(saved the best for last and then forgot i learned how to save ask responses in drafts and never posted this! oh hi, @bgonemydear!! đ)
cocoa â if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have?
answered this one this other day, BUT. that was a ~whatâs next~ response, so hereâs a ~dream scenario~ response: iâd LOVE to try fully bleached-out blonde hair. if i had thicker/more hair, iâd try an undercut. extensions would be fun too?? idk, my hair is thin and flat and pin straight, it barely holds a beach wave. oooooh on that note, a beach wave with dark roots and lighter ombre/balayage would be fun and somewhat attainableâthrowing that into the dream category too. maybe i should just share my folder full of hair screenshots here hahaha
cinnamon â if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?
hmmm either the 1960s (for the music) or the victorian era (for the literature and the fascination with female hysteria) or the 1990s/early 2000s (for the music and the pop culture and the tv shows/game shows)
ghost â is there someone that you miss having in your life?
iâve missed YOU for starters, old friend! in weak/nostalgic moments, i miss the fuckboi i havenât seen in years (ugh, i KNOW). i miss the handful of semi-local friends that i used to see semi-regularly. but more than anyone, i miss my friends in australia. itâs been even harder to keep in touch with them this year and i was meant to be visiting them at the end of oct into nov, so. it hurts a whole bunch knowing that not only do i not get to see them soon, but itâll be YEARS before any of us get to physically be in the same place again.Â
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Bellamyâs vision threatened to blur and he swayed on his feet. Across the table Clarke smirked, eyebrow raised in challenge. Â Â The crowd inhaled and waited.
He tossed the ball lightly, wishing he hadnât agreed to those shots with Miller just before the game began. Despite her smaller stature Clarke seemed significantly more sober, just a faint flush tinting her cheeks. It wasnât fair, just like the deep v-neck she was wearing.
The ball hit the rim and bobbled in. Half the crowd groaned and the other half cheered, and Murphy just looked smug. Bellamy was fairly sure he was taking bets on both of them, but he hardly needed anymore incentive to beat her.
Clarke drained the cup and tossed it over her shoulder. âYou shoulda quit when you had the chance, Blake.â
âAnd forfeit to you, princess? Never.â
She grinned. Her next shot went in without so much as brushing the rim, and he secretly wondered if he should have quit between their fourth and fifth game. It would have been a tie, but at least he wouldnât be risking alcohol poisoning.
Or maybe he should have turned her down when she challenged him to beer pong in the first place, because he was not known to have the best judgment where Clarke Griffin was concerned. Â She brought out his competitive side like no one else on campus, and while a year ago he would have said he hated her, now things were a little more...murky.
He still thought she was annoying, but he respected the steel in her spine. Â And he might resent that her mother was the dean of the med school, meaning she was considered a legacy while heâd had to fight his way in, but he understood she hadnât asked for her background any more than he had. Â She could be funny, and she was one of the only people who laughed at his jokes. Â They werenât friends, exactly, but they werenât really enemies either. Â They were something in the middle, although sometimes there would be a spark in her eyes and heâd wonder if they could be something else entirely.
Like now. Â Her blue eyes had gone dark, and when he missed his next shot she definitely licked her lips when she looked at him. Â His face felt unusually warm. Â He focused harder than he should have on the table, telling himself he was imagining things. Â Clarke sank another shot and high-fived Raven while Bellamy gulped down the beer.
Bellamy aimed, taking longer than strictly necessary. Â âYou can always walk away,â Clarke goaded. Â âNo shame in that.â
âNot a chance.â In a stroke of luck, Bellamyâs shot landed.  He glanced up, ready to crow, and the look in her eyes stole the breath from his lungs.  So he just tipped his head when she raised her glass to him, gratified when her own gaze seemed to falter.
âI know this isnât your area of expertise, but I need you to not marry me.â
Bellamy looks up from his book to see a pretty girl with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes watching him, her expression shrewd and calculating. Sheâs dressed in what he thinks of as the standard wedding ensemble, at least here: a serviceable dress, probably one of her nicest. She looks a little older than his usual runaway bride, but she could still be under the age of majority.
He has no idea what she wants.
