#heart! Bellamy is the best Bellamy

[okmcintyre]

Bellamy Blake Appreciation Week: Day 7: Free Day- ‘Big Brother © Bellamy Blake'

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

putting out so many bellamy fics, here's the playlist I listen to while writing fics

Bellamy Blake - Arkadia

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ You had a dream about your best friend Bellamy, and you try to suppress the feelings by avoiding him. Bellamy doesn't let this slide. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: smut, piv, praise, nsfw, gentle Bellamy

His hand glided along my thigh, sending shivers down my spine. My breathing became erratic the closer and closer he got to my cunt, the place I craved his touch the most. Bellamy leaned down, giving sweet kisses to my stomach area before I finally felt his fingers on my pussy, sliding up and down coating his fingers with my slick.

I just about came when he pushed two fingers inside me, thrusting them up and hitting my sweet spot.

"Hey!" Octavia, my roommate, yelled.

I shot up instantly looking around taking in my surroundings, a wave of disappointment washing over me, suddenly missing the dream I had just awoken from. Why had I been dreaming of Bellamy of all people? He was my best friend!

My disappointment was replaced by my guilt.

"You've been asleep an hour past breakfast, wake up." She spoke, putting on her black boots and lacing them.

An hour? What happened to my alarm clock?

Octavia noticed my confused look towards my clock, "You didn't set it last night,"

Shit.

I climbed out of bed and almost tripped on my blanket. I walked to my dresser and pulled out a fairly cute outfit. Shorts, a tank top, and Bellamy's guard jacket I still needed to return. But I knew he'd have to steal it back to get it.

"Where are you off to today?" I asked Octavia, putting on my socks and then my brown boots. I saw her stand and grab her sword, placing it in the holster on her back.

"Gonna spend the day with Lincoln, makes things less boring around here." She opened the door to our room and left.

Leaving me to only my thoughts memories of the dream came flooding back to me. It was like I could actually feel his touch on my thigh. His big, calloused hands, his soft kisses to my stomach, touching me as if I were a porcelain doll.

Shaking my head I snapped out of my thoughts, I had things to do today.

Walking to my little clay shop beside the Armory I sat down on my stool. Reaching under the desk I brought out a lump of clay I left to dry.

I had a clay shop, though it wasn't really a shop. Bring me the dirt and I'll make you whatever you want. It made the days less boring and brought smiles to everyone's faces, people would commission things for their partners, moms, siblings, and friends. Knowing my little sculptures could bring such joy to the people of Arkadia was a nice feeling.

Slapping the lump down on the desk I rolled up the sleeves of Bellamy's jacket and began kneading it, this is where most of my strength came from. Once I was sure it was soft enough to work with I sat back down, dunked my hands in the water, and began sculpting. Taking mini lumps from the big piece of clay.

I had finished two before my thoughts caught up with me.

Kneading the clay again, I thought about Bellamy's hands, mouth, hair, and body. How good he'd feel against me.

"Clays not gonna knead itself," Bellamy spoke in an amusing tone.

I hadn't even noticed I stopped kneading.

The sight of Bellamy made my heart drop, without his usual jacket you could see his muscular arms, a sight I needed engraved in my brain.

Looking at his face my eyes were wide, I had hoped he didn't notice my unusual staring. I needed to get my head out of the gutter.

"Yeah, just got distracted," I replied, an awkward laugh coming after.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, bringing his hands to his hips. He definitely noticed.

"You okay, princess?"

That name again. I practically melted every time he called me it, though I'm sure he meant it in a friendly manner it just sounded so good coming from him.

I let out a series of stutters before taking a breath, "Yes," It came out as more of a question than an answer, and I knew he didn't believe me.

Then finally, my saving grace came.

"Oh, look, customer," I say, the look on Bellamy's face still evident.

A customer from two weeks ago approached my shop, Bellamy looked between us and took his leave.

A part of me felt bad knowing I had pushed him away slightly. But id never get any work done if he was standing there looking so damn good-

"Hi, I'm here for the fox statue. For my boyfriend." She greeted me with a bright smile, clearly full of excitement to see the final result.

I returned her smile and nodded, "I remember! Let me get it,"

A few hours had passed since then and the sun was setting, many happy customers, and I somehow seemed to get a lot of work done.

Closing down shop I washed my hands in the bucket of water and walked towards the mess hall, feeling my stomach rumble.

