raven napkins

title: how was i to know (i was far too much in love to see) (AO3 link)

summary: There’s a perfectly rational explanation as to why Clarke doesn’t like Bree and Bellamy has nothing to do with it. She’s mostly sure. 

A/N: This is mostly fluff and pining!Clarke. I love only ever writing, like, one kind of fanfiction!

Bree is not exactly hard to like. She’s smart, if a little lazy. Her jokes are inappropriate, but she’s charming enough to pull it off. In theory, she sounds like someone Clarke might actually like. But, there’s just something off about her. Clarke can’t like her. Not for a lack of trying, she’s looked at it from every angle. Clarke finds herself thinking about it a lot. It’s like staring at a painting that’s technically sound and still getting repulsed by it. It’s driving her insane.

But, Bree is Bellamy’s… something. She should, at least, figure out what she doesn’t like about her. He’s her best friend and she’s gotten along with most of his hook-ups. Though, she has to admit, none of them have hung around him this long.

The point is, once she understands why she doesn’t get along with his… whatever she is to him (because there absolutely has to be a reason for it), she might be able to look Bellamy in the eye again without feeling like she’s doing something wrong and just barely getting away with it.

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Essays in Existentialism: Bands II

more BAND.

Previously on Bands

one year later

The colours weren’t quite right. That was what Clarke understood as she peered at her painting with agitation burrowing in her neck. Her chin was covered with a stray brush bristling against her skin as she tapped it there. That usually happened when she was so busy thinking, she became clumsy, became covered in stray strokes of distracted agitation. Her hands were stiff with caked on colours that just weren’t quite right. She knew they weren’t, and yet she was stuck.

The noises in the hallway continued to grow as Clarke turned up the music on the radio. Her girlfriend’s voice began to lull her into a false sense of happiness. It only added to her displeasure though when she remembered this particular girlfriend was across the country. But she was on the radio, and that was magic. It wasn’t much, just the college radio station, but still. Some magic. Clarke was proud and refused to listen to anything else.

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anonymous asked:

I've seen a couple of BB fingering Rae in public. I love those! I find them slightly humorous. How about Rae giving BB a handjob or something in public/secret? He has to try to keep his cool or everyone will find out.

Sure! NSFW
- - -

He felt like everyone was staring

Honestly. They had to be staring at him. There were over a hundred highly reputable and important stares flicking from his flushed face, to his dinner, to Raven, and then back again. They had to know exactly what she was doing underneath the pristine, white tablecloth.

And it was not checking her phone.

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Don’t Let the Days Go By

December 31st, 2014.

Clarke: 0  Bellamy: 0

Sex (new conquest): five points.

Make out (new conquest): three points.

Threesome: ten points.

Sex (repeat): three points (void if actual relationship occurs)

Make out (repeat): two points (ditto)

Person with the most points on 12/31/15 wins $200 and the undying respect of the loser.

Bellamy Blake                  Clarke Griffin

12/31/14                       12/31/14

Clarke signed her name with a flourish and slapped the napkin down in front of Bellamy.  “Hope you’ve got $200 saved,” she taunted.

Bellamy tipped his rum and coke toward her.  “My only problem is going to be spending all of your money.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and scanned the crowded bar.  “We need a referee.  Someone impartial.  Hey!  Raven!”  She signaled to their friend who fought her way back to their table.

“What now?” Raven shouted over the music.

“We need your help.  Bellamy and I have a bet, and— ” Clarke started sliding the napkin toward Raven, but she shook her head and backed away.  

“Nope.  Nope-nope-nope.  Not getting involved.”

“But you don’t even know what it’s about,” Clarke whined.

“Don’t care.  I’m not getting involved in whatever creepy hypercompetitive foreplay you two have designed this time.”

Clarke made a face and Bellamy downed the rest of his drink.  “It’s not foreplay,” she argued.

“It really is,” Raven countered.  “So no.  Whatever this is, count me out.”  Clarke stuck her tongue out but Raven ignored her and elbowed her way back towards Wick.

Clarke swirled her gin and tonic and used that as an excuse not to make eye contact.  Things always got weird whenever their friends accused them of flirting, mostly because none of them knew about that night two years ago.  “Think we can handle this on our own?”