âThat doesnât sound hard,â he says, with an easy smile. âIâm not marrying you right now, I think I can keep doing it.â
Her mouth twitches like she wants to return the expression, but knows she shouldnât when things are so serious. âItâs going to get harder.â
âIs it?â
âI had a young man bring me here thinking he would marry me, but heâs not going to. I think heâll try to insist. Will you not perform the marriage?â
He has a number of questions, but only one answer. âIf you donât want to be married, I wonât marry you.â
She exhales her relief in a great sigh. âPerfect, thank you. Iâll be back later this afternoon.â
Itâs far from the first strange encounter Bellamy has had since taking up employment the âblacksmithâ at the Hammer and Rings six months ago. Heâd been reluctant at first, having no formal training with metalworking, but Charles had assured him that no one had expected real smithing from the shop in years, and if anyone did need that kind of work done, he could always direct them elsewhere.
And that, at least, has been true. All anyone has wanted Bellamy to do is marry them, and that, at least, heâs good at. His favorites are the older couples who come to Gretna Green to be married quickly and without any fuss, the ones who have done this before and now just want it to be done with. Itâs a settled in, comfortable kind of romance that always makes him smile.
The young people worry him more, mostly because he sees his sister in every willful young bride whoâs decided she knows her heart and her parents could never understand. Itâs not even that he disagrees with their decision so much as it reminds him that he doesnât, and he thinks they probably know enough to make those choices, which means that he should, perhaps, give his sister more credit than he does. Which isnât a thought he likes to sit with.
Not that everyone who comes to him is making the right choice in getting married, of course, but the bright-haired young woman is the first one to actually come and tell him not to marry her. Thatâs a new one.
Itâs a busy morningâa local couple in their thirties comes in with a large group of family for a more raucous ceremony than usual, and then and older couple who just want theirs done as quickly as possibleâand by the time the woman comes back, heâs almost convinced himself he wonât see her again.
But there she is, wearing the same dress, hair swept up, blue eyes nervous now as she looks around the shop. The young man next to her rubs Bellamy the wrong way as soon as he looks at him, although itâs hard to be sure heâd feel that way if he hadnât heard the woman wasnât interested in marrying.
Then again, she never said the man forced herâshe had him bring her, under false pretenses. She wasnât kidnapped.
Still, he doesnât like the manâs looks, or trust him to take the news that he isnât getting married well. But even if Bellamy isnât much of a smith, he spends plenty of his days lifting heavy things and banging anvils. He can make sure the man doesnât take his feelings out on his unwilling bride.
âWeâd like to get married, as quickly as possible,â the man tells Bellamy. âItâs a pound fee?â
âIt is,â he says. His eyes flick to the woman. âYou want to get married?â
She wets her lips, but her focus is on her betrothed, not on Bellamy. âIâm so sorry, Finn, butâI didnât come here to marry you.â
If he looked heartbroken, Bellamy would feel bad for the man. But he just seems confused and a little offended, as if the thought of a woman not marrying him is incomprehensible. As if anyone in the world would want to marry him.
âWhat?â he asks.
âI appreciate your escorting me, but I donât think Iâm ready for marriage. Iâll pay your fare for wherever you want to go. But I wonât marry you.â
âWhat will you do?â
She shrugs. âWhatever I want.â
Bellamy offers up a silent prayer to any gods who might be positively inclined toward a man with a few things in common with a priest, asking whoever is listening to make Finn just walk away.
But his jaw works. âYou can still marry us, canât you?â he asks Bellamy.
âI marry people who consent to be married. She doesnât. I canât do anything for you.â
âClarke,â says Finn, turning his attention to the woman, voice pleading.
At least Bellamy knows her name now.
âWe donât have anything to talk about. Iâm sorry I had to lie to you, but I needed to get out. I appreciate what you did for me.â
âAnd thatâs it,â he says. âJust like that.â
She shrugs. âJust like that.â
âAt least let me walk you back to the inn. We can talk. I can make youââ He seems to realize thatâs a bad road to go down. âYou have to see reason. If you go home unmarriedâthink of your reputation, Clarke! Be reasonable.â
âI can care for my own reputation, thank you. And walk myself home. But Iâd like toââ She must be casting about for an excuse to not leave with this man, so Bellamy steps in. He did promise to not marry her; he might as well make sure he finishes the job.
âSee the anvil?â he supplies. âA lot of people do. Mineâs an antique.â
âYes, please.â
Finn looks like he might still protest, but Bellamy carries himself so he doesnât look as big as he is, for the most part, and he can make himself look bigger when he wants to.
