#worst fucking phone camera in the cosmos

[plagueplanethq]

More work on my termies for 30k. Just a little clean-up left on the bronze trim, some silvery bits for the weapons and then they're ready for a wash bath!

So far I've been using Citadel paints for most of the armor, and Scale 7 for the bronze.

#deathguard #death guard #death guard 30k #horus heresy #the horus heresy #miniature painting #miniatures #miniature #games workshop #wh40k #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #worst fucking phone camera in the cosmos

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Falling From Grace- Part 2: Deleted Scenes

Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael have a prophecy to fulfill. They might not have always been Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael but they have always been brothers in the fight. Mythology!sos. Each guy is a God reincarnated from various mythologies. 

See the full story. 

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No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go.

_____________________________

He’s known the museum sitting there for years now. He’s just never step foot into it. Felt way too close to home knowing that statues of people he actually knows sit about. But Ashton walts in this time. It could be fun he figures. It’s not like anyone knows him, knows his connection. So with his hair tied back for the moment, Ashton pays admission and starts about the exhibits. Most of the place is way too pristine. The white walls look more like a hospital and it feels like one too but much less sorrowful. He keeps his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, restricting the yearning to touch some of the frames. 

He misses the frill, the extravagant gold accents on his usual robes. The frames are the closet he’s going to get right now. Ashton follows the line down before rounding the corner and finding him at the door of another exhibit. Busts line the walls and he grins to himself. He recognizes these faces, knows them all too well, even if they are in white marble. Some are chipped, the wear and tear of time never being the most merciful force in the universe. 

Ashton poses in front of the first statue, mimicking the facial expression. He sends the photo to the group chat. This guy was a dick. Or is a dick, still, I guess is more correct. He moves down to the second bust, pulling a face similar to the one sculpted. Less of a dick, he types, grinning to himself. He takes a photo with the last bust, furrowing his brows, and pulling down the corner of his lips. Less of a dick than the first two. Guy’s still not my favorite. 

A couple of minutes later his phone buzzes. Michael’s replied, I’m saving these for evidence. You’ve been warned. 

They hate me anyway, so good luck with that.

Damn it. Why do all the Greek Gods hate each other so fucking much?

Because we do. It’s our Brand™. 

Alright Meme Lord. 

Ashton chuckles, pocketing his phone. As he walks through the rest of the museum he ponders what else to do with the photos? Should they just sit forever in the groupchat? What’s the real harm in posting them? He doesn’t have to put a caption. If he’s going to live in this life then he’s going to live it to its fullest. 

As Ashton settles back onto the cushions of his house, he hovers over the post button. He’s had the pictures sitting for ages in the post. Nothing’s going to happen to him. The Gods aren’t going to smite him, for all their seriousness, humor is not lost on them. Just post it, he thinks to himself. It is not the end of the world. He’s all acquainted with how that goes. His thumb twitches, the posts loads before the screen changes. There, staring back up at him, is his own face next to faces he’s always seen in the flesh. 

Maybe it’s a bad idea. Panic starts to hits his chest. His phone buzzes. It’s Calum. I know you, mate. Saw the photos. They’re funny. Don’t worry. Ashton starts to draft his response, tell them how he needs to delete the photos before another messages comes in. If you delete them, it’s more suspicious. Leave them be. We are human right now. What’s the point of having this humanity and not using it.

Calum is right. Ashton exhales, deleting all the panicked message and replacing it with a simple, Thanks. 

_________

Michael finds himself as the next one in a museum. This time not as accidental as Ashton’s trip. He decided to go out for the day, see some sights, to get away. They need a break. Recording and writing, more writing, more recording. He just wants to shut his brain off for a moment, just enjoy his time while it’s still mostly his. As he’s walking through the exhibits, awestruck by the use of colors and the line work that’s still incorporated into the final details of the piece, he jokingly poses in front of some pieces. He’s only doing it for the jokes, the giggle behind the camera. 

But at the conclusion of his journey through art, he realizes that some of those poses were pretty spot on. He posts the set of recreations with the caption, Immerse yourself. Become art. He wants to add more. You are art. Everyone is art. Everything is art. There’s an art in just existing, in just breathing when everything feels like it’s telling you not to breathe, to not exist. However he figures it best to stay positive, to keep it light and funny. He’s becoming art and that reminds him, even in all the struggle of making this album he still has a duty to himself. 

So he leaves it at just that. Become art. Becoming is the best part of existence. He can become anyone. He can become anything, even if in some ways he is still restricted by another’s diction. He will always becoming something in this human form. He hopes he never stops becoming either, even in the old age when bones are more brittle. 

__ Everyone’s buzzing about Marvel. It’s always somewhere in the corners of the internet the correct way to watch the movies. Calum’s never been one to delve head first into this. But Michael enjoys it and rather than tune out his friend’s interest, he suspends all he knows and finds the action scenes and the comradery admirable. Even if people are robots made out of blue scraps, and someone’s a purple giant, and there’s two green people. But only one’s technically the alien and the other deems himself an abomination.

It’s not very amusing when the interviewer jokes about potentially spoiling the movie. Calum can tell Michael’s a little on edge. So he jokes, “Is Spiderman in it?”

“Yeah, I haven’t even watched the trailer because I don’t wanna spoil it,” Michael replies, looking down at the slight furrowed brow of the brown man slouched, picking at his nails. 

“Is Spiderman in it?” Ashton echoes. 

Calum speaks up again, “Is it Toby?” HIs face in deadpanned. He knows Michael will think he is serious. 

Michael for a second is shocked, voice dripping with disbelief. “What? No.” He watches the very faint smile that overtakes Calum’s face and then laughs. Of course Calum would ask that. He knows it’s not Toby but it got a chuckle out of Michael. 

Calum faces forward, staring directly into the camera, like in The Office. Not too many people will catch onto the joke, the play that just happened. But it’s fine. It’s for Michael anyway. The stab about spoilers wasn’t funny to anyone and rather than let that tension grow, Calum knew he had to break it somehow. This then spurs Ashton onto a rant about how Toby is better. 

Calum interjects, mostly at Michael, “I like Tom, but I like Toby more.”

Later on, after all the interviews are done, they settle into the dark of the theater. They laugh, they gasp, they admittedly cry. Though it only maybe only a couple of tears and no one would admit it, it’s still a shock. Calum pulls out his phone, Why is Gamora? He decides to focus on the positive, on the laughs. Though the question itself is still a very valid one. Why is anyone? Why the question purpose, and sometimes the most difficult one to ask. Why anything? Why the four of them? Why is it so humid in Singapore? The t-shirt, that Calum figured would be thin enough, does not provide much circulation. His pits feel like a swamp, the leather to the couch they’ve been sat on for the last two days takes no prisoners either. 

Calum has learned, however, that he can question why until he turns blue in the face? He could analyze every interaction, every word in existence and it would still only lead him to more questions. He doesn’t let that stop him from question some things but he tries not to question too many things. There is some, while it is scary, serenity in knowing that one does not have all the answers. He is allowed to question Why is Gamora and it is nothing more than a funny piece of dialogue from a widely accepted heart wrenching movie and it will provide answers of its own accord, at its own pace. All he simply must do is walk into a dark theater. 

________

“So we can see, Calum out there has had a long day,” Luke starts, shirtless, watching out onto the balcony where Calum, “on the treacherous waters.”

“He was fishing for Tilapia,” Ashton interjects. 

“Catch Calum on the newest season of Deadliest Catch,” Luke concludes. He doesn’t find himself to be the funniest guy, but every so often he likes to get in a joke. 

Ashton opens the door, “You okay, buddy?” Calum’s earnest glance back makes all three men laugh on camera, including a small chuckle from Andy, who’s behind the camera. It makes Luke happy, that just for a moment, they aren’t too serious. Even though this is work, steaming his voice before a show, and he’s currently unsure of what he’s going to wear tonight, there is some play. 