Entering the room I looked to see what was on the menu for tonight's dinner.

Fish and tomatoes were an odd pairing but given our resources it was fairly good.

Grabbing a plate from Sinclair I searched for some familiar faces, to which I only found Bellamy.

Thinking the previous feelings for him faded I walked up and sat in front of him, a smile greeted me at my presence.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, getting comfortable and taking a bite of the fish. Not very flavorful.

"They headed to bed early,"

"Why didn't you?"

"Wanted to ask what was up with you earlier,"

Thank god I had finished my food, the intensity of his stare would've made my appetite vanish.

"I've just been distracted," I stated, hoping he would just take that for an answer. But I knew he'd keep budging.

"With?"

"I'm getting pretty tired, I'm gonna head to bed," I stood abruptly, not wishing to continue the conversation further. How else am I supposed to tell me best friend I had a wet dream about him and everytime I see him it comes back to me?

"Bye, bell," I flashed a nervous smile and quickly walked off before he could say anything else.

I knew I'd have to confront him sometime, but I'd hold off as long as I could until then.

Making it to my shared room I quickly opened the door and entered, Octavia probably spending the night in Lincoln's room. I was grateful for that, tonight I just needed to be alone.

Getting undressed I put on a pair of pajama shorts and just used Bellamy's jacket as a top.

Climbing into bed I slid under the covers, making sure to set my alarm this time.

Staring up at the ceiling for a good hour my mind clouded over with thoughts of Bellamy, it was expected at that point. I hadn't even noticed my hand going towards my cunt, rubbing myself through the fabric. Letting out soft, quiet moans at the feeling. As good as it felt I needed more.

My hand slid underneath the shorts and I teased my entrance, just as Bellamy did in my dream. Pushing into myself with two fingers the feeling was amazing, but imagining It was Bellamy again wasn't enough. I craved him, and in my lusty haze, I shot up and headed for the door.

I couldn't believe I was going to do this, I couldn't believe how badly I needed him.

I made a B-line for Bellamy's room, knocking on it. I was practically banging on it. A few seconds passed until I was met with the sight of Bellamy towering over me, his messy hair going in all directions, his shirt that hugged his arms so well, and his sweatpants that barely hid anything.

"Is your roommate in there?" I ask breathily.

With a shake of his head, I connect our lips in a messy needy kiss. The feeling of our lips touching for the first time makes me shiver, Bellamy makes no motion to push me off, instead, he pulls me inside, shutting the door with his hand. He picks me up and carries me to the bed, needing this just as much as I do.

He only pulls away when he sets me down on the bed, unzipping the jacket to find nothing under making him slyly smirk, my face flushed with an unimaginable redness. My mind now catching up with my heart.

This was really happening.

His hands gently fondle my breasts, soon snaking their way down my sides, to my hips, and then to my shorts, with every touch of his fingers, my body shivered, bathing in the attention from his hands and eyes.

He easily took off my shorts, the cool air hitting my now vulnerable warm cunt.

Bellamy was at a loss for words, never seeing something so beautiful before. The bulge in his pants now makes the material stick out in a more than noticeable way.

The feeling of embarrassment caught up with me, I moved my arms to cover myself but was stopped by Bellamy's tight grip.

"Don't," He demanded, letting go of my arms once I nodded shyly.

With a flushed face, Bellamy lowered his pants, revealing his cock. He took ahold of my legs and placed them on his shoulders, "Okay?" He asked, making sure this was really happening.

"Yeah, that's... that's good," I replied, reassuring him.

He guided his tip along my slit, coating it with my wetness as a type of lube. The feeling of him being so close to me made the hairs on my neck stand up.

I had wondered for a moment what people would think of us, but too in the moment to care.

Readying himself, Bellamy looked down at me again, taking in the sight of me with his jacket on.

"Please, I needed this," I muttered, "Needed you,"

"Feelings mutual, princess,"

And before I could reply he pushed in slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size. I let out a moan as he bottomed out in me. My hands reaching out for his, he met me halfway and grabbed ahold of them. His big hands intertwined with mine. He placed our hands above my head and gave them a squeeze.

I squeezed back, hard.

"Can I move?" He asked, he so badly wanted to move. But he wanted our first time together to be gentle, sweet, and full of genuine love.

I nodded hesitantly, preparing myself for the pain and pleasure.

Bellamy pulled out and pushed back in at a slow pace, agonizing to him, it took everything in him not to just slam back into you at a rough pace.