âFor your train fare,â Clarke tells Finn, handing him a small bag. âI really canât thank you enough.â
Judging by the way his hand dips when he takes the money, itâs more than he was expecting, and apparently enough to mollify him. âWhat should I tell your family if I see them?â
âThat we didnât marry after all. And that Iâm not coming back.â
With that, heâs finally convinced to take his leave, and once heâs gone, Clarke slumps against the wall in relief. âThank you,â she tells him, eyes flicking up to meet his.
Bellamy shrugs. âItâs not much harder than marrying someone.â
âStill, I robbed you of a fee.â She finds a pound in her purse and gives it to him. âThe same rate, yes?â
âPeople donât usually pay me for not marrying them. Iâd be rich.â
She smiles. âJust this once. Can I see the anvil?â
He shows her around the shop, which doesnât take long, and calls Octavia in to watch it after so he can walk Clarke back to her inn, in case her former fiance is waiting to make his case again. She gathers her things and asks him if he knows the location of a good boarding house.
âI canât thank you enough,â she says, once heâs brought her to one.
âIt was my pleasure,â he says. âI donât get to not marry people very often.â
She laughs. âYouâre very good at it.â
âThank you. I hopeââ He still doesnât know what happened to her, why she hatched this scheme or what she plans to do, so itâs hard to know what well wishes she might appreciate. âYou enjoy the rest of your time here,â he settles on, at last.
She smiles. âI hope so too.â
*
Three days later, sheâs waiting by the shop door when he arrives to open up, her arms full of flowers.
âGood morning,â he says, frowning. âDo you need to not be married again?â
She smiles, a bright, sudden thing, gone as quickly as it came. âI think Iâm sufficiently unmarried.â
âIâm glad it took.â He unlocks the door. âHow can I help you?â
âThat was my question to you.â
âWas it?â
She shrugs. âYou perform marriages.â
âUsually.â
âAnd youâre paid a pound.â
âDepending. Some people pay more, some less. It depends on how much they have and how generous theyâre feeling.â
Clarke nods. âThe law is that two people have to agree to be married in front of witnesses, yes?â
âIt is.â
âSo you need another witness sometimes. I can do that.â
âSo can my sister. I manage fine.â
âI need an occupation. I have flowers,â she adds, showing off her armful. âWhich people might like. It doesnât have to be much, but flowers are traditional.â
âYou understand that people come to be married here because they donât want to bother with a real wedding,â he points out. âIf they wanted flowersââ
âYou can want flowers without wanting a real wedding. Can I try it?â
âTry what, exactly?â
âBeing a witness and offering flowers.â
Bellamy considers her, taking in the changes of the last few days. Sheâs dressed more plainly now, or at least less ostentatiously. As the son of a seamstress, heâs always had a good sense for clothing, and while the dress isnât flashy, itâs well made, with some detailing that would cost money. She gave Finn a bag of coin to get him to leave, and gave him a pound too, and now sheâs obtained a good number of flowers. Itâs possible sheâs reckless with her money, but she doesnât feel reckless to him. She has enough money she can use it to solve her problems: to rid herself of a troublesome suitor, to buy flowers for weddings.
To make a good impression on the man who performs those weddings.
âIf youâd like,â he says. âWe werenât ever introduced.â
âClarke,â she says. No surname, no title. Just Clarke.
âBellamy,â he says. âCome in.â
Heâs not expecting Clarkeâs gambit to pay off, but the first couple of the day smiles when she offers them flowers, and they pay her two shillings for the flowers and another two to be their witness. Itâs not going to make her rich, but sheâs making more than it cost her to buy the flowers, and the couple seems to appreciate it.
âCan I come back tomorrow?â she asks, and Bellamy shrugs.
âIf youâd like. Are you planning to say here?â he canât help asking. âI thought youâd give your fiance a few days to leave and then go yourself.â
âWhy would I go? Itâs nice here.â
Heâd need a great deal more context about her life than he has to offer a good reason for her to not settle in Gretna Green, but at least if she keeps on working for him, he might someday get that information. And heâll know how sheâs doing, too. He likes keeping up with people.
âThen you can come back whenever you like,â he says, and is rewarded with another one of her smiles.
âThank you.â
He may come to regret it, but he hasnât yet, so all he says is, âYouâre welcome. Iâm looking forward to having some help.â
*
Bellamyâs too stubborn to just ask for Clarkeâs story, so he puts things together slowly, picking up the pieces she scatters and trying to assemble them into a picture that makes sense. She mentions her family rarely, but both of her parents are alive, and they seem well off; sheâll mention a gown her mother bought for her or some business her father is involved in, things that speak of having money to spare. She has a few friends sheâll reference in passing, but he gets the impression that sheâd grown apart from them for one reason or another even before she left her whole life behind.