Later on, after the adventure in Cream Soda, venturing down the dark streets, Luke pulls Michael to the back of the group for an ‘interview’. It quickly goes down south. They continue on down the street. The saying all work and no play makes Jack dull is right. So they make sure to have fun, even if it’s in the backseat of the car, shakily hitting a falsetto about Shake Shack. It reminds them all, but Luke especially to try and shake the bad times off. 

The whole year creating the album broke, and maybe in some ways, created chains and burdens. Expectations is the worst thing they’ve ever faced. They’re always expected to restore balance to the cosmos. That is an old cross they bear. But it is strange now to be so far into the limelight, to be told that they are expected to work almost endlessly day in and day out without allowing themselves the truth of the situation. They grow tired. They grow weary. 

They sing in falsetto though. They make sure to have these small moments to be strange and to be weird to remind themselves they are bound to humanness. They are not exempt from doubt even with the expectation to be superheros in the eye of the music world, even though they know normally they are able in deity form do miracles things, that are incredibly human right now. And it’s okay to have this tender moments. They’ve earned them. 

#calum hood #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #michael cliffford #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings imagine #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin fic #michael clifford fanfic #michael clifford fic #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #h writes

[alitheamateur]

The Grind: A Wedding

A/N: I’m unsure of how many parts it will take to cover everything I want include in this most anticipated story of nuptials for our cherished Liv, and Colton. But, I do hope you relish in part one. I love you, all! This process will be written, obviously. But, lots of pictures will be included, creating some sort of a photo album for you, as well. *I do not own any images you see*

Warnings: Language.

June bride. It always sounded so… so, Cosmo. So, cliché, and posh. So typical. And so no me. And oh yet, here we are. The sunny Saturday of June 22nd. Finalizing the last pins to my loose, naturally blonde hair. Colton’s only requests for that day including the blonde. And the down-styling. And the chocolate cake which I think he somehow requested because he knew it was my favorite. 

Things were elegant, and still understated. There was not to be a single sequin, or rhinestone. The only beads permissible were pearls, and that was only if extremely necessary. My boycott against bedazzle made the dress shopping a nightmare, as it seems this generation prefers all the sparkle. But in the hands of Tia, who can weasel and tantrum her way into situation, I found the most perfect cut of silk in Pittsburgh. My mother ground her teeth a little. The back hung low, flowing down the airbrushed bronze of my spine. The lush shine of the material cuddled, and stretched around the swell of my bottom, and a slit climbed my left thigh. I was reluctant about it. My scar from the frightful skiing incident of 2010 was on full display, marked horizontally along the meaty flesh of my upper thigh. 

“If that asshole won’t marry you, damn it, I will, LC.” Tia sniffed as I met her eyes in the full-length reflection of the mirror.

Even on my wedding day, still posing up a good threat to snag me away from my groom.

“You look… you look phenomenal, Liv, dear. I can’t wait for him to see you.” Sweet Beth gracefully dotted away the salty residue from the full tears marking down her cheeks, as she daydreamed about her sons soon nuptials.

I squirmed at the foreshadow of Colton’s inappropriate groans and beady glances once he saw me in my dress. The dress. The one I never would’ve imagined I would try on in a private dressing room, much less parade in front of a crowd full of snapping cameras. But, love gives a girl some bold bravery, it seems. The sensual dip of the snug gown would be worth the raise of conservative brows in attendance once I saw Colt’s intrusive eyes turn black with the burying of his desires.

My mother strapped me into the buckle of my heel while Andrew snapped a few intimate snapshots of the moment on my phone. He was a member of Colton’s groomsman squad, but he’d spent a chunk of the day prepping at my side, and relishing in the bliss to come. 

“Have you heard his vows, Drew? I mean, did he have you like, proof them or something?” I searched my clutch the folded note of worn paper where my own vows were scribbled down, and handed them to Sara for safe keeping until time.

“By proof them, do you mean have I checked to make sure they aren’t loaded with expletives?” He brought over my bouquet as I stood to finalize the approval of my reflection before my solo photos around the archway outside. “Yes, Liv. I read them. And that’s all you’re getting.” He sealed his mouth, and threw away the insinuated key.

I barely recognized the penetrative gazes of the woman staring back at me. My jaw was held at a confident angle, eyes lined thick with tasteful faux lashes, and hips slightly swelled with the weight of womanhood and true love. Colton had changed me in every way that made me better, before I even knew exactly who I thought I wanted to become. His many a kiss, countless moonlight confessions wrapped in the sheet of the bed we shared, and simply the way he watched me take my first morning sip of coffee constituted everything my naïve soul needed to recognize love in its most intimate state. I couldn’t wait to touch him in his suit at the altar. To let him still the trembling of my hands as we exchanged rings, and seal what I already felt with our first kiss as man, and wife.

Sara gently interrupted your thoughts, stuffing a dainty pink handkerchief into your clutches around your bouquet. 

“Because I know you’re going to need this. And, because I know for a fact you’ve forgotten your something borrowed. I used it on my wedding day.” She kissed my cheek.

I wouldn’t have married Colton on this day, the day of his choosing, if Sara couldn’t have been here. I adored my Tia, and Drew, and each other person who was here with me in this adopted home of Pittsbugh. But my wedding day, the only one I know I’ll ever have, I needed my Sara to hold me in a moment just as this one.

A rattling tap echoed from the other side of the heavy oak door, capturing the attention of every eye in the room.

“Liv?”

Colton.

“Liv, baby? You in there?”

My face fell with haunting nerves, and Tia ran for the knob to answer his faint callings from the hallway.

“He can’t see me, Tia. No way! Don’t think of letting him in here.” I ordered.

“Relax, will you? I’m going to step outside with him, okay?”

Tia barely opened the door into a crack large enough for a toddler to squeeze through, and disappeared. I worked my busy hands at the ribbon flowing from the stems of my peony bouquet, scolding myself for even considering the worst reason for his unexpected visit.

I held my breath when she re-entered the overly crowded dressing area, purposely holding back her smile longer than necessary.

“He said he just wanted to hear your voice. That’s it. And only from behind the door, of course.”

Tia, and my mother ushered my prep team toward the reception area to check out the final touches, giving Colt and I a moment of solace, and a deep breath after the bustle of wedding day jitters. When the last person escaped, I wiped the sweat from my palm, and turned the door handle, carefully standing far away from the minimal crack.

Just as my fingers peeled around the door, I felt the familiar heat of his rough-skinned fingers grasping perilously for mine.

“Fuck, I needed this.” He moaned satisfactorily, and my side of the door bounced back towards me as he fell onto it from the opposite side. My touch alone fed his nervous withdraws from being apart for only two days. “I needed you. Just for a minute, at least.”

I played with his fingertips.

“Someone isn’t getting cold feet, are they?”

I could hear the tap of his black dress shoes we had bought last week for the occasion.

“Well, Drew had to talk me off the ledge a couple hours ago.”

I froze, and my bones nearly calcified into fossisl with the stillness his sentence bought over me.

“Woah. Hey, I’m only kiddin’, Livvy. Breath, baby. It was just a joke. Clearly, a poor timed one.”

Colton kissed the solo ring on my finger, staking his claim. “You ain’t gettin’ rid of my ass that easily.”

I wanted to kiss him. Those minty lips, now probably stained with a celebratory shot of whiskey were the only things my consciousness would focus on.

Maybe if we both closed our eyes first, then touched lips for just 2 seconds?

“How dedicated are you to this whole ‘no seeing each other thing’?” I thought out loud, Colton took the question as one directed at him.

“Trust me, angel. I’d give absolutely anything to see you right now. See how amazin’ I know you look, as usual. But, I think we both know you’d instantly regret breakin’ that little tradition you were so persistent about.”

He was right. I had just enough Indiana in me to keep hold of those age-old small-town traditions like not seeing your groom before the ceremony. And first dances, and flower girls.