The moans I let out sounded like heaven to him, he couldn't help but join in with his own grunts of pleasure, the way I would tighten around him started to become too much, and he couldn't keep his own sounds in.

"You're doing so good," Bellamy assured between groans, his voice had become gruff.

I bit my lip to try and stay quiet, fearful the room next to him might hear.

Bellamy didn't like that at all, "Let them out, princess,"

And when I shook my head 'no', he slammed into me hard, forcing my moans out as I squeezed his hand more.

"Bellamy!" I moaned out.

This only egged him on, loving the way his name sounded on my tongue.

As much as it hurt, it felt amazing how well he filled me, and how easily he could hit my sweet spot.

"Faster, please," I begged, staring into his eyes.

"Alright, princess,"

Bellamy leaned in closer making my legs bend more, letting him go deeper inside me. His pace began to speed up, making my moans grow louder in volume.

Every thrust was a new place deeper inside me, I felt my legs begin to shake, the familiar feeling of ecstasy creeping up my stomach.

He must've caught on, "It's okay, cum on my dick, princess, go ahead,"

His reassuring words put me over the edge, "Bellamy, Bellamy!"

My back arched as I reached my high with Bellamy fucking me through it.

My climax brought him even closer, the way my pussy clenched around his cock was overwhelming for him. His thrusts became sloppy and unhinged. He tried to keep it in, to make this moment last longer.

His brows furrowed while he stared into my eyes, saving this memory forever, "You're so beautiful," he breathed out, "So pretty with my jacket on,"

With a few more erratic thrusts he quickly pulled out, finishing on my stomach, bringing a newfound warmth all over.

Full of hesitance he let go of my hands, taking off his shirt and cleaning his cock and my stomach off while catching his breath. He threw the shirt into a bin in the corner of his room. Now taking a place next to me, wrapping his arms around my exhausted body.

"Been dreaming of that since we met," He whispered in my ear, placing kisses all over my neck.

I smiled.

If only he knew.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[marauder-misprint]

Best friend Bell

Sirius Black x reader

microfic - 525 words

cw: fluff, jealousy

Of all the things Sirius expected to see when the taxi pulled up to your house, your legs draped across another boy’s lap was not one of them. He felt as if he had walked into an alternate universe, rather than a muggle suburb. You weren’t dating, but it still felt like something gripped his heart. 

That feeling, however, dissipated as soon as you saw him, your face lighting up as it always did. You jumped to your feet and ran out to greet him.

Sirius was a bit shocked when you invited him to spend a week with you and your family. He hadn’t been expecting; James was the only one who had invited Sirius over in the past. When you asked him if he’d like to, he jumped at the opportunity. Why wouldn’t he? Another week away from Grimmauld Place? Yes please. And getting to spend more time with you? Of course. 

“Sirius!” you called as you crossed the yard. “You’re here!”

The boy you left behind looked mildly upset at your sudden departure from his proximity. He remained seated but held his watchful gaze on you. 

“Of course I’m here,” Sirius said as you hugged him. He picked you and spun you around. “Spend more time with you and not with my family? Win-win!” 

You looked up at him with a wide smile before grabbing his hand to lead him back to the house. 

“I doubt it’ll measure up to the Potters’ but…”

“Ah, don’t bother,” Sirius sighed, dropping your hand so he could sling his arm over your shoulder and pull you into his side, making you giggle. “You could live in a dumpster and I’d happily spend my week here.”

As you approached the front door of your house, the boy continued to watch you, not saying anything. His expression was soft when he looked at you, but when his eyes drifted to Sirius and his arm around you, his expression hardened. 

“This is Bell!” you said. 

The boy stood up and held his hand out to Sirius. He was at least a full head taller than Sirius. Sirius let go your shoulder to shake his hand. The dots were slowly connecting in his head; you had talked about your childhood best friend, Bell. Sirius had been under the impression that Bell was a girl.

“Bellamy Watson,” the boy said.

“Sirius Black.”

If you could sense the immediate tension between the boys, you didn’t show it. You maintained a joyful smile on your face as the boys shook hands before both turning to look at you rather than each other. 

“Oh, this week is going to be so fun! Come on, Sirius, let’s get you settled. See you later, Bell!”