Mostly, it doesnât bother him, not knowing the particulars of her life, because he knows the broad strokes of her. Sheâs smart and interesting, good company when things arenât too busy. Octavia had been getting tired of having to be on site to be a witness if he required one, and sheâs glad to have someone else take over her position. Bellamy isnât rich, but he has enough that he can give Clarke a cut, and it seems to be enough for her to get by. She seems to like being here, and he likes having her.
Every now and then, Octavia will ask if heâs going to marry her, and he always says no, less because he doesnât want to marry her and more because he doesnât think he will. He certainly doesnât know how to ask.
Itâs a recurring theme with Clarke: he never knows how to just say what he wants.
Almost a year after they first met, though, she gives him at least some of the answers heâs been looking for, showing up late with a newspaper instead of flowers in her shaking hands.
âWhat happened?â he asks.
âMy father passed away.â
âIâm sorry,â he says, the words coming out before heâs even consciously thought them, the expected response, but he has no idea if itâs appropriate. âI assume.â
That makes her smile. âI am sorry. But itâs complicated.â
âYou know you can always talk to me, if you want.â
She sighs. âHe wanted me to marry. Someone he picked out.â
âI thought as much.â
âI thought it was greed. He and my mother had plenty, I thought they just wanted more. But if he was illââ She sighs. âHe probably wanted to make sure I would be taken care of once he was gone.â
âWill your mother be all right?â
âWithout me to worry about, she should be.â She sighs, rubs her face. âI wasnât planning to go back, so why do I feel guilty now that heâs dead for not seeing him? I wouldnât if he was alive.â
âIâm not sure. My father died when I was three, and my mother died when I was there. But maybe you thought the two of you would make it up, someday.â
âMaybe.â She sighs. âAnd I blame myself. When I left, it probably broke his heart.â
âDid you ever get in touch with them again? After your elopement.â
âI wrote them a letter and sent it through my friend Wells, so they wouldnât know where I was.â
He frowns. âDidnât you tell them you were running away to Gretna Green?â
âYes, but no one stays here. They just come here to get married and leave.â
Itâs exactly what he thought sheâd do when he first met her, so he canât really argue the point. People do move hereâhe moved here himself, after his mother diedâbut itâs not exactly a destination for well-born young ladies.
âWere they looking for you?â
âI honestly donât know. I burned my bridges very thoroughly when I left. Not marrying the man you elope with does much more harm to your reputation than marrying him would. They couldnât have taken me back. ButâI did love them.â
âSo why did you leave?â
Her mouth twitches. âHow long have you been wanting to ask that?â
âI figured youâd tell me.â
âIf you ever asked.â She wets her lips. âAs I said, he must have known of the illness,but he didnât tell me. All he told me was that I needed to marry as soon as possible. He picked a groom, but his taste was very poor.â
âSo you found someone to run away with.â
âI know it seemsââ She sighs. âI said I wouldnât marry Mr. Wallace, and he said I would. If I stayed, he would have made me.â
âYou were old enough to say no.â
âAnd then there would be another, and another. I couldnât stay knowing he didnât care what I wanted. So I gave him a story about what I wanted that he could believe.â
âWhat do you want?â he asks.
She opens her mouth and then closes it, rethinking whatever she was going to say. âWhen I left, I didnât know. I just knew that marrying some rich stranger wasnât it.â
âBut you know now?â
âI want what I have,â she says, as if sheâs making her mind up about it slowly. âJust this.â
âGood.â
âAnd I want to go to London.â
âOh?â
âNot to stay. Just for the funeral, to pay my respects. He was still my father,â she adds, her tone tinged with steel. âI loved him.â
He nods. âOf course. Do you want company?â
When she really smiles, Clarke doesnât like to be seen, like sheâs embarrassed by the expression. She ducks her head, but he can still spot the edges of it, warm and soft, making his heart skip. âWould you mind?â
âOf course not. I can always find something to do in London.â
She shows her amusement this time. âHave you ever been to London?â
âNo,â he admits. âBut Iâm sure I could find something to do if I went.â
âI have some ideas.â
âSuch as?â
âYouâd probably like the British Museum.â
âI probably would. When are we leaving?â
*
Bellamy isnât famous, really, but he is somewhat notorious. The anvil priest is a dying breed, a casualty of modernity, and Bellamy is likely the last there will ever be. Thereâs been talk of changing the law, to move away from the old rites, but people like what he does. And he is, if he does say so himself, charming and engaging, a perfect symbol of the entire institution of irregular marriage. He has a reputation, and there are people now who come to have him marry them, specifically.