“But, since I’m here, how about we go ahead and trade letters? I know Drew was going to do the swap for us, but I’ve got mine me if that’s cool with you?”

What a difference time can grace upon us.

I mentioned one evening, months ago, scrolling through websites while doing some planning, how I thought the idea of writing letters to each other was such a touching sentiment. Never expecting another word, much less even an initial response from my stoic, silent man. But, to my much pleasing surprise, Colton simply agreed with an “okay,” never the slightest inkling of protest in his voice. Love had done a number on this bitter, complicated man, too. A hard one. And it suited him mind, body, and soul.

“Yes, but under one condition?” I parted towards to counter to find my own letter addressed to him.

“Name it.”

“I don’t want you to read it until you’re back in your room.”

I slid the sealed envelope into his hand, holding my palm upward for his.

“I love you, Liv. I am so fucking crazy in love with you.” Colton whispered, almost breathlessly.

“I love you, you handsome brute. Now, go. Before I ruin what little makeup I still have left.” 

I didn’t latch the door until his footsteps were no longer detectable, not wanting to miss the sounds of his closeness to me. Seated on the antique velvet of the elegant armchair at the foot of the bed, I delicately tore open the letter.

Liv,

You marvelous creature. You are a necessary electricity that shocks my heart to life every single day that I’m near you. My spirit is broken, and it’s only fucking hope is in your hands. Thank you for taking my hand, and warming me with your irreplaceable light. Naturally, we both know I’m not a verbal man, but it seems in writing you this letter, I may have found my newest, most favorite way to try and express how I feel about you. Nothing about you loving me makes sense, but it’s one mystery wave that I will ride until there is no life left in me with no questions asked. Yours is the only hand I want to hold, and get lost in the swell of life with, laughing, crying, and standing still along the way when need be. This day, the day you foolishly take my name as your own, and vow to be my wife will surely be the most precious day I have lived. Only second to the moment I met you.  I swear, when I’m with you, it’s like the air tastes better, even. You have stroked my ego like a vicious woman in love, and you’ve stomped it out when I needed the harshest of reality checks, just as I deserved. I hope as long as you’ll have me, I can be the solace you need in the most troubling of days. And the strong tower you need when you feel scared or threatened. I’ll be the laugh when you’ve seemed to have misplaced your own, and the tears when yours don’t seem to satisfy whatever grief falls on you. Always, Livvy. It’s you. You and me, against the strongest of odds, we will come out on top. Can’t wait to see you. Soon. You know where to meet me.

I love you.

Colton

Waterproof mascara was a myth, whipped into a lie at the hands of Colton Ritter and his hidden talents with a pen and paper. I read his confessions three times, memorizing it like it was a secret that I was afraid would be torn away within minutes. All along, I’ve been the one in our household staking a claim to literary topics, and standing on my platform as an English major. But this, the handwritten romance of his raw admissions, blew me away, along with every mediocre talent I thought I wielded. Someone I had foolishly often discredited as “simple” or “distant”, had force-fed me to eat the sour swallow of “crow”, penning words that probably belonged alongside the most magical of love letters through fictional history.  In my opinion, anyhow. Not the that object of the affections in said letter would be biased in the least.

. . .

Colton

I obeyed her commands, as I usually do. Happily. And waited until I was seated at the bar in my suite across the grounds from her before opening the letter. I wanted to drag her up the courthouse steps long over 6 months ago, but this place wasn’t so bad. Like it would be, with her taste. I even liked it, actually. I’d never tell Liv though, and have her thinking for a minute that any of this exhausting, unnecessary, wedding shit mattered to me. I would’ve married her in our living room with Mac ordained if I thought she wouldn’t have minded. But, I adore her. More than any should adore another human, truthfully. And I knew this day, with all the people she loves in attanedance, is what her heart needed. So, I shut my fucking mouth, and smile when I’m told like a good husband would. But, I’m not wearing those damn cufflinks. She’ll have to harass me for that one later, and I’ll ask forgiveness. Or, distract her with my mouth the way she likes so much.

I drank down another shot of the aged brown liquor, sucking in its warm after bite between my teeth as I opened the neatly sealed envelope she marked with my name.

 Colt,

The mightiest of men could never steal my love for you. To most, your eyes may be the darkest, most dangerous pools of heartache and pain. But I only see the glow of a man who the world just doesn’t deserve to know. Whatever I have needed you to be, you have truly surpassed any responsibility as the man I love, and my heart shouts a thousand words of gratitude. You kickstarted the first pangs of real love within me, and sometimes I foolishly believe that there aren’t two people in the entire world who share as much love as you and I. The weight of your hand within mine is the only courage I have ever felt, and it somehow seems my most insatiable moments of weakness are both caused, and cured only by you. You’ve respected me as your equal, never pointing out my many flaws as a failed strong woman, and secured my every longing for my destined lover, and companion. I never truly believed in any definition of eternity, until I woke up one morning without you by my side and realized I never wanted to live another day without you in it. You have believed in me, encouraged me, and monumentally coached me. In the ring, and in life, I find that we are a team fit for whatever battle seems to threaten us, destined to come out victoriously hand-in-hand. I know you will only do justice to your newly deemed titles of husband….. and daddy

Surprise, my love.

-L

Did she know what she was saying? Was this some sort of reference to the future that I wasn’t understanding? Was she applying that term as some sort of kinky slang that people use these days? It was like my mind told me I should freeze, and clam up with horrified dread at Liv’s very, very unplanned spilling surprise. But yet, as I read the word again silently to myself, then again, aloud, this time, my pulse never quickened with fear. I didn’t feel like shattering this fucking glass of bourbon against the brink of the bar where I sat alone. I couldn’t even squander up the slightest glimmer of resentment at the birth-control of hers that had apparently faltered.

Daddy. Dad. Pop.

My feelings only went directly into running over all the things I’d want he… or she to call me. And all the ways I’d hear it fall from Liv’s sinfully pink lips when she spoke to the little runt about me. Would she let me use my name if it was a boy? Could I take her to the gym with me unsupervised while Liv was working, even though it was probably no place for a little girl?

The itch my skin felt already from feigning for the feel of her touch, and needing her to fill the void between my embracing arms enlarged to a dull ache now. I woke this morning already drunk, knowing for a fact I hadn’t had a single drop of liquor, simply from the joy of knowing I would finally make an honest woman out of her today. And now, I could feel my heart crawling and leaping and vibrating with gladness like I never imagined humanly possible. For a once worthless fucker like me, especially.

A tear dolloped onto the ink of her swirly handwriting, and my toes curled inside these leather vices around my feet. I hadn’t cried like this since I broke my first knuckle when I was 16. But ever since Liv had waltzed her way into my life, it seemed tears were becoming a familiar foe of mine.

“You read the letter?”

“Shit!” I shook and sniffled, whipping round to see Andrew arming into his suit jacket.

“Yeah. Yeah… I uh, I read it.” Andrew was one of the only friends I really ever allow myself to smile with.

“You are one lucky man, Colton Ritter. You better know that. As if Liv wasn’t enough of a gift, now….”

“You knew? This whole time, you knew?”

He grinned. “Guilty. But you’re not allowed to hit me and stain the tux.”

I stood, dismissing myself from the stool, and carefully folding the fateful paper into my pocket. “How far along is she, Drew? When did she find out?”

Drew shook his head like I knew he would. “You know you need to hear all that from her, man. I can’t ruin that for you guys.”

He was indeed right. I wanted to watch her snub back tears as she told me about the tests I’m sure she had taken behind my obviously inattentive back. I envisioned in my mind the way her eyes would get all glassy and wide when I hugged her belly and told her I loved her more than life, and I would kill for her if it ever came to that.

“Half hour till showtime, Colt. Look alive.”

