clarke to knock back the rest of her drink at once. That was when he asked her about her story. She had been interrogating him like an FBI agent, so it was only fair to tell him at least as much.
Clarke started to blush again and yeah, he definitely liked it.
“Well,” she wet her lips – not that he kept watching her lips, no -, “my story is quite the opposite. My mother is a CEO of a hospital in Washington and my dad worked for the NSA. So, I’m from Washington D.C. My, uhm, my dad died eight years ago, turning mine and my mom’s world upside down. He died of cancer and it was a really rough time for both of us. I fought with my mother almost every day and it was pretty bad. But, time heals wounds right? We started to get better but I couldn’t stay in D.C. any longer and started to travel through the USA. For the past two years I’ve been living with my best friend Wells and his fiancée Luna in Nashville. He moved there almost three years ago because of Luna and yeah. I never studied, even though I always wanted to. But when my dad died … I don’t know. It changed everything. I still don’t know what I want to do, which is kind of embarrassing because I’m 29 now and, well … I’m still looking for the right, for the perfect job you know? I’m fine with working for Wells but it’s nothing I want to do forever. But I also don’t want my mother’s money, which she always offers me anyway. I mean, I don’t need a fortune for living. I just want to do something I love and be happy. No offense.” She added quickly and Bellamy waved her off, smiling.
“It’s okay. I mean isn’t that what we all want to do? A job that makes us happy? A life that makes us happy?”
“Yeah,” breathed Clarke and let her eyes wandering to the window again. She sighed. “That would be great to find.”
He scanned her profile, watching her teeth burying into her bottom lip. His eyes wandered over her rosy cheeks, along her neck and back to the breasts. He bit his inner cheek, feeling his blood running lower into his pants and the heat upon his neck. So he finished his glass of ice tea and looked at the clock. It was almost three a.m. He rubbed his eyes, tiredness hitting him out of nowhere and he suppressed a yawn.
“When do you have to get up?” He asked and put their empty glasses into the sink.
Clarke scooted out of her thoughts and frowned, thinking.
“Uhm, I don’t know. I have to be at the convention around 9. How long is it to the Hilton Chicago?”
“10 to 15 minutes car drive. Almost half an hour if you take the metro, brown line and purple one,” told Bellamy and added, “But at that time it doesn’t make a difference if you take a taxi or the metro.”
Clarke chewed on her lip, nodding slowly. “Okay, then I’ll have to get up a little before eight I guess. You?”
“In almost three hours?”
“Yeah, I promised Octavia I’d help her with her thesis before heading to work, so – three hours.”
Clarke grimaced and shuddered. “Then we have to get you into bed I guess.”
Bellamy chuckled, “Wouldn’t mind some hours of sleep to be honest.”
That was when Clarke hopped off the stool, Bellamy truly tried not to look at her bouncing breasts, and told him to show her her sleeping place. They didn’t even get out of the living area when she asked him amusingly, “Is there a forbidden corridor or room? You know, just like in the Beauty and the Beast?”
Again her words curled his lips into a smile. What a nerd she was, he liked it. More than he should because they only knew each other for a few hours.
“Even if I had, I’m sure you wouldn’t listen. Just like Belle,” he answered and Clarke punched him lightly into the shoulder. “Wow, at least you have seen the Beauty and the Beast. I’m impressed.”
He looked over his shoulder, his brow’s disappeared behind his curls, “I have seen every Disney classic at least four times, okay? Just because I haven’t seen Harry Potter doesn’t mean I don’t have any knowledge in films.”
Clarke grinned as an answer, just like Octavia used to when she was eight. Bellamy shook his head at this memory and went along the floor in silence.
“So, here is the bath- Clarke?” He turned around, Clarke had disappeared. “Clarke?” Shouted Bellamy and looked around. Where the hell had she disappeared? He went back a little and a heavy gust waved through his hair. He knew immediately where she was. She’d found the terrace. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Clarke facing the city lights, her hands onto the railing. The raining had stopped but was still in the air. He heard her taking a deep breath. His arms were crossed over his chest and he bit his inner cheek, while watching her.
“Enjoying the view?”
Clarke chuckled, looking over her shoulder when she told him,
“I really do hate you Bellamy.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She rolled her eyes, turning back to the view. “This is unbelievable. The view is amazing.” She mumbled, sounding like she was getting lost into it. Just like Bellamy got lost in watching her.
“It really is,” retorted Bellamy but instead of watching the lightened skyscrapers his eyes were laid down on her blonde curls and the deliciously looking curves which were hid under all these clothes. He licked his lips in hunger, before her question made him look up again.
“So is this your strategy of seduction? Bringing the girls up here and then show them this monster terrace with this kill-worthing view?”
“If my charm isn’t enough, maybe?!”
She grinned over her shoulders.
“Does it work?” He asked interested.
He grabbed his heart in played disappointment and hurt when she shook her head, “Absolutely not.”
“Damn,” sighed Bellamy and made Clarke laugh. It echoed in his ears and in his head, making his heart beat faster, running through his whole body because it sounded like the voice of an angel. He grinned proudly, wanting to make her laugh again. The wind increased, so after a few more moments Clarke turned around and pushed past him. When she did, she was much closer than she had to be. Her breasts almost touching his chest and the small grin on her face told Bellamy that she did it on purpose.