Which he encourages as much as possible; he can use all the business he can get. And all the publicity.
So he brings his anvil to London with them.
âIt canât be that expensive,â Clarke observes as he hauls it to the train. âIf someone stole itââ
âItâs an antique, Clarke. Itâs irreplaceable. If Iâm losing a few days of work, then I should at least get some attention out of it.â
He regrets the words as soon as theyâre out of his mouth; Clarkeâs expression clouds. âYou donât have toââ
âI didnât mean it like that. I havenât had a holiday in years. But if I can get some publicity for the shop while Iâm at it, I might as well.â
âYou canât bring the anvil to the funeral. Or the British Museum.â
Sheâs smiling now, so he lets himself smile too. âIt would take some of the focus off you.â
âAnd remove the mystery of where Iâm living.â
âIâll leave it in the hotel,â he promises. âDonât worry.â
Thereâs a crowd to see them off at the train station, the whole town laughing and jeering as Bellamy hefts his anvil up before him. Clarkeâs right, it would be easier to just replace it if someone did steal it, which he canât imagine they would. But everyone will be talking about this, and theyâll talk about it in London too. He doesnât have to cart it with him everywhere he goes, just to and from the train, and then, once heâs not holding it, heâll disappear.
Itâs quite a trick.
Once theyâre in London, he realizes there was some part of him that worried Clarke missed it, that she would change as soon as she stepped off the train. Maybe she missed this, being a part of society, being somewhere exciting. Maybe sheâs not meant to stay with him.
âThe airâs so dirty here,â she says, making a face, and Bellamy lets out a breath.
âIt is. Good thing we arenât staying too long.â
Clarke is quiet for a second, and then she says, âI was thinking.â
His heart lodges in his throat. âThinking?â
âIâm going to need to tell my mother who you are. I donât know what I should say.â
âYou canât just say Iâm a friend?â he asks. âComing to support you?â
âI doubt sheâll believe me.â
âSo youâd rather tell her a lie she will believe? Itâs up to you,â he adds, before she can respond. âIâm here to support you, and Iâll do that however you think would be best. If you want to tell her you did get married in Gretna Green after all, thatâs fine. Or we could be living in sin, if you want to scandalize her.â
That makes her laugh, and some of the tension drains from her frame. âYouâre right, it doesnât really matter what I say. Sheâs going to believe the worst no matter what.â
âWhatâs the worst?â
âThat weâre not married but Iâve already had one of your children and more are on the way.â
âI can think of worse things.â
âMy mother canât.â
âAs I said, whatever you want to tell her. Iâm here to make your life easier.â
âThank you.â
He shrugs, not sure what to say. Itâs no great sacrifice for him. Not even a small one. He wouldnât be anywhere else. âWell, you are taking me to the museum.â
They spend a day being tourists, which is nice, and the second day, they go to the funeral. Bellamy knew Clarke came from money, but itâs different experiencing it in person, all the well-dressed mourners and the large casket. He doesnât think of death as an opulent affair, but heâs never known anyone rich who died before. Apparently, they go all out.
Clarke introduces him as her husband, mostly so she doesnât have to have a long conversation with any friends or relatives about who he actually is. Plenty of them heard sheâd run off to get married, so itâs what they expected, the rebellious daughter and her low-born husband, here to disgrace the family. The bigger surprise is that she came at all.
They make it through fifteen minutes of introductions and small talk before Clarkeâs mother appears, not that Bellamy actually recognizes her as Abigail Griffin. Sheâs just another woman dressed in black, her grief no more apparent than anyone elseâs, but she yanks Clarkeâs arm, eyes roving over her, cataloging every difference.
âYou came,â is what she finally says to Clarke.
âI saw in the paper.â
Her gaze moves from Clarke to Bellamy, taking him in too. He thinks he knows some of what sheâll focus onâthe shade of his skin, the quality of his clothingâbut he holds his head high and meets her eyes when she gets to his face. Heâs here because Clarke wants him to be here; thatâs the only thing that matters.