You grabbed Sirius’ hand and pulled him into the house, leaving Bellamy on the porch. Sirius gave him a winner’s smile before he entered the house and closed the door behind him. As you gave Sirius a tour of your house and introduced him to your parents and younger sister, the main thing going through his head was that he couldn’t wait to write to the boys about this Bellamy. 

Tags: @navs-bhat, @bruxa0007

[grimesve1l]

Never again

Summary: When the grounders take you in retaliation for what happened to Lincoln, Bellamy does everything he can to get you back

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of weapons, kidnapping, torture

"Bellamy!" Octavia yells as she shakes Bellamy awake. "What, O?" he groans. "We can't find Y/n." she tells him. Bellamy's heart drops. "What do you mean you can't find her?" he asks quickly getting up. "We've looked all over camp and she's nowhere. People think the grounders took her."

"You don't?" Bellamy asks grabbing his gun. "Lincoln wouldn't do something like this." Octavia argues. "Yeah it's not like he stabbed one of us with a poisoned knife or anything like that." Jasper says joining the two. "Enough, there's no point in arguing when we all know the grounders did it."

The three walk to the drop ship where Monty and Clarke are. "How long has she been gone?" Bellamy asks. "We don't really know. They must have got her sometime during the night when everyone was asleep." Clarke replies. "How do we even start to look for her?" Monty asks. "He's right guys she could be anywhere." Jasper agrees.

You let out a scream as a grounder makes another cut in your shoulder. He yells at you in a language you don't understand. "I can't understand you! I don't know what you want from me!" you yell. Suddenly a woman walks in with two men close behind her.

"You can understand me." She says plainly. "My name is Anya, your people hurt my people. I don't take kindly to such things." she adds. "So you want to torture me like Lincoln was?" you ask. "You admit what you did?" Anya replies.

"It wasn't me. I told him to stop but our friend was dying and Lincoln was the only one that could stop it." you say defending yourself . "Who did you tell to stop?" Anya asks stepping closer to you. This makes your heart drop "I won't tell you." you say. "You will." Anya says taking a hot blade and pressing it to your chest.

"Octavia." Clarke says trying to get her attention. "Yeah?" Octavia replies. "You have to find Lincoln. He could know where they'd take Y/n." "Okay I'll see what he says." she says as she sneaks away." "Hey guys I got the map." Monty says grabbing the groups attention.

"Should we send out search parties?" Jasper asks. "No that'd make it easy for them to pick us off." Bellamy says. "Why am I just now finding out Y/n's missing?" Raven says joining the conversation. "You were with Finn we didn't want to bother you." Monty says.

"Well I wanna help. We know what the grounders can do. The longer she's gone the less likely we're gonna find Y/n." Raven argues. "We know Raven we're trying to figure out how to go about this first." Bellamy argues back.

"Okay I know this isn't the best idea but what if we asked Lincoln? I mean we know he'll at least listen to Octavia." Monty suggests. "No we're not getting a grounders help to rescue Y/n from the grounders." Bellamy says.

"Um guys where is Octavia?" Jasper asks confused. "I told her to get Lincoln. Bellamy I knew you wouldn't want it but he's all we've got." Clarke admits. "Dammit, don't you realize that puts Octavia in danger too?" Bellamy Yells. "Look, you may not want to believe it but it's clear Lincoln won't let anything happen to Octavia.

You wake up to freezing water being thrown on you. You had lost consciousness after so much pain had been inflicted upon you. A grounder pulls you up by your hair before throwing you at Anya's feet. "You will tell me who tortured Lincoln or you'll pay for it and i'll wipe your people out anyway." she says.

"I'll never tell you." you tell Anya. "You'll have to kill me." you add. Anya commands one of the grounders in their language before you feel a prick in your back and the world goes dark.

"Guys, Octavias back." Jasper says pointing at Octavia as she walks up to them. "What did he say?" Clarke asks. "He said they're probably torturing her for what Bellamy did to him. He also said we won't find her unless they want us too." Octavia says defeated.

"So we just have to accept she's gone? No, I'm getting her back." Bellamy says grabbing his gun. "Grounders!" Someone outside the drop ship yells. The group runs outside to see what's happening. They see three grounders on horses approaching the camp.

The woman in front appears to be the leader while the two in the back act as security. People immediately grab their weapons ready for whatever could happen. "Everyone stay calm and do not shoot." Clarke says as her and Bellamy approach the grounders. "We know you have Y/n." Bellamy says to the female grounder as she gets off her horse.