When he showed Clarke the bathroom for a second time she was right there to let out a soft “Wow”, going inside and taking a long look. The bathroom was huge, had a shower and a bathtub in it and –"Is this a flat screen?“ She pointed at the switched off TV on the opposite wall (right in front of the tub).
"No, it’s the queen’s magical mirror from Snow White,” teased Bellamy because it was her own fault, claiming he didn’t know anything about movies. “Will you ever stop?“
Bellamy shook his head. “Nope.” She rolled her eyes and groaned. “I know you know something about movies.”
"If you want to take a shower tomorrow, the towels are in there.” He pointed at the cabinet next to Clarke, who nodded shortly before the big mosaic picture caught her attention.
While Clarke was scanning the wall, Bellamy couldn’t help himself but watching the blonde’s figure one more time. His eyes trailed up and down, making his jeans get tighter. He appreciated every inch of her body. The curvy legs and hips, the amazing breasts and when his eyes went up her neck towards her face he noticed through the mirror that Clarke had been watching him, watching her. He swallowed, feeling his cheeks heating up because she caught him checking her out! But judging by the fierce look she was giving him she didn’t care. Quite the opposite – she was checking him out through the mirror, licking and biting her bottom lip when her eyes lingered over his forearms, causing his erection to become more visible.
Moments of silence passed by. Moments in which their eyes lingered on one another, none of them saying or doing anything. Not until Clarke faced him, leaning against the marbled basin, pushing her breasts out, more than necessary, making it impossible for him not to look at it. So his eyes slipped to her cleavage for two seconds before reminding himself of look into her eyes but it was too late. She had a knowing grin on her lips,
“Liking what you see?”
His throat was dry, so he swallowed hard, not wanting to give away too much but knowing it was too late when he heard his raspy voice telling her, “Maybe.”
Clarke tipped her head down, almost shyly, then she looked back at him, right into his eyes. She started chewing on her bottom lip again, driving Bellamy wild because that was all he wanted to do himself, capture her lip between his teeth, sucking and making her moan his name.
Without noticing Bellamy stepped closer, his eyes raked over her body while she crooked her head, studying him. He stopped an arm length in front of her, hearing her raked breath. His heart pumped wildly in its ribcage.
“What would you do if I told you that the terrace might have worked?” Asked the blonde in a husky whisper, pitching his stomach because he could hear the want and lust in it.
He licked his lips, his eyes shooting from hers to her lips, lingering there far too long. He put one hand on the basin, starting to cage her between him and the marble.
“I don’t know. Wouldn’t speak for me right?” He answered lowly; setting the other hand on Clarke’s other side and captured her, stepping closer. They were only a few inches apart. So close that their chests almost touched each other during their deep breathing. She bit down on her bottom lip, a little heavier than before, making him groan almost loudly, while looking up into his eyes. He started to drown into the blue, when her hands slowly moved over his chest, causing more heat. He felt her fingers wandering over his shoulders, clapping together behind his neck and started playing with the nape of it.
“That’s true,” she mumbled, never letting go of his eyes. “So, what would you do if I told you that your charm might have worked?”
“Well then,” Bellamy started and closed the remaining space between them, having her body flush against his, letting his hands scoop towards her hips and to the small of her back, making her shudder a little. “I would probably,” his hand lifted her shirt a little, just as much as his hand could slip under it, touching her skin, “just touch you here.” His spread palm wandered to the small of her back, pushing her closer.
“And then what?” Asked Clarke anticipating and eager, letting her own hand disappear into the mop of his hair, scratching her nails over his scalp, getting a deep sound out of the back of his throat.
“Then I would probably kiss you.”
Her eyes shined with fire and lust, dropping to his lips when he remained still. His gaze flickering between the blue of her eyes and the red of her lips.
“What the hell are you waiting for then?” She edged him on.
Bellamy’s jaw clenched, breathing heavily through his nose and almost choking when Clarke pushed hard against his pelvis.
Yeah, what the hell was he waiting for? She couldn’t be more obvious that she was okay with all this. She pushed herself against him, hardening her grab around his neck, almost throwing her breasts into his face, watching him with the biggest eyes he’d have ever seen, smirking in anticipation. Lingering for more.
But he was Bellamy, so he couldn’t just go for it. Instead he asked, “Are you sure?”
That made Clarke roll her eyes and groan in annoyance.
“Just go for it Blake. We both know we want to know how I sound like screaming your god damn name.” Her voice was rough, eyes dark and mischievous.
She leaned forward, their lips almost touching when she mumbled, “Make me scream your name.”
That was what broke Bellamy out of his stillness. He groaned loudly, her words making his dick throb harder in his jeans and he closed the last inch between their lips. Crashing his own hard on hers.
She moaned immediately into his mouth, pulling him closer, sliding her foot over his leg before he grabbed her thighs, lifting her up and sitting her down onto the basin. He felt her feet lock behind him, pushing him further against her center, causing him to moan when his erection pushed hard against her body.