âIs this your husband?â
âBellamy, yes. Bellamy, my mother, Abigail Griffin.â
Abigailâs mouth works, the expression reminding him of Clarke. âSo, you went to Gretna Green with one husband and came back with a different one?â
âI went with a fiance,â Clarke shoots back. âI traded him for someone I liked better.â
Another long pause, and then she finally says, âYou shouldnât be here.â
âWhich of us?â
âEither. Your father was trying to help you, and youââ
âIf I donât want to be helped, itâs not helpful!â she snaps, clearly louder than she meant to. She recovers, takes a few deep breaths. âI know I could have reacted better, but you werenât listening to me. I didnât know what to do.â
âYou werenât listening to us either.â
âYou werenât going to convince me to marry Mr. Wallace. We were at an impasse.â
Clarkeâs mother slumps all at once, looking older than her years. âWhy did you come back, Clarke?â
âI donât know. I thought I should. If you want me to leaveââ
âNo, no. Of course I donâtâhow long are you in town?â
âOnly until the day after tomorrow.â She glances at Bellamy. âWe could have dinner? Catch up?â
Bellamy doesnât join them. Clarke clings to his hand through the ceremony, so hard it feels like she might break it, but she says she can handle dinner on her own, and he lies in their room in the inn, wondering if heâll ever see her again. If sheâll be spirited away or, worse, convinced to stay here, to return to the life she was supposed to have.
But she comes back as planned, collapses onto the bed with a sigh of relief.
âIt went well?â he asks.
âAs well as it could have. I told her Iâm not married, but Iâm happy. She said I could come home and she wouldnât make me marry anyone. That I could do what I wanted.â
âTempting.â
She turns her head to smile at him. âNot really. Iâm already doing what I want.â
He smiles back. âGood.â
*
Itâs a year and a half before he sees Clarkeâs mother again, which sounds like a long time, but itâs much shorter than he was expecting, given he thought heâd never see her again. Clarke, maybe, would visit home, but he hadnât thought heâd be invited, even if Clarke wanted him to come.
His relationship with Clarke complicated and straightforward all at once. Sheâs his best friend, his constant companion. Once Octavia married and left the house, Clarke moved into her old room. The town gossips are convinced theyâre fucking or married or all of the above, and if Bellamyâs honest, he thinks they should be. But he hasnât figured out how to ask, when he already has so much. He already feels greedy just for wanting.
Heâs happy, and he doesnât need more.
âI thought you must be the anvil priest,â is Abigail Griffinâs greeting, when she arrives. âI didnât think there could be many Bellamys.â
âMom,â Clarke says, startling as Bellamy shoots to his feet. âWhat are you doing here?â
She looks better than the last time they saw her, no longer dressed for mourning and smiling in apparently genuine amusement.
âDonât stand on my account. I came for the same reason everyone does: Iâm getting married.â
Thereâs a little color in her cheeks, a pleased flush that Bellamyâs familiar with from years of performing marriage ceremonies. Whoever sheâs marrying, sheâs happy.
Clarkeâs jaw is hanging open, so he does the talking. âCongratulations. What kind of ceremony are you looking for? We have flowers if youâd like, and Clarke takes pictures for a fee.â
The camera had been expensive, but it will pay for itself in no time. And Clarke loves it.
âI heard the priestâs wife performs ceremonies too,â says Abigail, still watching Clarke. âIs that you? Did you finally get married?â
âNot yet, but Iâm not a real priest either,â Bellamy says. âPeople like to simplify things.â
âWho are you marrying?â Clarke finally manages. Thereâs no sign of a groom, so itâs a good question.
âMarcus Kane. You remember Marcus. He was asking about a horse he liked, but heâll be along shortly.
"Youâre marrying Marcus Kane in Gretna Green,â Clarke says, voice blank.
âI thought it would be better to not make a big deal about it. We donât need anything elaborate.â She smiles. âA picture would be nice.â
âOf course.â
âAnd if you can perform the ceremonyââ
âIâll be the witness,â Bellamy says. âNo problem.â
Itâs not as strange for him as it is for Clarke, but itâs still plenty strange. Still, Marcus Kane seems nice and Abigail seems happy, and after they all go out to dinner together, like a family.
âSo, the two of you arenât married?â Marcus asks, with apparently genuine interest.
âWe just havenât had time,â Clarke says, straight-faced, and Bellamy chokes on his wine.