TAGS: @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @miidailyinspiration @littleluna98

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tomhardyfanfic #tom hardy fanfiction #tomhardyfanfiction #Elizabeth Olsen #thegrind

[youleftme-clarke]

favorite bellarke smut fics?

Everything below the cut is rated M or E

Double Shot 6,653 words

Clarke and Bellamy have a romantic getaway, and take advantage of the scenery. 

“We’re a package deal, you might say. I like to share, and she likes… attention.”

Phone a Friend 7,149 words

Clarke does not ask Bellamy for tips on having a threesome because she’s hoping to have a threesome with him. He’s just the only person she knows personally who has actually had a threesome, so he seems like her best resource.

And when the opportunity to have a threesome with him presents itself, it’s not like she’s going to just say no.

Just Another Graceless Night 8,785 words

Clarke Griffin is the newest member of the Alternative Rock band, The Delinquents , but in the band they have one (1) rule:

“Everyone hates Bellamy Blake.”

Of course, Clarke didn’t know this when she slept with him… That complicates things a bit.

stumbling upon cosmos 4,427 words

clarke and bell meet at a masquerade party

“They’re at a function for the police department, and Clarke can’t help but think she probably has one of Ark’s finest kissing up her thighs, even though she doesn’t recognize him, mask or not.”

or, the one where clarke is octavia’s co-worker and a blake family bbq gets a little awkward

Check Me Out 2,858 words

Clarke didn’t think she had a particular thing for hot librarians or anything. But she’s got a thing for Bellamy, who’s definitely hot and definitely a librarian, so she can’t really deny it.

Sugar, Let Me Be Your Passenger 39,395 words. 

**I can’t even put into words how much I adore this fic!**

“Don’t you think there should be some cosmic rule,” Clarke says, leaning back against the counter as well and contemplating her glass. “That when you suffer through a bad date, the world owes you a blow job?”

Bellamy chokes on his wine, and Clarke helpfully pats him on the back as he splutters. “Jesus, Clarke. Warn a guy.”

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Clarke laughs. “Wouldn’t that be the ultimate?”

“Well, sure,” Bellamy says, a little flustered. “Cosmically owed orgasms sound like a pretty good deal to me. There’s just the small catch that most bad dates don’t lead to sex.”

a piece of ice held fast in the fist 9,108 words

Clarke’s graduating in two months, so she’s not looking for a relationship. Not that she was looking for a relationship before, but now she’s really not looking.

But, honestly. Bellamy’s just so hot.

In Her Web She Still Delights 142,480 words

When the Jahas and Griffins take a summer trip to London for a medical conference, they leave Clarke home alone in L.A. Senior year is approaching, and she needs to get her grades in history up if she will have any chance of getting into one of the Ivies. Being separated from her boyfriend Wells is the absolute worst. Well, no. Maybe her condescending tutor who both scares and excites her wins that award.

The one where Bellamy Blake is Jake Griffin’s teaching assistant in world history at UCLA and finds himself maddeningly drawn to his boss’ daughter.

Challenge Accepted 30,801 words

**I adore this fic and its author more than you can ever imagine!**

He doesn’t even like Clarke Griffin, he’s pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone.

“You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.”

As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop.

“Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?”

And he’s never backed down from a challenge in his life.

Write What You Know 13,929 words

Bellamy understands every individual choice that got him to this point. He started writing erotica to make some extra money, he didn’t correct the assumption that he was a woman, made up some facts about his new persona, and now his publisher wants him to start making public appearances, so he needs someone to be that persona. And Clarke really is the logical choice.

It all makes sense to him, when he thinks about it, but he will admit it is incredibly weird. Luckily, Clarke’s still got his back.

Now I’m Addicted 9,951 words

Clarke loves her boyfriend, honestly. She just can’t seem to stop cheating on him with Bellamy Blake.

And They’ll Hang Us In The Louvre 5,129 words

“Well I mean, I can always give you a hand. If you want.”

By the time her brain has managed to catch up with what she just said, his eyes have already snapped over to her and she pretends to be engrossed in the salt slowly dissolving around the rim of her margarita.

“Really,” he says flat.

“What are friends for, am I right?” she says breezily, looking anywhere but at him.

or, Clarke is only doing this to help him. Really.

lights, camera, action 6,035 words

The barista won’t stop staring at Clarke.-Clarke’s a camgirl to pay for college, and Bellamy’s a loyal viewer. They meet, they date, they fuck.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fanfic #bellarke smut #fic rec #youleftme clarke

[aerialsquid]

“What the Fuck is Wrong With You”, DC Edition

After a long break I provide you with the further adventures of our favorite Youtube chroniclers of idiocy in a world of capes and jetpack apes. Earlier segments can be found here and here, those wanting to see the actual show can go here.

———

[Open on a split-screen. On one side we see NASH, the host of Radio Dead Air, sitting in a computer chair. He is finishing an e-cigarette. The other side shows TARA, the Mare of the River, Leader of the Hippo Lantern Corps, seated in a large purple chair in front of several large shelves of beakers, vials, and bizarre plants. TARA is cradling DOTTY, a chubby, hairless creature that appears to hold the qualities of cat and hippo in equal measure. ]

TARA: So I heard Grady went on an adventure this week.

NASH: Supposedly. Space Guy showed up, said he needed Grady’s assistance to maintain the balance of the cosmos, and then teleported out.

TARA: Why do you keep letting him do this?

NASH: Means I don’t have to deal with the little bastard for a few days. We don’t have any major supervillains featured on the show this week, so he must be doing something right.

TARA: You’d never catch my kitties maintaining the cosmos.

A VOICE, OFFSCREEN: They’d probably try to eat it.

[Long-time listeners will of course recognize this as THE INVISIBLE DAN, Tara’s partner in crime turned partner in other matters, who resides in a dimensional alignment that renders him undetectable by cameras.]

NASH: Tara, you don’t have kitties, you have genetically modified hippos. You have abominations against God and his creation.

TARA: I won’t hear you say a word against my precious kitty babies.

[TARA firmly cuddles DOTTY. DOTTY makes a horrific rumbling yowl and presents her butt to the camera.]

NASH: Speaking of abominations, let’s get started with the nonsense.

[Patsy Cline’s ‘Crazy’ plays as the split-screen displays the show’s title card.]

NASH: Each week, Catherine and the Radio Dead Air audience go out on the multiversial internet, find all sorts of terrible things, bring them on back for a little segment we like to call “What the Fuck is Wrong With You”. So, Tara. Are you familiar with the phrase ‘cape chaser’?

TARA: Is that like a storm chaser?

NASH: Not unless you want to put your dick in the storm. A cape chaser is basically someone who has a fetish for superheroes. It’s like a sexy cop fetish, except instead of a cop putting you in handcuffs it’s  Zatanna or Hawkman.

TARA: …huh.

NASH: And, you know what, that’s fine. If you and a consenting legal-aged partner want to play Superfriends with each other in bed, that’s great. Just don’t be this guy.

TARA: Does that mean there are supervillain fetishizers? Are there people out there who really want to bang Mr. Freeze?

NASH: If there’s one thing we’ve learned on this show, it’s that everything is a fetish if you try hard enough. Unfortunately this guy wasn’t trying hard enough. From North Carolina, “Man Who Ordered ‘Sexy Batgirl’ Prostitute Arrested by Actual Batgirl”.

TARA: Well, that’s definitely some good method acting there.

NASH: –okay, who wrote this. “This is why you always check under the hood.” Mr. Olson, go to your corner. Go. You’re in journalism time out now. “A Bludhaven man wanted for drug trafficking, assault, and attempted murder eluded capture for several months, until he was tripped up by a completely different vice. Harrison Marshall, age 46, allegedly called an escort service Wednesday night to a hotel in Asheville, North Carolina and put in a request for a woman to come to his hotel room dressed as Batgirl, with the assumption she would then provide sexual services. However, an anonymous tip meant that the woman who showed up at his hotel several hours later was not a prostitute, but the actual Gotham-based vigilante. When Marshall became aware of the situation he attempted to flee and was apprehended by Batgirl who then notified the Asheville Police Department to take him into custody.”