Bellamy’s hand raked over Clarke’s side, cradling her face and letting his fingertips grab her blonde curls. His tongue licked along her lips and the second he felt her mouth open he scooted his tongue inside, earning himself a deliciously sounding groan out of the back of Clarke’s throat when his tongue hit hers. He started feeling dizzy, getting out of breath and the almost painful pressure in his jeans didn’t help either. His left hand wandered down, over Clarke’s shoulder towards her breast, grabbing it with his palm, squeezing it hard and making Clarke saying his name out of breath for the first time.
Heat was taking over his body and he lunged forward, deepening the kiss, pressing his hand harder against her breast, feeling her fingernails sinking into his shoulders, right through his shirt. She pushed her pelvis against his, both moaned impatient. That was when Bellamy pulled away, watching Clarke’s dark eyes, her swollen lips. Their foreheads touched each other and he heard her raked breathing while palming her breast, which she returned in pushing as hard as she could against his cock. They started panting. He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat. Clarke bit her bottom lip, cheeks turning into a deep red.
Bellamy shot forward, capturing her bottom lip between his, sucking hard and letting his hands raise her shirt. She helped him get it off and his eyes lingered over the freed cleavage, wanting to see more. Wanting more he could touch. But first he put his lips onto her jaw, peppered it with hot open-mouthed kisses, along her neck. He started to bite and suck at is until she groaned loudly, echoing in the bathroom. “Fuck,” she hissed and shoved the few strands of hair out of her face, arching her back against him while Bellamy’s mouth wandered over the curves of her breasts.
His finger pushed the cup of the bra aside so he could take her nipple into his mouth, moaning at the feeling of it against his tongue. His hands gripped her hips hard, sucking at the soft spot of hers, feeling her shuddering underneath him.
Clarke’s left hand leaned against the wall, knocking down his aftershave and the toothpaste when his teeth buried into her nipple, causing her to yell in lust. A smile appeared on Bellamy’s lips because it truly was one of the best sounds he ever heard. Clarke’s right hand raked towards his belt, pulling him closer at first but then fumbling with the buckle. Her nails scratching right into his skin above it, making his erection grow harder.
He let go of her breast, kissing his way upwards to her lips, pushing his tongue against hers again before feeling her hands on the hem of his shirt. She didn’t have to say anything, with one swift movement the shirt was out and Bellamy unclasped her bra, throwing it away. He groaned loudly when her heavy breasts bumped down, her nipples as hard as his crook.
“Fuck,” he muttered and swallowed. “Fuck Clarke,” he started but she lunged forward and pulled him into a fucking delicious and promising kiss. His hands tangled back to her hair, while hers scratched over his skin, making him hiss in pain because her nails burrowed into him. She panted against his mouth, letting her lips wander along his jaw, towards his ear and biting into his earlobe, making his grip harder.
Her open mouthed went along his neck and Bellamy pushed her hair away, giving her neck the same treatment. When she started to bite, so did he. When she licked at his skin, he did the same. He also pushed his erection right against her when she pushed up against him. They both moaned loudly, open mouthed.
“Bed,” whispered Clarke pleadingly and her voice was rough, almost broken.
Bellamy swallowed, nodding hastily. “Yeah.”
He grabbed her thighs and pulled her up, leading her into his bedroom which had a big window in the front (with an excellent view on the city as well, but it seemed like Clarke didn’t really care about it this time).
He let her down on the mattress, crawling above her, pushing her down and kissing along her neck. Her fingers lingered through his curly hair, her moaning driving him wild. He braced himself with one arm next to Clarke’s head while his other hand palming her chest, making her back arch hard against him. She threw her legs around him, pushing him down and swallowed his loud moan with a long kiss.
It took them almost forever to get at each other’s pants. Clarke was the first. Her fingers unbuckled his belt after playing with it and teasing him almost to death. Her feet pushed the jeans down and he sighed in relief when at least the heavy jeans were off of his cock. He let his tongue slip around Clarke’s neck, taking her earlobe right into his mouth before groaning loudly, panting, when he felt her hands pressing over the fabric of his briefs. He heard her chuckle at that and bit down a little harder, making her gasp again.
Then it was him who took off her pants, along with her underwear, though her protests.
“Hey,” she yelled but stopped immediately when his palm rubbed over her inner thigh. Bellamy licked his lips, leaning down again, kissing Clarke and letting his hand wander up and down her thigh but never touching her where she wanted him to. He was teasing her, on purpose.
“Bellamy,” panted Clarke warningly and making his eyes glint in amusement.
He smirked, putting his lips closely to her left ear, mumbling a rough “I haven’t even started”.
She was about to complain when his fingertips brushed her pussy just so lightly, nothing more like a feather. But it was enough to make her gulp her breath. He grinned and did it again, educing a long “Oh” out of her.
He licked his lips, feeling the heat inside his body watching her falling apart underneath him, without him doing anything but touching her feather lightly, turned him on even more.
“Oh?” He repeated and let his teeth scratch over the skin of her neck, while her fingers clutched into the blanket. “Didn’t you say you wanted to scream my name?”
His finger hovered over her entrance, waiting for her to say it. But instead she opened her eyes, looking at him when she challenged him, “Make me.”