"I take it she means something to you." she replies. "She means something to all of us." Clarke answers. "Please we just want her back." she pleads. "You had no problem when it was my people being tortured. My name is Anya and it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of my clan."

"Anya we mean you and your people no harm but if you don't let Y/n go we'll be forced to retaliate." Bellamy says. "You are the ones that started this by landing in our home. "Anya argues. "I'm tired of talking either give us Y/n or start fighting." Bellamy says reaching for his gun.

"Bellamy don't!" he hears you call out from the woods behind Anya. "Y/n!" he yells back to you. "Where is she?" he asks approaching Anya. "Close enough to watch but too far to help." she replies. "What do I have to do to get her back?" he asks. "Tell me who tortured Lincoln." she says.

"It was me." Bellamy replies with no hesitation. "Take me and leave her." he pleads. Anya calls out to the grounders behind her and two more dragging you with them. "Oh my God." Clarke says at the state that you're in. You have cuts and bruises all over and seem to be unable to walk on your own.

"I see now why she refused to tell me. She was protecting you." Anya says. The grounders hand you over to Clarke and Raven before heading towards Bellamy. Once they grab him Anya stops them. "Don't mistake my mercy for forgiveness. This fight is far from over." She says before getting back on her horse and leaving with the other grounders.

Bellamy doesn't even wait until they're fully gone to run to the drop ship where Raven and Clarke took you. He rushes to your side watching as Clarke tends to your wounds. "Bellamy?" you say reaching out to touch his face. He puts his hand over hers "Y/n i'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you." he says. "It was my turn to protect you." you reply with a smile.

"Never again. You hear me? It's not your job to protect me. I'm supposed to take care of you." he says stroking your hair as Clarke finishes. Once Clarke leaves Bellamy moves to sit beside you as you both talk. "What did they do to you." he asks looking at the cuts and bruises littering your body."

"Nothing I couldn't take." you reply. "My brave girl." he says pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll never let something like this happen again. I promise." "Bellamy stop blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault." you say. Eventually the medicine Clarke gave you goes into effect and you fall asleep. Bellamy doesn't sleep at all, wanting to ensure that you're truly safe.

A/n: omg this was my first time writing for the 100 and it was actually rly fun i'm fs gonna start writing more like this

Find more of my stuff here :p

[racoonblossom]

The fog | MDNI

summary: When out hunting the acid fog horn is blown and reader has no choice but to find shelter in a small bunker with Bellamy. To pass time he shows her how to stand while holding a weapon, although it quickly turns to more.

pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

warnings: use of y/n, cursing, virgin!reader, oral (f receiving), slight hair pulling, slight choking, fingering.

word count: 1.4k

note: sorry if this isn't the best it's my first time writing but I hope you enjoy it!!

The cold air was strong as the voices of fellow delinquents started getting drowned out by the distance created. You were hunting in a small group which consisted of Clarke, Monty, Jasper, Octavia and Bellamy. Bellamy Blake, the designated leader ever since you landed on the dropship. You weren't going to deny that he was, well hot. Your eyes regularly travelled to where he was, admiring the way he walked, talked, hunted-.

"Y/N?" A voice cut you out of your trance and your head snapped over to Clarke who had been walking next to you. You quickly put on a fake smile "hm?" you hummed softly stealing one more glance at Bellamy, who was glancing back at you. "We are going to split into smaller groups, were you listening?" Clarke tilted her head placing her hands on her hips. "Yeah-" you chuckled nervously "splitting up into groups, is that really a good idea? Yknow... with the grounders and all." You adjusted the bag on your back waiting for Clarke to reply but before she could Bellamy cut in, "of course it's a good idea, princess. It was my idea." God was he cocky. he stood there with his signature smirk across his lips making your stomach do flips. "Lets go, your with me." Your eyes widened slightly, you were with him? Hunting with him? You nodded quickly hurrying as you noticed Bellamy begin to walk.

Not even 5 minutes later you were rushing through the woods, one hand clutching the bag draped across your back and the other out trying to stabilize your running. The familiar sound of the horn had filled your ears making you and Bellamy freeze in place before he insisted he knew a place to go to for shelter. Camp was too far away so now you were trying your best to keep up with Bellamy, struggling not to trip over the exposed roots that were scatted around the floor.