âOf course,â her mother says, sounding amused. âIt would be so difficult to organize.â
âWeâre very busy.â
âWell, when you do marry, I hope youâll let us know,â says Abigail. âI know that this place isnât exactly known for long engagements, but Iâd like to be here, and it wouldnât take us long to come up. Iâd like to see more of you,â she adds, to Clarke. âI know itâs beenâdifficult. In the last few years. But Iâd like it to be better.â
âMe too.â Clarke glances at him, her expression unreadable. âIf we get married, weâll be sure to let you know so you can join us. Weâre not in any rush.â
They finish the meal, but Bellamyâs mind never completely leaves that conversation, doesnât move on from Clarkeâs motherâs certainty that a marriage is coming, the easy way Clarke talks about it.
He doesnât have to say anything, of course. Clarke doesnât see to be planning to. They can go on as they have been, and heâll be happy.But he doesnât know when heâll get another excuse to bring it up, and if he doesnât take this one, heâll be thinking about it for days, weeks, maybe the rest of his life.
Theyâre on their way home when he gets his courage up. âIf you want to marry me while your mother is here, nowâs probably easiest.â
She glances at him, expression impossible to make out in the dark. âItâs a little late tonight.â
âWell, tomorrow.â
âCan you marry yourself? Or would we need to get someone else to do it?â
âAlmost anyone could, thatâs the point. But Iâd probably ask someone else to do it. If youââ He clears his throat. âI love you and Iâve wanted to marry you almost since I met you. So weâre clear. I just didnât know how to ask.â
She laughs, a sound like tension breaking. Or maybe just a sound that breaks tension. âThis might be the least romantic proposal in history.â
âPeople donât usually come to me for romance. But I can get down on one knee, if it will make a difference. Come up with a whole speech. Whatever youâdââ
She tugs his arm, and once heâs stopped, she pulls him down by the front of his shirt, leaning up so she can catch his mouth as quickly as possible. Her lips are a little cool in the night air, but the kiss is warm and perfect, everything heâs been wanting for all these years, and he tugs her closer, reveling in the feeling of having her at last.
âJust find someone who can marry us tomorrow and Iâll be happy,â she says.
âI think that can be arranged.â
The ceremony takes all of a minute, Miller asking both of them if they want to be married, with Clarkeâs mother and her new husband as witnesses. They kiss again and thatâs it, no fuss, no great declarations. Not a great romance that will echo through the ages, by anyoneâs standards.
I was about to be like âI have a bunch writtenâ but then I checked and itâs 2,200 words and I havenât added anything to it since February 11th and I feel like google drive is personally calling me out with that âlast editedâ tag.
We were discussing how Finn probably didnât go down on Raven or Clarke and well, then things spiraled. Â Set at some point during season one. Â For the salt cellar.Â
Bellamy was working on repairing a section of the wall when he overheard two of the delinquents snickering. Â He set down the makeshift hammer and listens, because teenage criminals laughing is now something that makes him a little anxious. Â Itâs not much, just idiot kids bragging about sex, but when he heard the first boy laughing about getting his dick sucked and walking away, Bellamy decided he needed to do something about it.
That night, he cornered the two he overheard a short distance from the fire. Â âI hear youâre enjoying your freedom,â he said as intimidatingly as possible. Â They exchanged worried looks, and Bellamy arched an eyebrow. Â âBut before anything else happens in my camp, I think we need to talk about how youâre treating Ursula.â Â (Heâd asked Miller for the latest gossip as surreptitiously as he could before starting this, and according to him, Isaacâ the blond, skinny oneâ was mostly hooking up with Ursula. Â The other oneâ who had encouraged him in laughing about hitting it and quitting itâ had several sticks in the fire, but had been thus far unsuccessful. Â Probably for good reason.)
Isaac looked relieved. Â âSheâs into it, I swear,â he said, and his friend (Martin, Miller said) nodded rapidly.
âItâs not about that. Â Itâs about being a good partner,â Bellamy said, and he heard a dry snort that could only belong to Miller from his side. Â âYou have something to add?â he asked his friend.
âProbably not, if itâs about sex with women. Â But Iâm still gonna listen,â he said, and sat down next to Martin and Isaac with an expression of faux-interest.
Bellamy rolled his eyes. Â âLook, I get it,â he started, and Martin and Isaac exchange a look. Â âWeâreâ weâre a lot freer here, and you might not have been able to...be with someone so easily on the Ark.â Â He couldnât condemn them for itâ heâd certainly had his fun the first few daysâ but heâd realized something from being with Raven. Â Sheâd initially tried to wave him off when he kissed her hipbone, and it was only after a quick conversation that sheâd agreed.