“Nothing easier than this,” gave Bellamy back and Clarke tensed all along when he pressed his finger against her clit, rubbing it slowly. She bit down her bottom lip, like she was holding herself back from saying his name. Bellamy grinned, putting more effort into his doing, pushing a little harder and getting another “Oh” out of her mouth.
“Come on Clarke. Say it, say my name like you wanted to”, said Bellamy with his deep and husky voice, his throat going dry again.
She bit down on her lip again, a grin spreading over her face. Which made Bellamy almost chuckle. That’s when he stopped rubbing at her clit, waiting a few seconds for Clarke, frowning and looking up in question when he pushed his finger inside of her without any warning. Her jaw dropped and a loud, a very loud “Oh God!” filled the room. He felt her wetness around his finger, making him almost get off immediately. He cranked his finger up, pushing harder and making her walls tightened around it. He grunted, burying his face into her neck, telling himself not to move faster because it felt too good.
He added another finger, kissing her neck and taking her nipples back between his teeth. He licked at her, making her shudder and then a loud and almost desperate “Bellamy,” fell from her lips when he added a third finger, thrusting hard into her pussy. Her nails sank into his skin so hard that he knew that the lines would still be there tomorrow. Her walls tightened around his finger when he moved faster, unable to stop himself because her panting, her little “Oh God” and “Yeah, faster, please” making him want to fell over the edge. So he didn’t stop. He pushed harder, faster and swallowing her moan when she came with his mouth, getting goose bumps by feeling her closing around his fingers.
Her jaw clenched and her eyes were shut down when she came down from her orgasm. She swallowed hard and Bellamy smiled, peppering her neck with soft kisses. But instead of waiting for her to calm down he dropped his mouth down her body, over her chest and her stomach, settling right between her legs.
A mischievous grin played on his mouth when he looked upwards, watching her biting on her bottom lip, clearly not ready for another round.
“Just give me a sec,” she mumbled. “I just can’t –”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you,” promised Bellamy and turned towards her hot and rosy spot. His eyes lingered over her pussy, he licked his lips in anticipation and couldn’t wait to taste her with his mouth.
“No, Bellamy, really I – oooh!”
He had put his mouth onto her, starting with one soft and long stroke. Her legs quivered at the contact, while her hip pushed itself against him. He held her still with his hands, hearing her panting. He took his time before licking her again, then his teeth scratched the inside of her vulva.
“Oh God” Her hands wandered over her stomach right into his hair, tugging and scratching, making him moan against her. The vibration made Clarke sigh his name in return.
He let his tongue move over her clit again and again, starting to suck at it. Her panting getting louder and louder, mixing “Oh God” with “Bellamy” more often and the sound of it reaching right to his cock which was still trapped in his briefs.
Clarke’s body started to shake, she was getting closer. Bellamy sucked harder, pushing his tongue against her pussy and moaning at the sweet sound of his name. His thumb slipped over her clit, rubbing hard circles against it, sucking and licking her as fast and hard as he could, feeling him getting thicker and thicker. Clarke shaking underneath him, tugging at his hair with one hand and grabbing the headboard hard with the other, screaming a loud “Bell…” before falling over the edge.
His heart sped like hell, the throbbing in his briefs was almost too painful at this stage. He swallowed hard, gulping for air as well before crawling upwards Clarke’s body, kissing her. Making her taste herself on his tongue.
“Oh God,” she whispered when she shoved him away because she clearly hadn’t her breath under control again. She swallowed, wiping the sweat from her forehead and squeezing her eyes shut before looking at him. Her cheeks red like hell, her neck and chest flushed from the orgasms he had given her, which filled him with satisfaction.
“I really hate you,” she breathed
Bellamy grinned. “You already said that.” He rolled over to his side, bracing himself at his forearm and running his other hand softly over Clarke’s skin.
They remained silent for a short time, just eyeing and smiling at each other. Then Clarke started biting down on her bottom lip again and Bellamy scooted down pulling it between his own, wanting to make this kiss kind of unchaste and almost innocent but Clarke clearly didn’t share his attention and slipped her hand into his hand before lingering for his tongue, wanting it to follow hers.
A soft smile spread over Bellamy’s lips when he cradled himself above Clarke again, still keeping his mouth on hers when he felt her fingers wandering down to his ass, pulling down his underwear. It was a curse and a blessing at the same time when she took the briefs off and his cock was released. It pumped back hard against him and when Clarke pushed her hip a little upwards she touched the head of his dick with her hot and still wet vadge.
A muffled sound left Bellamy’s mouth at that contact and he cursed a low “Fucking shit” when Clarke did it again.
Bellamy swallowed, feeling the heat crawling through his body and resisted the urge to just push into her, hard and deep. He had to close his eyes for a second to muster all his strength before looking down into the big blue eyes and the almost dirty smirk of Clarke’s. He wet his lips, feeling her foot wandering over his ass, ready to push him down.
“C-Condom first,” he cracked and reached for the cupboard to get one out. He just grabbed one when Clarke’s fingers closed around him and pumped it slowly up and down.
“Oh shit!” Shouted Bellamy and groaned loudly, trying to get back as fast as he could. But Clarke didn’t stop, making his penis pulsing dangerously fast.