TARA: If you’re on the run from the law, why would you want to hook up with a superhero?

NASH: Some kind of punishment fetish thing? It doesn’t say exactly what services he requested, which bear in mind I’m deeply grateful for.

TARA: Actually, I bet this makes superhero lives easier. You show up to a bachelor party or a Halloween party dressed as your alter go, and when shit goes down you’re already all geared up. Maybe you even get a low quality Party City mask to throw people off the scent.

NASH: Pretty sure we used that excuse back when we were doing the Vampire: The Masquerade LARPs, too. ‘Oh no, I’m not a vampire, I’m just coming back from a costume party and this is extremely realistic fake blood on me’.

TARA: It would make a great way to rob someone.

NASH: Why does it always come back to crime with you?

TARA: A rich asshole puts in an order for a sexy Harley Quinn stripper, Harley Quinn shows up. He probably thinks her beating him up is part of the show, and then she robs his safe.

NASH: Also this part makes it worse. “In addition to his preexisting charges Marshall was also charged with soliciting a prostitute. Police are considering adding solicitation of a minor, but since Batgirl has never disclosed her age publicly and Marshall’s phone call only specified that the prostitute ‘look like her twin’, the charge may not be brought.”

TARA: Oh, crap. She’s like sixteen, isn’t she?

NASH: No idea, but if we can’t tell and he can’t tell I’m going to go ahead and say he’s the kind of guy who needs to stay 100 feet from high schools at all times.

TARA: Ewwwww…

NASH: Staying on the topic of fake spandex brigade but moving away from solicitation of minors, we have yet another appearances of the world’s worst supervillain: Central City Man.

TARA: Dan’s got this theory that all the Central City Men are actually the same man from alternate universes, and the reason they’re all complete morons is that they don’t know how our society works.

NASH: I’m opposed to any theory that lets Central City Man off the hook. 

#radio dead air #batgirl #basically central city man is this AU's version of #florida man #WTFIWWY

[naireides]

The Anatomy of a Blowjob

please place all blame squarely on the shoulders of @caramelkru WHERE IT BELONGS

rated M read on ao3 here

If there’s anything Bellamy has learnt in all his years of life, it’s that the more alcohol someone puts into his friends, the more ridiculous the texts they send him are.

For example, one time Miller messaged him at half one in the morning asking him if he knew where he could find breadfruit because it was ‘super important’. Another time Murphy sent him the entire Bee movie script, which resulted in his number being blocked for at least a month.

Honestly, those aren’t even the worst of it.

Tonight, he’s decided to stay home, so he’s expecting the usual barrage of texts, as well as a slurred phone call around 1am from someone asking if they can either crash on his couch, or for a drop home.

Sometime after nine, his phone buzzes, and he’s halfway through getting ready to tell Octavia that no, he can’t spare a few hours to come hang when he has a veritable mountain of grading to trudge through, but stops short when he sees that it’s Clarke.

[9:24pm] Clarke: are giving blowjobs like riding a bike???

[9:24pm] Clarke: as in, you never forget how to do it no matter how long it’s been??

His phone doesn’t quite slip out of his hand when he reads it, but comes startlingly close to, and he finds himself fumbling to keep it within his grip, accidentally opening his camera in the process. Meanwhile, the pen cap he was gnawing on while marking essays falls out of his mouth.

The text is still there by the time he rights himself and gets back to his messages, and he fucking pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

Finally, he manages to gather his bearings long enough to type back,

[9:28pm] Bellamy: How the fuck am I supposed to know???

He’s still staring dumbfounded at his phone, trying to wrap his around all of this, by the time she replies, sending several texts in quick succession.

[9:30pm] Clarke: because you’re the only other mga person in our friend group

[9:30pm] Clarke: well, besides raven, but she only ever dated guys before luna and idk luna that well to ask her about this

[9:30pm] Clarke: but you’ve only hooked up with girls for a while before hooking up with a guy right?

[9:30pm] Clarke: so like, was it hard??

[9:30pm] Clarke: pun intended lmao

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs, after reading over all of that five times just to make sure he was seeing this right. He scrubs a hand down his face, knocking his glasses askew.

[9:32pm] Bellamy: Is this necessary right now?

[9:32pm] Clarke: YES

[9:32pm] Clarke: THE FATE OF MY HOOK UP HANGS IN THE BALANCE

Something twists deep in his stomach when she mentions her hook up, and he sighs again, pushing away his stack of essays before standing up to grab a beer from the fridge, figuring it was time for a break. He cracks it open on a drawer handle and downs half of it before picking his phone up off the counter to finally reply to her.

[9:39pm] Bellamy: I don’t know, I was maybe out of practice for a little bit, but it didn’t matter that much.

[9:39pm] Bellamy: Besides, you’re a hot blonde. I doubt you’re gonna have too much trouble getting someone off. Especially someone with a dick. Dicks are the easiest thing ever.

He doesn’t exactly mean to send the last message, especially not when it sounds half passive aggressive and half wistful, but he does, and when she doesn’t reply immediately like she’s been doing all night, Bellamy is just about ready to google ‘how to delete sent text.’

Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because as soon as he pulls up his browser app, his phone is vibrating with an incoming message.

[9:41pm] Clarke: good point thanks!! xx

It’s the clear end of the conversation, and Bellamy stares at the entire thread until his screen goes black before downing the rest of his beer and heading back to the living room.

The uncomfortable weight that has settled at the bottom of his stomach ever since she mentioned finding a hookup remains, and he tries his best it to ignore it, focusing instead on the pile of essays he has remaining. She doesn’t message him again for the rest of the night, and he tries not to think about it.

Bellamy has known Clarke for more than a few years now, and while they didn’t start off as friends, they grew into it, slowly moving from snapping at each other for every little thing, to biting back grins and shared inside jokes. Not to mention that he’s about halfway in love with her at this point, but he rather ignore that thought. His life is much easier when he doesn’t think about what a total cliché he’s become.

Still, despite all of this, he and Clarke aren’t exactly the types to talk about their sex lives which made last Friday’s text thread more than a little bit strange.

It gets even stranger when he sees her at Octavia’s the next night, and she plops down on the sofa next to him with, “So, blowjobs,” in greeting.

He lifts a single eyebrow as he regards her. “Hi Clarke, how was your day? Mine was fine, thanks for asking,” he says, flat. “Manners are a wondrous thing.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, sneaking a sip of his beer. “Ugh, god, fine; hi Bellamy, glad your day was good, so was mine, now back to the topic at hand: blowjobs.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you have a one track mind?”

“I prefer the term ‘refusing to beat around the bush.’”

“More like stubborn little princess,” he quips fondly, and she pulls a face.

“You’re deflecting,” she says in a singsong voice, nudging him with her shoulder, “Do you deflect this much when your students ask you questions?”

“No, because my students don’t ask me sexually explicit questions. Surprisingly, they know better than that.”

“Come on Bellamy, help a girl out. I need to prove my hypothesis.”

He places his bottle on the table with a definitive thud, wiping his hands on his pants. “I still don’t get why you’re asking me about this; you’re the one who had a hook up last night. Surely now you have a data point to work with.”

“I didn’t actually.”

His neck almost cracks with the speed in which he turns to look over at her. “What? Why?”

She just shrugs, disinterested. “I bailed. I haven’t interacted with an organically grown dick in a while and I figured being out of practice might backfire on me.”

“Oh, well that sucks. Or rather, doesn’t,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, and she snickers at his lame attempt of a joke, “But at the same time, please don’t ever use that statement ever again. You’re going to ruin organically grown produce for me.”

“Especially those eggplants, huh,” she nudges him, biting back a smirk, and Bellamy groans out loud, shoving her in the shoulder.