And then, the second his tongue touched her clit and her fingers started tugging on his hair and he realized that Finn, in all likelihood, was one of those guys. Â The guys who, for whatever reason, felt that their pleasure was most important. Â A lot of times it was based on ignorance, or shyness, or even just a mistaken belief that for men, sex had to involve an orgasm and for women, it didnât.
And Bellamy was not about to let that continue. Â Not in his camp. Â âBut if youâre going to expect oral sex from someone, you have to be willing to give it in return,â he said, and Isaacâs eyes got wide. Â âSo first up, communication.â
âWait, youâre going to give lessons?â Miller asked gleefully.
âWeâre going to talk about communication,â he growled, but already Millerâs laughter was drawing over a few more curious ears. Â Fine thenâ theyâd all learn the importance of reciprocal oral sex and the female orgasm. Â âAny time youâre entering into a sexual relationship, you have to be able to ask your partner what they want. Â This goes for men or women, by the way.â
âIâd like some tips, actually, if thatâs on the table, â a guy named Sterling said as he took a seat next to Miller.
âThatâs not what Iâm doing. Â Now, itâs important to ask what theyâre comfortable with, but it is also equally important that you be an enthusiastic partner. Â You can all have your own limits, but I personally think that if itâs something you want to be done to you, you should also be willing to do it for your partner. Â Thereâs always exceptions, butââ
â-- this is the worst sex lesson Iâve ever heard,â Clarke interrupted. Â âAnd why the hell are you doing this?â
Bellamy glanced at her and took in her amused grin and the way the firelight played in her hair.  He wanted to say  Iâm doing this because I know thereâs no chance in hell Finn went down on you, but for one thing, thatâs not something you say to your co-leader.  And for another thing, the thought of Clarke splayed out across his furs, his head between her thighs, suddenly made it hard to breathe, much less think.  âBecause I think there needs to be a little more equality in the orgasms around here,â he said, and Clarke laughed.
âWeâre talking cunnilingus, right?â she asked cheerfully, and at the shocked gasps from the now-crowd huddling around them she grinned.  âOkay, who knows where the clitoris is?â she asked, and  Miller had never looked more entertained.
Bellamy leaned his lips down to near her ear. Â âI was planning on doing more like, general consent and enthusiasm,â he whispered.
âAnd that is both boring and not super helpful,â she said. Â âWell, thatâs not entirely true. Â But Pike did drill us all pretty thoroughly on consent, right?â Clarke directed the last bit at the group, and Bellamy was met with a chorus of yes means yes and giggles. Â âRight. Â So, your partner has given you an enthusiastic yes. Â Now, the clit. Â Who can tell me where that is?â
What followed were some of the most painful minutes of Bellamyâs life, because it was Clarke and she was talking about cunnilingus and damn, not only did she know what she was talking about, she was hot and pretty and smart and funny and he would do anything to spend the rest of the night with his face buried between her legs.  But she was with Finnâ or at least that mess wasnât completely overâ so he had to let that go. Â
Clarke was now discussing when to add digital penetration while licking a clit, and he decided to jump back in. Â âNot everyone likes that,â he countered, and Clarke raised an eyebrow. Â âIâm just saying, your partner can tell you what they want. Â And if youâre the person receiving, donât be afraid to speak up.â
âSo youâre saying you like them talkative?â she teased, and there was another chorus of giggles.
Iâm saying I want to hear you beg for it, he wanted to say. Â âIâm just emphasizing the importance of communication on both sides,â he said instead, and maybe it was a trick of the firelight, but he could have sworn that Clarkeâs eyes darkened for a second, like she knew what he was thinking.
âMan, this is the weirdest foreplay Iâve ever witnessed,â Miller muttered under his breath, and Bellamy wanted to kick him in the shins.
Clarke clucked her tongue and turned back to the crowd, and Bellamy allowed himself a small smile.
Because whatever this was between themâ it wasnât over. Â Not by a long shot.
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You know me too well to be this kind to me. Then again, âneurotic as fuckâ, and âfalls off the face of the planet for months at a time unless it involves tumblr and yelling about bad writing on tv shows until she just abandons it all togetherâ, arenât options so, I will take Blue and Purple.Â
For you Iâm going to go with Blue (so, so blue)...and yeah. Purple for you, too. Because, apparently, I believe in the like attracts like rules of friendship instead of the opposites attract rules. This should shock no one who knows me.Â