“Clarke…” His voice broke away and he gritted through his teeth, “You should stop. O-o-otherwise, oh fuck!” He put his hand around her small wrist, making her stop pumping, holding the condom in the other hand and taking a few deep breaths before telling her,
“You should stop if you want me to go any further.”
Clarke licked her lips, so slowly that it was almost enough to bring him over the edge for good.
She pulled her hand away from his dick and let her fingers wander over his chest and his arms, right to his shoulders when he pulled on the condom and settled himself above her.
He put his forearms besides her head, lowering himself down and entered. Their foreheads were pressed against each other, their eyes were closed when he got deeper and deeper. Inch for inch. Both panting, moaning before Bellamy pulled her into a sweet kiss. He let his mouth caress her lips, slipping his tongue softly against hers, pulling out of her completely, waiting and thrusting back inside as slowly as before.
Her fingernails scratched his skin lightly, legs crossing over his ass, meeting him in his thrusts. He sucked at her bottom lip before kissing her jaw once more, petting her neck and feeling the heat increasing again. Her legs tightened, pulling him closer and keeping him in place. His thrusts didn’t leave her anymore. He braced himself harder against the mattress, letting his right hand wander down over her breast to her leg, adjusting it a little higher so he could thrust deeper into her. His lips and teeth along her soft skin on her neck and shoulder.
With the new angle they both panted faster, moaned louder and Bellamy quickened up at his pace. He bit down at her skin, slinging one arm underneath her back to hold her into place when he buried himself deeper and harder into her. The left had grabbed the headboard.
“Fuck Clarke, I- I can’t hold off any longer,” mumbled Bellamy with all strength he still had, sweat covering his body.
“You don’t have – just – oh, okay – just harder, harder Bellamy!”
She winced, her legs closing around him completely and her hands clutching onto him like a lifeline.
He licked his lips, watching Clarke closing her eyes, her face getting redder and her mouth forming loud and silent “Ohs”.
He paced up one more time, thrusting so hard into her that the bed started to shake. The headboard slammed against the wall and if Bellamy wasn’t about to come he would have worried about the bed braking but right now he couldn’t care less. He held Clarke as close as he could, feeling her walls shutting down around him, screaming his name like a prayer, like a salvation when he felt his dick pulsing hot and fast. He panted into her neck, thrusting deeper and deeper. Groaning a “fuck Clarke” before following her over the edge.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The piercing sound of his alarm woke him mercilessly out of his sleep. With a moan Bellamy switched it off, eyes still closed and his sleep-drunken body fought against waking up. He felt hungover, even though he hadn’t been drinking (that much) yesterday. Bellamy breathed heavily through his nose, pressing the ball of his hands into his closed eyes before forcing himself to open them. He yawned and started to stretch when he looked to his side, facing the sleeping figure of Clarke’s back. Her blonde curls fell over her back, which was barely covered with a blanket. His eyes scooted down to where it disappeared, feeling his cock throbbing again, more in lust than because of the morning erection. He couldn’t help himself but smile a little, cursing his promise to Octavia because otherwise he could have remained in bed, pulling the woman closer and maybe, just maybe, going for another round.
He stayed still for a few seconds before forcing himself out of bed. Before heading to the bathroom he looked over his shoulder, making sure Clarke was still asleep. After a quick shower, which made his muscles relax a little, he went back to the bedroom, finding Clarke on his side of the bed now, burying herself deep into the pillow. The man started to smile at this picture and tiptoed to the drawer, getting dressed before leaving a short note on the cupboard.
If you need a place to crash tonight, call me. 773-555-8955 Bellamy
He resisted the urge to bend down to give her a peck. It was way too crazy anyway, he didn’t have to make it weirder than it already was. So he got out of the bedroom, but not without checking on Clarke one more time, taking her in, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time he laid his eyes on her and closed the door.
He grabbed his bag and his cell phone which he forgot in his jacket last night and groaned loudly when he saw the four missed calls from Octavia and the 30 messages in their group chat.
Harper [2:54 a.m.]: I can’t keep it to myself any longer. Sorry Bellamy.
Jasper [2:55 a.m.]: What?! oO
Harper [2:55 a.m.]: He brought a girl home.
Miller [2:55 a.m.]: Are you sure?!
Jasper [2:55 a.m.]: o_O
O [2:56 a.m.]: OMG! Don’t screw us Harper!
Harper [2:56 a.m.]: I’m not. It was a blonde beauty. He said they got stuck in the plane for three hours and she had no place to go.
Jasper [2:56 a.m.]: Still: o_O
O [2:57 a.m.]: Blonde beauty huh? That’s new.
Monty [2:58 a.m.]: Thanks to you Jasper is dancing and singing and I’m awake now! -.-
Miller [2:58 a.m.]: What a gentleman…
Harper [2:59 a.m.]: Sorry Monty **hug**
Jasper [3:00 a.m.]: I’m just happy for my friend Bellamy!
O [3:01 a.m.]: It’s still weird that you are dancing Jas! Do you have a picture of her Harper?
Harper [3:01 a.m.]: :-/ No, sorry
Raven [3:21 a.m.]: He brought a girl home? Can’t believe it!