“I fucking hate you,” he says, even as his lips twitch up at the corners, and he leans his head back, throwing an arm over his eyes.

Clarke’s laugh rings out bright and loud, garnering stares from everyone else in the room. “Such a baby,” she says affectionately, tickling his side, and Bellamy flips her off with a harrumph.

He’d like to say that that was the end of all blowjob related topics of conversation.

However, that would be a lie.

Bellamy is by no means a prude, but he just can’t have these types of conversations with Clarke, not without going red and stammering, mostly because when he imagines these types of conversations, there’s far less talking and far more… other activities.

(He also fantasises about mundane things as holding her hand in the supermarket and doing the dishes together at the end of the day because he is in deep and it’s maybe a little bit of a problem.)

“Seriously, you know there’s the internet for all of this, right?” he says, exasperated, one evening after she brings it back up yet again.

Clarke nudges him with a sock clad foot. She’s sprawled out on his couch, scrolling through his Netflix queue while eating his stir fry, the one that she pointedly stole before he could get his hands on it. “Yeah, but you’re an educator, so y’know… educate me.”

“Funny enough, the semantics of giving a blowjob isn’t on the high school history curriculum,” Bellamy says drily, batting away her foot.

Clarke just furrows her brows, pointing a chopstick at him. “Did you use ‘semantics’ on purpose to be punny or…?”

He groans, throwing a piece of sweet pepper at her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re deflecting again,” she clucks.

Bellamy shrugs, not bothering to hide it. “I am, because what you asked before was just plain gross.”

“You work with teenagers all day and you’re telling me that that’s gross?” she asks skeptically. “Sometimes people come on you. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, no, I never understood the appeal of that,” he huffs, and he’s fairly certain he’s red all over. “It just seems unhygienic.”

“You would think so,” she says, smiling fondly as she sits up, “But don’t worry, I don’t really get it either. Besides, I prefer to swallow.”

He doesn’t let his mind wander when she says that; he refuses given that Clarke is sitting right there on his couch next to him and there’s a fine line between jokingly talking about sex with your best friend and imagining having sex with your best when she’s sitting right there.

It doesn’t stop him from huffing again though, even as he fidgets in his seat. “Seriously, what is the upside to having someone… having that.”

“You’re such a prude, it’s adorable,” she says easily, patting him on the leg, “And I guess there’s some science behind it.”

He stares at her in abject horror. “Oh my god. Please don’t.”

“Shut up. There’s like, protein and enzymes and stuff in it. There was a Cosmo article about it a while back.”

“Yes, because Cosmopolitan is the peak scientific resource,” he mutters under his breath.

“Hey, I was an almost doctor,” she points out, placing the take out cartons on the tabletop and curling her legs beneath her, “I know these things, and the science checks out.”

He levels her with a flat look. “You’re not an almost doctor,” he says, “You did two and a half years of premed, stopped, got in a fight about it with your mother, and then lived on my couch for the better part of a year while bemoaning about being unemployed.”

“That doesn’t mean some things didn’t stick,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “Intercostobrachial nerve. Phenylketonuria. The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“God, you’re a dork.”

Clarke just clicks her imaginary finger guns at him. “I’m a dork who’s good at giving head. At least I think I’m good at giving head. No one has complained before.”

“Why do we always end up back here?” he groans, looking heavenward.

“Because we still haven’t come up with an answer to the question I asked two weeks ago,” she replies. And then after a pause during which Bellamy does not stare at her biting her lips, “And also because it’s kind of fun seeing you all flustered like this.”

“I’m glad my discomfort amuses you,” he grumbles, pushing to his feet.

“It kinda does,” she muses, “I mean, I know you’re a nerd, but I’ve also seen you manage to wrangle hookups and even threesomes in the past without doing much work, so it’s funny watching you stumble your way through a discussion about blowjobs.”

Bellamy doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just flips her off, grabbing their empty take out cartons to dispose off in the kitchen. When he comes back, she’s settled on rewatching an episode of Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey, and waits until he throws himself back down on the couch, purposefully jostling her in the process, before she starts it. She does however make sure to elbow him in the stomach when she presses play though, just for propriety’s sake.

Halfway through the show and several bad sex puns later, he finally caves and asks, “If you had the answer to the first question you posed, would you finally drop this and go back to being normal?”

Clarke falters for a second, an unidentifiable emotion flittering across her face too quick for him to decipher. “You think I’m not being normal?”

“I think you’re being weird,” he grouses, glancing over at her, “So weird; in fact, next time we go out I’m willing to wingman you just so you can find someone to test your ridiculous theory on.”

It’s a testament to just how fucking strange it’s been that his heart only gives a little twinge at the idea of him helping her find someone else to hook up with.

“Right,” she says, voice a little bit odd, “Thanks for that. In advance I mean.”

He stares down at her, brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Clarke physically shakes herself and sends him a quick but weak smirk. “Yeah. I’m fine. I was just thinking, finding someone to do this with means I’ll have to tell them about all of this, y’know? And then I’d have to blow them again.” She looks sidelong at him, pointedly drumming her fingers against her jaw. “If only there was someone who already knew of it and was willing to take part.”

“What,” is all he can say, frozen in place.

She leans into him, pressing her face against his bicep. “Come on; it’ll be fun!” she cajoles, “Unless you have serious objections of course. Then we can forever ignore this moment.”

A hand drops on his thigh and he jerks as if startled when it traces the seam of his jeans. “What the fuck- now?” he asks, voice strangled. If he had pearls, he’s pretty sure that he would be clutching them at this instance.

“No time like the present,” she says with a toothy smile before sliding off the couch to kneel between his legs.

“Fucking Christ,” he swears, even as he slouches lower in his seat, widening the vee of his legs to make room for her. Despite the increase in blowjob related thoughts Clarke has inspired within him over the past few weeks, never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that they would ever turn to reality. But alas, here they are, Clarke on her knees in front of him while slowly stroking him through his jeans.

Fuck, he’s going to be so be easy.

“I can’t believe you’re going to blow me while Neil Degrasse Tyson talks about the atmosphere of Venus in the background,” he says mildly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up at her touch and struggling to remain some semblance of chill.

She cocks an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, is this not hot for you? Doesn’t all the obscure knowledge really get you going?” she snorts, undoing the snap of his jeans before looking up at him for a second, “Want me to stop?”

“Fuck no,” he shakes his head emphatically, swearing again when she slips her hand into his boxers. “Jesus.”

“Just Clarke is fine,” she snarks, and he tugs on her hair in retaliation. She worries her lip between her teeth, glancing up at him. “Don’t get your hopes up too high though; it’s been a while.”

All in all, it’s a good thing she doesn’t give him a chance to respond, choosing instead to get her fingers wet and free him from his underwear, since Bellamy is pretty sure that he would have said that having her here is all he could need, or something equally as sappy. Instead, he just tips his head back and groans, letting himself be consumed by her touch.

If he’s being honest, it’s probably not the best blowjob he’s ever received. Clarke is obviously out of practice and takes some time getting back into the groove of things, but at the same time, it’s Clarke and he was about ready to bust a nut the moment she got her hands on him. So really, it’s no surprise that after maybe fifteen minutes or so his hand tightens in her hair, and he comes with a guttural groan.

“Fuck,” he pants, head still tipped back as his heartbeat slows to a dull roar in his ears. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she stands up, and Bellamy tugs her to him, pulling her down for a kiss.

At first she’s stiff in his hands, and he thinks that he’s made a terrible mistake. But then, she slides her hand in his hair and parts her lips, letting him lick into her mouth as he chases the taste of him on her tongue, mewling when he nips at her.

“Couldn’t do that if you got come on you face,” he mutters when they part, effectively ruining the mood, and Clarke laughs low and husky.

“That could be someone’s kink; don’t kinkshame, Bellamy,” she tells him, even as she squirms, trying to inconspicuously rub her legs together.