“Scout’s honor,” Bellamy replied with a mocking salute.  “When does this start?”

“Right now.  You’ll need every second of the next 365 days to beat me,” Clarke teased.

“You wish.  But if you’ll excuse me, princess, I have a bet to win.”  Bellamy hopped off the chair and made eye contact with a striking brunette, and with the tiniest of winks toward Clarke he headed off in her direction.  Clarke sighed and tipped back her gin and tonic, wincing slightly as the ice cubes crashed into her teeth.

There was no way she was going to lose this bet.

Read the rest on Ao3.  (Rated E, but not this chapter.  Sorry, but I swear–it does warrant an E.)

Special thanks to @bleedtoloveher and @kay-emm-gee for their input.

paul-mccartneys-eyelashes  asked:

Omg yes. HaruRin - Haru is eating at a restaurant, and Rin is his cute waiter.

Send me a three-sentence fic request~!

Rin flinches and yelps quietly when someone elbows him—hard—he turns around with a low hiss “the hell man..?!” he glares at the tall, dark haired barman, his asshole of a best friend. “It hurts jeez…” he grants and rubs the hurting spot.

Sousuke rolls his eyes, as amusing as it was, having Rin fuss near the bar with his obvious attempts to sneak glances into the hall really started getting on his nerves. “Stick your number into his fish.” He comments dryly. Deadpan or not—Rin knows when he’s being teased—so he just huffs and turns away, warmth spreading through his cheeks and all the way up to the tips of his ears.

So what if that guy is kind of cute? It’s no crime to look—right?

Rin takes a breath and slowly, ‘casually’, sneaks another look at the general direction of the guy he just took an order from. Pitch black hair, deep—impossibly fucking—deep blue eyes that made it hard to concentrate, Rin had to ask twice for what he wanted to drink (water, just water). The perfectly shaped nose and the pale, smooth looking skin along with those pinkish thin lips. Damn. The guy wasn’t cute. The guy was fucking handsome. And it didn’t end with his face—his body build was nice too—athletic almost. But more importantly….his hands… Sweet Jesus. His hands. Long and elegant fingers, nicely shaped fingernails—maybe he’s a pianist?

Honestly—Rin could barely care who the guy was—not when he’s so busy checking him out. He almost yelps again when Sousuke elbows him again, he’s about to tell Sousuke to mind his own business when he realizes that the guy’s order is ready. Well fuck. Well fuck fuck fuck. How come it’s ready so fast—? It’s never this fast. Or maybe he simply was too busy staring and didn’t notice the time passing. Well here goes nothing. He grabs the tray with the Mackerel—what an odd choice for a restaurant that is famous for it’s stakes—and walks to the little table near the window.

His heart is pounding loudly when he walks back. He did it! He fucking did it. He left his fucking number. Not in the fish like Sousuke offered—of course not. He wrote it on the napkin. Fuck. He really did. Will the guy notice it—? Fuck. Rin suddenly turns to stare at the table, wanting to rush and grab it—because who even said that he’s interested in guys? Oh gosh. He’d find it creepy. He surely will. That’s the end. That’s the worst day of his life. He crushes on the chair meant for the waiters and is about to bury his face into his hands when Sousuke calls him.

“Oi—your lover boy calls for you” Rin is on his feet in seconds, giving Sousuke a payback elbow as he walks back to the table. Fuck. That’s really it. He braces himself to be humiliated, pushing the corners of his lips into a smile and asking “Is there something I can help you with?” the quiet raven raises the napkin and quietly says that it was dirty. For a moment all Rin can think is that his voice is damn nice. Then he realizes what he said and his cheeks heats up all over “I’ll—“ he chokes a little, feeling his tummy tensing because of the disappointment, the number was meant for you, damn it. “—bring a new one right away!” he grabs the napkin with his number off the table, despite there being no need to do so and rushes away.

In the hurry of it all, he ended up pushing that stupid napkin into his pocket and only later, close to midnight, when he grabs it out of his pocket along with his keys he gives it a bitter look only to gasp with surprise.

It wasn’t his number

                      the number on the napkin wasn’t his.