Murphy [3:24 a.m.]: You can’t? Well then come over. I really hate living above you Bellamy!
O [3:24 a.m.]: Try to live with him in the same four walls for almost fourteen years!
Harper [3:25 a.m.]: Should I call him and tell him that there is a complaint? xD
Raven [3:25 a.m.]: He won’t hear it. When Bellamy is doing what he is doing he is doing it pretty good.
O [3:26 a.m.]: Urgh, Raven! It’s my brother!
Raven [3:26 a.m.]: xDDD
Murphy [3:27 a.m.]: He doesn´t have to be this loud. Seriously, I can hear almost everything! I’m scared that they are going to crush through the ceiling any moment!
Miller [3:28 a.m.]: No comment needed!
Jasper [3:30 a.m.]: He needs to let off a lot of pressure considering Gina happened almost eight months ago.
O [3:31 a.m.]: Ok, I’m out now. I don’t really want to think about my brother’s dick!
Monty [3:32 a.m.]: **rofl**
Murphy [3:59 a.m.]: Round three … fuck you Blake!
Jasper [4:01 a.m.]: I think the mysterious blonde is already doing that.
Murphy [4:02 a.m.]: Shut up Jasper!
That’s when the conversation ended. Bellamy groaned, rubbing his forehead and decided that it would be better not to say anything. So he slipped his phone back into his jacket and went outside. Regretting his promise to Octavia even more.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It had been a long day when Bellamy returned to the complex. He was still tired, hadn’t slept more than two hours last night and more than disappointed because he had been watching his cell phone all day and Clarke didn’t contact him. No call, no message from an unknown number. Instead he had to deal with his annoying sister and his friends, getting a sermon from Murphy about keeping it quiet the next time otherwise he would have to kill him and some other, really unimportant things.
He leaned against the elevators wall, his head against the metal and a loud sigh escaping his mouth, eyes shot. It was weird. He shouldn’t be as disappointed as he was just because a woman he just had known for a few hours (and he had amazing sex with) didn’t call him. It was a one night stand. Nothing more. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it. It was what he was doing for a long time now, but … he still felt disappointed. With a ping the door opened and Bellamy stepped into the corridor, fumbling his keys out of his pocket without looking up. A smile curled around his lips, hearing her voice in his head when she had asked him last night if this was the corridor to the Department of Mysteries. He chuckled and shook his head, looking up and froze dead in his tracks.
There she was, the blonde beauty, leaning against the wall with a shy smile on her face. “Hey.”
“Hey,” retorted Bellamy and felt his lips curled up. He came closer, still processing that she was standing in front of his door, clearly waiting for him.
“How was your day?” She asked almost nonchalant and Bellamy shrugged, “Okay … how was the con?”
“Okay,” answered Clarke softly. He looked into her eyes, feeling how he was getting lost. He raised his hand, putting it gently against her cheek, caressing his thumb over the soft skin before asking quietly,
She nodded, biting her lip shortly before whispering, “Yeah … had to think about you all the time. Which was pretty distracting.”
“Don’t tell me,” he huffed and then leaned down, pulling her into a sweet, chaste and pretty long, slowly kiss, He felt her arms closing around his neck, pulling herself against him and while his right hand cradled deeper into her hair, his left arm slung around her waist. Both started smiling and Bellamy knew that this wouldn’t be the last time he would find Clarke Griffin waiting for him at his door.
Meihem prompt: When they first realized they were attracted to one another.
It’s instant for him, of course. Like a snap of a finger, the blink of an eye, or the boom after he presses that little red button. But things usually happen instantly for him. He knows he needs to live in the moment because in the very next one he could have a bullet between his eyes or yet another missing limb. Or he could just wind up as a smoking pile of ash.
She doesn’t look like everyone else around them, at least not to him. She wears a big fluffy coat and furry boots and has the cutest pair of glasses perched on her nose. People have been shooting at them and they fight one very skilled and scary sniper, but she still wears those glasses that could be shot off her face or easily taken away or smashed to bits. blinding her. When he first meets her, Jamison instantly notices all of those things, including her folded arms and the pout on her face and the distrust he can practically smell on her. She doesn’t seem to be happy they’re here, him and Roadie, but it doesn’t stop him from taking an instant liking to her because she’s unlike anyone he’s ever seen before. He doesn’t know the cold, doesn’t know her element of choice she uses as a weapon. She’s a mystery, like faraway space or the deep depths of the ocean, or even the snow she can create that he’s never actually felt before.
some of my favourite joker
fan-designs ;; WHY ARE THEY SO GOOD? ? (click on the pictures to see who they belong to ;; ) btw excuse my trashy coloring (especially the first one omg it looks more blond than green)
#2 I’m lucky because I’ve gotten to know a thing or two about Beth (mum’s the word but bless her) so going off that ... let’s say Will takes the two of them somewhere & gets caught up talking to a girl across the room and Beth is all ready to swoop in there but Amelia pulls her back because she either A) is enjoying herself watching Will talk his way out of an awkward situation or B) has learned to enjoy a little mischief once in a while and uses the opportunity to take a page from Beth’s book
Sooooo… this took me three days because I’m absurd. Way to fail at flashfics, self. However, like a true flashfic, it hasn’t even been reread much less proofread.