He notices immediately of course, and a sly grin unfurls across his face. “Need a hand there?” he asks, looming over her, letting his hand slide down her side to curl his fingers through her belt loops and tug her to him.

“Please,” is all she says, and Bellamy figures that if this really is just one wild dream, he might as well make the most it, so he slips his hand down the front of her pants and swears when he finds her already wet and wanting. He gets her off twice, just like that, letting her bite his shoulder to muffle her moans, and figures that this has been the hottest hour of his life thus far.

He doubts nothing could ever compare to this and, fuck, he hopes she doesn’t want this to be a one and done kind of thing. If she does, he’ll probably fucking cry.

Things are never that easy though, because as soon as Clarke catches her breath, she pulls away, leaving him strangely cold.

“I should go,” she murmurs, straightening out her shirt and looking anywhere but him.

“Right,” he says, and his voice sounds hollow even in his own ears. He tries to keep his face expressionless, even as his heart sinks, and Clarke stands up.

“I’ll come back tomorrow though,” and although he knows it’s meant to sound placating, it just sounds awkward, and they both cringe. The previous light mood has dissipated, and Bellamy wants to kick himself. This is what he was worried about whenever he thought about pursuing an actual relationship with Clarke, and he’s honestly scared that their friendship could end for good.

So of course, instead of backtracking and trying to smooth over the situation, Bellamy figures he might as well bite the bullet. Go big or go home, right?

She dawdles as she pulls on her shoes and coat, giving him enough time to build up the courage to finally ask, “Or you could stay here?” eyes screwed shut as he braces for the rejection that never comes.

Her hand stills on the coatrack and she turns around to give him a surprisingly shy smile. “Yeah?” she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah. Uh, if you want to. You don’t have to, obviously,” he babbles, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s up to you to choose, I won’t mind if you say no-”

“You’re terrible at this,” she interrupts, biting her bottom lip as she smiles, “Honestly, I can’t believe I ever thought you had game.”

“I have game,” he mutters sullenly.

Clarke tips her head back and laughs, crossing the room and reaching for his hand, twining their fingers together. “No, you really don’t.”

“Shut up,” he tells her, and then can’t even be mad because it gives her an excuse to lean up and kiss him again, short and sweet.

“This would make testing out my hypothesis much easier,” she teases as she leads them off to his bedroom.

He rolls his eyes, even as he continues to smile so wide that his cheeks hurt. “I can’t believe I’m your lab rat,” he laments before pushing her up against the door to kiss her more soundly.

“Yeah you seem really upset,” she breathes when they part, her fingers twined in his hair as he nuzzles her cheekbone.

They don’t do anything else besides make out that night, Bellamy making it his own personal mission to catalogue every sigh and moan he manages to extract from her, and they eventually fall asleep, Clarke curled into him, her face pressed into his neck.

In the morning though, she wakes him up, telling him that it’s time for her to repeat her experiment, and while Bellamy is pretty sure there isn’t any discernable difference between last night’s blowjob and this morning’s one, he does get to eat her out after, getting her off until her muscles are shaking and they’re both drenched in sweat, so he figures it’s a win.

“I can’t believe this actually worked,” she admits, sitting up on the counter while he makes them breakfast. She’s wearing nothing but one of his t shirts, and it’s more than a little distracting.

“I can’t believe you actually planned it,” he shoots back, adding to green onion to the omelette, “You could have just asked me out like a normal person.”

“I was trying to!” protests Clarke, “It was supposed to be a pick up line! ‘Are blowjobs like riding a bike?’ ‘Oh I don’t know, maybe you should test that out.’ ‘You’re right; wanna help?’ See? Easy!”

He plates her breakfast and hands it to her with an unimpressed stare. “That is the shittiest pick up line I have ever heard,” he tells her as they head over to the table, “You don’t get to tell me I have no game when you have negative game.”

“It worked in the long run,” she mutters mulishly, stabbing a piece of bacon viciously.

“Negative amounts of game, Clarke.”

“I don’t even know why I like you; you’re terrible,” she says, kicking at his shins.

Bellamy just leans over and swipes her other strip of bacon, ignoring her gasp and stuffing it into his mouth. “It’s because I cook for you and let you use me in your dumb experiments. Now eat your breakfast before it goes cold.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, but does as he says nonetheless, and they eat breakfast in companionable silence.

“You know,” she muses once they start clearing away the dishes, “Another thing I picked as I became and almost doctor was that the best way to prove your hypothesis right was through repetition.”

“Oh really.” He watches her as he lets the sink full, noting how she bites her lip as she looks up at him from beneath her lashes, and twists the hem of her shirt in her hands.

“I figured, now that I have a boyfriend, I could use him to gather more data points,” she says impishly, running her hands across his shoulders.

“Oh yes, we must take advantage of that,” he agrees, turning the tap off before pulling her to him with a squeak.

She’s still giggling when he leans down and takes her mouth with his, kissing her impossibly slow and deep, and making her toes curl with it. He loves the feel of her pressed against him, loves how she has to roll up onto the balls of her feet just to meet his lips, and he grins into it. Bellamy leaves his arm around her waist when the part, and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose, smiling when she wrinkles it.

“I’ll be happy to help you gather all the data you need,” he says, she grins up at him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder.

“Good. I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” she says, looking at him incredibly soft, “It’s a long term experiment.”

This time, he kisses the crown of her head. “I’ll be here for how long you need me.”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #my writing #nai did a thing #caramelkru #this was fun to write even though it makes like. ZERO sense

[mrs-entwistle]

