The 100 Ship Weeks

No one’s idea of a one year anniversary is apple-picking. It’s not romantic. It’s four hours of tossing apples into a basket while being bathed in sweat and whatever’s making the air so sticky. It’s far from romantic and if they had plans for once they got home, plans that involved a bed and naked bodies… Well, those plans don’t exist anymore.

Not when her feet hurt and she’s trailing after this oddly cheerful crowd.

Of course, it’s hard to care about her feet or the heat when her boyfriend keeps snickering beside her, even though she’s caught him panting, holding on to a tree for support more than once in the last hour. She looks up at him unamused and he cracks up, slinging an arm around her shoulder on to her for support.

No one’s idea of a one year anniversary is apple-picking. It’s not romantic. It’s four hours of tossing apples into a basket while being bathed in sweat and whatever’s making the air so sticky. It’s far from romantic and if they had plans for once they got home, plans that involved a bed and naked bodies… Well, those plans don’t exist anymore.

Not when her feet hurt and she’s trailing after this oddly cheerful crowd.

Of course, it’s hard to care about her feet or the heat when her boyfriend keeps snickering beside her, even though she’s caught him panting, holding on to a tree for support more than once in the last hour. She looks up at him unamused and he cracks up, slinging an arm around her shoulder on to her for support.

AN: AAAAHHHHH!!!!!! The moment we’ve all been waiting for! It’s Clarke and Bellamy time! First off in my long list of Clarke and Bellamy fics to post for this week is a request I got all the way back at the beginning of Shipweeks for a Clarke and Bellamy one. The person decided to go stealth on me and idn’t give me their name, but, whoever you are, I hope you like it!

~

“Bellamy Blake, this is Wells Jaha, my oldest friend.” Clarke introduced the boys who immediately began staring each other down. Wells nodded to Bellamy with a notable lack of enthusiasm. “Pleasure.” He lowered his voice so only Clarke could hear. “I think.” Bellamy just stared evenly at Wells. “Chancellor junior." 

AN: So, I have the coolest English teacher. She let me turn in letters between Clarke and Bellamy for a writing assignment because she, too, is into the 100. So I’ll put them up here for you all to read, too.

~

Dear Clarke,            I understand that bringing down the mountain was hard for you. I can’t imagine having to decide whether to kill everyone or let the people we had to sacrifice everything for die. I tried to help – to make it feel like maybe it wasn’t completely your decision to make. Did I make it worse? Did I only make you feel more responsible for everything that’s happened since we landed? You want to take everyone’s sins as your own so they don’t have to answer for them.

Bellarke Ship Week

Happy belated birthday to @onedaytofly!! I’m so sorry this is so late. I hope you like it though! I had a fun time writing it!

where person A is a classically trained musician living in the flat next to person B, a crazy jazz musician, and one day they realise that they irritatingly catchy tune they’ve had in their head all week is actually an improvised jazz version of the music they’ve been practising for their orchestra

[AO3]

Clarke was pissed.

Actually no she was beyond pissed. She had enough of her next door neighbor continuously playing jazz music so loud that Clarke could hear it through the walls (granted the walls were extremely thin) especially since Clarke herself was a classical violinist who had been trying to learn a new piece for the past several weeks.

But now the beautiful classical piece that Clarke had been trying to learn was tarnished by the awful jazz she had been forced to listen to. Clarke was pissed and now she was out to get someone.

She sets her violin down carefully before storming out of her apartment and makes her way to her next door neighbor’s. Clarke had never met the crazy jazz lover who lived beside her. She had only caught the glimpse of a brown ponytail amidst dozen of moving boxes.

And so with a scowl on her face Clarke bangs on her neighbor’s door ready to take this bitch down.

But when the door opens and Clarke is greeted with the sight of a beautiful person, all her anger flies out of mind and she can only stare at the girl in front of her with wonder.

Wonder that is soon dashed when the girl opens her mouth.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Clarke stares at the girl for a little while longer before she shakes her head and the scowl she had on her face moments before reappears.

“Are you the one who play the obnoxious jazz music all the fucking time?”

The girl arches a single perfectly shaped eyebrow and Clarke is instantly jealous. She has always wanted to be able to do that. Again Clarke has to shake off the sudden admiration for this girl who had ruined her life and suddenly for the life of her, Clarke couldn’t remember why.

“If I am what’s it to you? It’s a fucking free world. Besides jazz is not obnoxious.”

Clarke was pretty sure that by now her eyebrow was twitching slightly and all she manage a sickly sort of smile as she grinds out through her teeth, “Because of your shitty taste in music I now have a jazz rendention stuck in my head whenever I try to practice the classical piece I’m supposed to be learning for work!”

The girl suddenly smiles, leaning against her doorway with a now pleasant look on her face instead of the glare that she had been sporting when she had first opened the door.

“So you’re the one from next door.”

“I am. Are you gonna stop playing the jazz so I can get some work done?”

A grin appears on the girl’s face and it makes her all the more attractive which in turn makes it harder for Clarke to hate her.

Clarke was most definitely not immune to a beautiful woman’s charms.

“Nope, have you ever thought that you should just play the jazz version? I’m sure it sounds infinitely better.”

Clarke growls, her eyebrow drawn low on her face as she tries to control her frustration at the fact that this girl was still arguing with her.

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound good. It actually does. I just really want to know the original so that I don’t have to deal with my boss yelling at me when I start playing the wrong fucking notes.”

The girl bites her lip (Clarke wonders what it would feel like if she did it to her instead) a thoughtful look growing on her face.

“Since you put it that way I guess I will give this to you. On one condition.”

“Shoot.”  

“Let me hear you play.”

Clarke’s surprised but she only asks, “Why?”

The girl’s shoulders move in a shrug and there’s a spark in her eyes.

“I want to hear classical for once. But I also want to hear the jazz version.”

“Fine, give me two weeks.”

“I’m holding you to it then.”

Clarke just rolls her eyes before spinning on her heel and making her way back towards her own apartment. From behind her she hears, “I’m Raven!”

She only raises a hand slightly yelling back, “Clarke!”

In exactly two weeks Raven finds a ticket to Clarke’s recital and afterwards when she’s laying in Clarke’s bed, after hearing her play jazz on a violin and the fact that they had sex with one another, Raven just murmurs, “Jazz is so much fucking cooler.”

AN: Hello! I know it’s been a while since I posted for shipweek, but I have something short for the couple-that-almost-was at the end of season 2. It takes place after the end of season 2, possibly during season 3. Enjoy!

~

“I figured it out.” Raven declared quietly, setting down her wires and looking warily at Wick. Wick looked up from his own work. “What?” It didn’t look like she had made any sense of the wires on the table between them. “I figured out why I slept with you.” There was a notable tremor in her voice, her eyes now glued to the table.

THE 100 SHIP WEEKS: murphamy

THE 100 SHIP WEEKS: murphamy