September 2045 - Galloway Position
There’s a kind of exhilaration whitewater rafting that fifteen-year-old Bethany’s never quite found anywhere else. The rush of the current, the way the whitecaps lap over the edge of the raft and her attention goes hyper-focused on what she’s doing… she loves it. She always has. Hiking is great, rock climbing is better, but whitewater rafting is the best.
She laughs, the spray of the surprisingly cold water peppering her face as they hit a class four rapid aptly named The Undertow and she has to hold on to the rope running along the side of the raft to keep from being bucked off into the water.
“Reverse on this side!” their guide shouts, gesturing to the opposite side of the raft where her big brother is easily doing the work of any two people on the other side. It keeps throwing them off-kilter. There’s too much power to his stroke with the oar and he’s used to his dad levelling that out on the other side, but the only Queen here today is Will.
Well… for now, anyhow. Beth’s pretty sure the woman sitting in front of her is gonna be a Queen before too long. And the thought makes her nearly as giddy as the spray of water splashing her face and the rush of adrenaline as the raft pitches. She loves Amelia, loves how happy Will is with her and Beth is more than ready to interfere to make sure he stays that way.
“Even it out, guys!” the guide yells again from his spot in the back of the raft where he acts like a rudder, controlling their direction as best he can. He’s okay, but Beth’s had way better guides in the past. Including ones who realized she actually knows what she’s doing and used the correct terminology. Then again, maybe it’s not her the guide is dumbing things down for. There’s two other groups on their raft. A young couple with a guy who looks more than a bit terrified - Beth’s pretty sure his boyfriend dragged him on this excursion and it will be their last rafting experience together - and three twenty-something women who seem to have limited experience but the right attitude and focus.
Or… they have the right focus when they’re not blatantly checking out her brother.
How Italy, Germany, France, England and Russia would react if to the music "is Gay or European"?
Okay, the Admins actually burst into this song randomly all the time. Sooo yeah, fun fact! -Admins Jay and Sarah
England: “E-Excuse me?!” Arthur would be flustered at first before rolling his eyes and sighing as he blames Francis and the Macaroni Brothers…er…the Vargas brothers. He would point the song at them as soon as he heard it. It was their fault probably that it existed…Though he would just fix his shirt and scoff as Arthur denies anything to do with the song. He will not listen to it, play it and will most definitely not sing to it.
Germany: “I am European, yes. But gay?” Ludwig would be confused by the song at first. Though if he saw the scene that goes with it he would sigh before quietly mumbling “Lovino” under his breath. He knows that a tomato may be thrown at him, or he may be cursed up and down, but he wouldn’t be able to think of anyone else. Though whoever showed him the song would have to deal with him mumbling to himself that he is European but definitely not gay…
Italy: “Oh! I say ciao bella! And I kiss cheeks!” Feli would be so in love with the song, though the point of it would fly over his head. He would be dancing around to it and singing as he smiles brightly. He says those things! Dresses like that! Plays those sports! It had to be for him! Who was nice enough to write a song about him?
France: “Depending on the time of day, the French go either way!” Francis would love it, are you kidding me? First of all, it’s from a Musical that he loves and finds adorable, but it’s also so true! Of course, he would raise an eyebrow at whoever started playing it..but if it was already going, why not sing to it?
Russia: “Huh? Gay or European?.,’ Ivan wouldn’t be big on Musicals, especially if it was one like Legally Blonde…but why Gay or European?..Are they calling him Gay? Or European..He would be a bit confused..As long as it wasn’t directed toward him or someone forced him to dance, he would just ignore it.
The team of high ranking servants were gathered outside to meet Harry’s mother and sister. They were finally moving in; the head of the castle was to introduce them to the team, and show them around. But, Florence and Harry waited in the doorway, ready to receive them after everyone had been introduced.
Ok guys, here it is!! Chapter One of Nueva Vida by myself and my amazing sister from another mister, @codenamekaraortiz! It has been amazing writing this with you and I love ya girl!