1-154

1:Full name?I don’t feel comfortable putting my full name on the Internet, sorry!2:Age?21.3:3 Fears?Dying young/alone, insects, and heights. 😣4:3 things I love?Video games, Christmas, and antique stores! 5:4 turn ons?A bright mind, a kind heart, a good sense of humor, and beautiful blue eyes.6:4 turn offs?Rudeness/disrespect, no communication, lack of affection, and caring only about sex. 7:My best friend?Jeremy and my bf Stephen :’)8:Sexual orientation?Pansexual!9:My best first date?I honestly don’t even know? 10:How tall am I?About 5'2", I think.11:What do I miss?Stephen while he’s at work!12:What time was I born?I’m actually not 100% sure? I wanna say sometime around 6-7 am but I’m not positive.13:Favorite color?Blue! 💙14:Do I have a crush?Yes, on my boyfriend 😎15:Favorite quote?I’m never good at answering this question, I can never really think of any quotes 😅🙈16:Favorite place?Antique stores are guaranteed to be a favorite place of mine, no matter what. 17:Favorite food?Anything involving chicken and cheese, tbh. But my favorite treat is always brownies. 😍18:Do I use sarcasm?Quite heavily, yes 😂19:What am I listening to right now?Don’t Fear The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult20:First thing I notice in new person?I tend to notice everything at once. I’m a quick judge of character and I’m very good at taking things in.21:Shoe size?6.22:Eye color?Brown.23:Hair color?Also brown!24:Favorite style of clothing?Anything that looks like it came directly from Stevie Nicks or Marc Bolan. 😎 I love ‘60s and '70s-esque clothing. It’s the best!25:Kiss someone that starts with the letter “R”?Nope. 27:Meaning behind my URL?I’m John Entwistle’s wife 😘28:Kiss someone that starts with the letter “M”?Nope again.29:Favorite song?That’s waaaaaay too hard of a question, my dude. 😂 Anything by The Who, I’ll just say that.30:Favorite band?The Who, for sure 🤗❤️31:How I feel right now?Very nice! I’m super cozy and content and quite happy. :’) 32:Someone I love?Stephen 😊33:My current relationship status?In a relationship 🌈💕34:My relationship with my parentsMy relationship with my mom is great, we’re as close as can be- but I essentially have no relationship at all with my dad. 35:Favorite holiday?Halloween and Christmas are tied, I can’t pick between them. 😎🎃🎄36:Tattoos and piercing I have?None at all.37:Tattoos and piercing I want?I want a little crescent moon tattoo for sure, and maybe a tiny feather as well.38:The reason I joined Tumblr?It was in 2012 when I was going through an extremely tough time and I had started homeschooling due to an unfortunate decline in my health. I lost all my friends at school and was looking for a way to meet new people with similar interests and occupy my time. 39:Do I and my last ex hate each other?Hate is a strong word. I don’t think he hates me, and I don’t hate him. But I don’t have anything good to say about him though; I’m pretty bitter about how things ended. 40:Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?Whenever I’m not physically with my bf, he always sends me those and vice versa. :’)41:Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?Noooo, lmao.42:When did I last hold hands?Yesterday. 43:How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?Lmaoooo oh boy. It tends to take me at least an hour and a half to two hours. 😅😂🙈44:Have you shaved your legs in the past three days?Yeah.45:Where am I right now?On Stephen’s couch with one of his sisters while she helps assist me on a difficult part of BOTW 😂46:If I were drunk and can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?Probably Stephen m and his family, honestly.47:Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?Depends on how I’m feeling, but usually I prefer it loud. B)48:Do I live with my Mom and Dad?I live with my mom. But as of lately, more than half of the time I’ve been staying with Stephen and his family. 😌💕49:Am I excited for anything?My future. :’) 50:Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?Yes! A couple people.51:How often do I wear a fake smile?I try not to, but I do sometimes.52:When was the last time I hugged someone?Early this morning. 53:What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?I would be more than devastated. But I don’t need to worry about that because that would never happen.54:Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?Probably… 55:What is something I disliked about today?My day has just begun, so nothing yet!56:If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?John Entwistle, even though he isn’t alive anymore. 57:What do I think about most?Stephen and our future. 58:What’s my strangest talent?My excellent impressions. 59:Do I have any strange phobias?I have a phobia of ants that most people think is strange and “funny”.60:Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?I am fine with either, actually. I love being the subject and also the photographer. I don’t have a preference. 😁61:What was the last lie I told?Probably that I’m fine. 62:Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?Depends on the person! Probably talking on the phone, though. 63:Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?I 100% believe in ghosts. And I love to ponder the idea of aliens, but I’m not 100% sold on the idea. I love reading about the concept of them though. 64:Do I believe in magic?Nah. 65:Do I believe in luck?Sort of!66:What’s the weather like right now?Sunny as FUCK I hate Florida lmao67:What was the last book I’ve read?Gyo by Junji Ito 68:Do I like the smell of gasoline?Yessss, it’s gr8 👌🏼69:Do I have any nicknames?Everybody calls me Kait. And Stephen has a bunch of personal nicknames for me 😊70:What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?A fractured ankle, I’d say.71:Do I spend money or save it?I definitely spend it….. 😅72:Can I touch my nose with a tongue?Nope, I can’t.73:Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? I don’t think so :o74:Favorite animal?Cats and bats and red pandas 😎75:What was I doing last night at 12 AM?Cuddling with Stephen.76:What do I think is Satan’s last name is?Trump LOL77:What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?Kokomo by The Beach Boys78:How can you win my heart?You can’t, it’s already won 😘79:What would I want to be written on my tombstone?“She has returned to the cosmos from whence she came” 80:What is my favorite word?Groovy.81:My top 5 blogs on Tumblr?I don’t wanna list just 5 because I love so many blogs, and I don’t like playing favorites 😭82:If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?Something rambly about peace, I’m sure.83:Do I have any relatives in jail?Not that I know of!84:I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?Probably invisibility.85:What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?I’m actually not sure? I’m openly honest about most things but I would probably be afraid to discuss my sexual ventures with my family if they were to ask, for example… 😅86:What is my current desktop picture?I don’t have an actual computer but my background on my iPad is a picture of John Entwistle smiling, and my background on my phone is a photo of me and Stephen at the beach that my mom took of us.87:Had sex?Yes.88:Bought condoms?Also yes.89:Gotten pregnant?Definitely not!90:Failed a class?Yes lmao 😅91:Kissed a boy?Yessss.92:Kissed a girl?Nope.93:Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?Not yet!94:Had job?Yes. 95:Left the house without my wallet?Many times, lmao.96:Bullied someone on the internet?When I was very young; it’s not something I’m proud of. 97:Had sex in public?Nooooo, lmao.98:Played on a sports team?When I was in school, yes- the basketball team 😎99:Smoked weed?Nope.100:Did drugs?Also nope.101:Smoked cigarettes?Yeah.102:Drank alcohol?Mhm. 103:Am I a vegetarian/vegan?No I’m not. 104:Been overweight?Not really? Maybe a little when I was a preteen.105:Been underweight?Nah.106:Been to a wedding?Yes!107:Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?Most likely LOL.108:Watched TV for 5 hours straight?Also definitely a yes, especially in the past when I’ve been sick.109:Been outside my home country?Not yet!110:Gotten my heart broken?Many times.111:Been to a professional sports game?I think so?112:Broken a bone?Nah.113:Cut myself?Yes.114:Been to prom?No.115:Been in airplane?Not yet, I’m kinda scared to. 😅116:Fly by helicopter?Also no 😅117:What concerts have I been to?Art Garfunkel twice, Paul McCartney three times, The Who, The Beach Boys two or three times, Brian Wilson twice, Air Supply, Joan Jett (she opened for The Who), Ringo Starr twice, The Monkees, a Led Zeppelin tribute band, a Beatles tribute band a few times, Stevie Nicks, and I’m seeing Paul Simon in a few months 😎118:Had a crush on someone of the same sex?Yes lmao119:Learned another language?Yes!120:Wore make up?Also yes.121:Lost my virginity before I was 18?Nope. 122:Had oral sex?Yesss 👌🏼123:Dyed my hair?I used to dye it black for a few years. 124:Voted in a presidential election? No, actually.125:Rode in an ambulance?Yes :(126:Had a surgery?Thankfully not.127:Met someone famous?Yes, Ringo Starr 😎🌟128:Stalked someone on a social network?I think everyone has at some point to some extent 😅129:Peed outside?Lmao no 😂130:Been fishing?Actually, I have not!131:Helped with charity?Yes.132:Been rejected by a crush?So many times lmao 133:Broken a mirror?Accidentally! 134:What do I want for my birthday?I actually am not sure tbh? I haven’t really thought about it…as long as I get to spend it with the people I love, I’m happy :’) 135:How many kids do I want and what will be their names?At least one or two, but I haven’t thought of names, really 😌136:Was I named after anyone?My middle name is in honor of my great grandma.137:Do I like my handwriting?Yes, it’s decent sometimes! 138:What was my favorite toy as a child? Nintendo 64 LMAO I have always loved it 😎139:Favorite TV show?That '70s Show and Always Sunny.140:Where do I want to live when older?I dunno, wherever my life takes me! It would be rad to live in England though 😎141:Play any musical instrument?Sadly not, lmao.142:One of my scars, how did I get it?I fell down onto the driveway when I was little and scraped my elbow and the scar is still visible. 143:Favorite pizza toping?Pineapple ;;;;;;)144:Am I afraid of the dark?Nah.145:Am I afraid of heights?Oh yes, absolutely 😅146:Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?Lmaooooo kinda? 😂147:Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?Yup, happens all the time.148:What I’m really bad at?Living 😅149:What my greatest achievments are?Getting my art to Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey tbh 150:The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me?People say mean shit to me often, I don’t know what the worst thing has been though honestly 😅🙈151:What I’d do if I won the lottery?I would grab Stephen and my family and go shoppin 💃🏻152:What do I like about myself? I like my artistic talents and capabilities and I especially like my fashion sense and music taste 😎153:My closest Tumblr friend?Jeremy 😁154:Something I fantasise about?My future, yo! ✨

Thanks v much!!! This took awhile 😅💕

#about me #long post