The two Mayans shoved Juice into a cramped room, just off the main floor in the garage. Bikes were coming into the yard outside, and there was no telling who was riding them. The room was dark as the door was shut on him, and Juice began to panic. Slow, deep breathing, slow, deep breathing. Juice chanted to himself, keeping the attack at bay as he heard the roller door screeching it’s way up, many footsteps treading across the concrete ground. Juice put his ear to the door, trying to make out what was being said. The club was looking for him, that he knew. What he didn’t know was if the Mayans were about to give him up and sign his death warrant. The voices were muffled, but Juice could just make them out. “Alvarez.” “Teller.” The sounds of the men slapping each other on the back while embracing echoed in the room. “We got a problem.” “What can I do to help?” “Ortiz has gone missing. He been around these parts?” Juice froze, waiting for Alvarez to reply. “Not on my turf. We don’t keep rats around here.” Juice let out a breath, not realising he’d been holding it. He prayed silently that no one had heard him. “Alright, man. Can you let me or mine know if you see him?” “Sure thing.” Juice stood completely still, rooted to the spot. Alvarez hadn’t given him up. He heard the roller doors and the footsteps of his brothers leaving. The bikes distantly rumbled fading to nothing, and Juice rubbed his eyes. Maybe he would get out of this alive. Soon after, the door opened and two of Alvarez’s men came and brought Juice out to their president. They sat him on a stool, taking a step back as Alvarez approached Juice. “Don’t take what I did lightly, Ortiz. You might be a rat, but I am not.” Juice shut his eyes. He knew what he was, but someone saying it made it all the more real. “I’m showing you mercy because I believe you have the intel I need. I believe you because you are desperate to keep your life. So, one last chance to come clean. Do you have my intel?” Juice looked Alvarez in the eye. He had no choice now. The Sons would never let him explain this away, they were out for blood. And if he didn’t give Alvarez what he wanted, he would kill him, or hand him over to be killed. Juice knew there was a chance that Alvarez would turn him over once he got the intel, but it was a chance he had to take. If only he’d run when he had the chance. Slowly nodding, Alvarez took a seat across from him. Juice began to tell him everything he needed to know, swallowing hard to keep the bile from rising.
“Get up.” The boot nudging into Juice’s ribcage woke him from his light sleep. It had been three days since he’d gone full rat, and he was kept in the small dark room until Alvarez was happy with the intel, and he could get his papers ready. Or so Juice was hoping. The Mayan wake up call hauled Juice up from the ground, bringing him out to the garage. Everything was dark, but it was hard to tell if it was day or night, as all the windows were blacked out. “Your intel was good, Ortiz.” Alvarez was sitting on a chair, a smug grin on his face. “Now, we’re gonna kill you.” The little bit of hope that Juice was carrying burnt out instantly. He began to stumble backwards, but was caught by one of Alvarez’s men. Struggling against them, he was brought back before Alvarez. “Don’t panic, little rat. You’ll only be dead for a few minutes.” “What do you mean?” Juice rasped. “We’re pinning our little Sons disturbance on the Niners. I need to stay in the good graces of Prince Charming Teller for a while longer. Going to tell him we caught up with you, got rid of one of his problems for him. Take off your hoodie and lay down here.” Alvarez pointed to a drop sheet on the floor. Hesitantly, Juice lay down, letting the men position him. “You’re probably wondering why I don’t just kill you.” Alvarez monologued. “You took an oath to live or die for your club. You’ve shown you’re not a man of your word.” Juice cringed, those words hitting just as hard as the first time he was called a rat. “However, I am, and I gave you my word that I would get you out of here alive. This is just one more thing I’m taking away from Teller. And every time he loses, he loses trust in the club. Fortunately for you, his loss is your gain.” Juice felt something warm against his head. Turning his head slightly, one of the men was squirting out blood from a bag, spreading it out from his head. He heard the blood being splattered across the plastic, and felt some being placed on his head. “Now, lay still, look dead.” Alvarez said, taking out his phone. Juice did as he was told, as Alvarez took a photo of his lifeless corpse. “You make a good model.” He chuckled, Juice not able to find the humour. He was guilt ridden, but he couldn’t help this small, niggling feeling that this was the right thing. That somehow, he didn’t deserve to die. Standing up, Juice went to put his hoodie back on, but he was stopped. “Give me your kutte.” “What?” “We’re gonna send it back to Teller.” Juice paused. He didn’t need the kutte. That part of his life had died with him when he admitted to Nero what he had done to Darvany. He knew that he’d never be a part of SAMCRO, even when Jax had given the kutte back to him. The final straw came when Chibs had told him he was better off eating the barrel of his Nine. If Chibs had lost hope in him, there was no coming back. He pulled the vest over his shoulders, handing it to Alvarez. Putting on his jacket, he saw a flash of the reaper tattoo on his arm. He knew that he would need to get it covered, but that would wait until Mexico. “Take these. This is who you are now.” Juice took the papers, looking at the forged documents. “’Diego Martinez’.” Juice read. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.” Alvarez shrugged, shaking his head. “Don’t ever show up in America again. I’m not going to help you a second time.” Juice nodded, putting the documents down the front of his pants, hiding them underneath his hoodie. The roller door was pulled up, and a truck sat in the doorway, backed up with one door open. The signage on the side of the truck read “Morey’s Movers”, though Juice had a feeling the only moving the truck was apart of was that of moving people. “This is your ride. You’ll be taken to a house with a tunnel. You’ll go through the tunnel and come out in a diner in Baja. From there, you can set yourself up, live your life, do whatever.” Alvarez explained, walking Juice over to the truck. “These are your travel buddies. You’ll have a good few days to get to know each other, especially that one.” Alvarez pointed to the petite blond that Juice had sat himself next to. Juice looked from the girl to Alvarez, wondering what he was on about. “Meet Kara Martinez, you’re wife.” The door was shut and the last thing Juice saw before he was once again thrown into darkness was the amused look on Alvarez’s face. _______________________________________________________________________ Tagged for: @chaosmieu@khyharah@dolphingoddess81@marvelatbarnes@my-bitch-the-tacoma-killer @lilthingforhiddles @a-daydreamers-stories @mrstellerwinston @calumonoxide