Bellamy slid onto his knees brushing some leaves and dirt before revealing a small door. You were looking around frantically as you saw the fog flowing its way closer. "Bellamy it's getting closer!" You nervously shouted as your heart pounded in your chest. "Get in." Was all you heard from the man as you glanced down, the small door now open. You didn't need to be asked twice, you threw your bag down the hatch before sliding yourself in. Bellamy was close behind you as he shut the door with a groan. You collapsed against the closest wall you could find panting heavily from the run, "Princess? Are you alright?" Your eyes widened slightly as Bellamy kneeled in front of you, his eyes softer then ever. You've never seen him look so... caring? "Yeah- yeah Bellamy I'm fine" You panted running your hands through your hair as Bellamy collapsed next to you grumbling some curses. "Fuck. Fuck!" He groaned leaning his head back against the wall, "we're going to be stuck in here for hours." You sighed closing your eyes and focusing on Bellamy's pants.

The bunker was small, only with a couch and what looked like a tiny kitchen. Some time had passed and Bellamy had grown more restless. He had spent the past 10 minutes practicing his stance when holding a weapon, you sat against a wall watching him closely. Your gaze was drawn to the way he flexed his arm and how the sweat rolled down his forehead. "Get up." Your brows furrowed as you stuttered over your words, "g-get up? why?" Bellamy turned to face you, "I want to see what you've got princess." That smirk, that goddamn smirk has your knees weak within seconds. You nervously stand up making your way over to Bellamy. He easily towered over you. "Turn around..." he whispered lowly, to which you complied. Bellamy placed a hand around your waist, the other over your hand making you hold the weapon. Your breath hitches as you feel his muscular chest press against your back. His scent flowed through your nose, you had to bite you tongue to hold back a whimper. "Legs apart" he mumbled lowly using his knee to push you legs apart. You let a small yelp slip as he pressed against your back, it took you a second to notice the hardening against your ass.

You shuddered trying to squirm forward, to which Bellamy pulled you back. "Something wrong princess?" He whispered hoarsely into your ear, your stomach was doing summersaults. "I- Bell..." you whispered back nervously. "Shhh... be quiet princess" his hand around your waist began to travel down your side, "just seeing you sitting there staring at me." He clicked his tongue chuckling lowly "sittin' there looking all pretty, and god," you gasped loudly as you felt a firm squeeze be given to your ass. "this ass" he groaned turning his head to place a soft kiss to your neck. You were speechless as you stood there frozen in place, it felt like a dream. "bellamy- I've never-" He let go of your hand wrapping it around your throat softly, "I said quiet. Be a good girl, yeah?" Your eyes were wide as he spun you around to face him, pining you against the closest wall, a hand squeezing your ass as the other had a firm grip on your throat. Before you could think he pressed his lips to yours, his mouth devouring yours. You easily melted into the kiss as he trailed his hands down to your thighs lifting you up. You let out a soft moan as your legs locked around his waist, your hands tangling in his curls. Bellamy broke the kiss, using one hand to tug your hair back to expose your neck. You whimpered as you felt him start to devour your neck, most likely leaving marks. "Fuck" he growled as he backed you up placing you on the couch as he rested his forearms by your head, bringing his lips back to yours in an urgent, desperate kiss. He pushed his tongue into your mouth making you a whimpering mess, "haven't even touched you properly and look at you.... pathetic." he growled lowering himself on your body, leaving kisses along your stomach.

You had never seen this side of him before, less then an hour ago he was caring and soft. You got pulled out of your thoughts when you felt calloused fingers roughly pulling your pants and panties down. "Bellamy" you panted trying to squirm away but his hands had you held by the hips. "Yes princess?" He said through a smirk as his index finger teased your folds. You whimpered trying to squeeze your thighs together, "I-I've never...." Bellamy simply clicked his tongue using his hands to spread your thighs. "I know, I'll make it feel good for you princess. I promise." He whispered as he began trailing kisses down your inner thigh. You nodded quickly leaning your head back against the uncomfortable couch. Bellamy placed your legs on his shoulders before diving in like a starved man. He flattened his tongue on your clit making you gasp, your hands flying to his hair. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he mumbled sending vibrations through you. He began to move his tongue, switching between your entrance and your clit. You were whimpering, moaning and squirming beneath him. Your chest moving up and down from the pants you were letting out. Your back arched off the bed as he dipped two fingers into your entrance, his mouth wrapping around you clit in a slow tortures pace. "Bellamy" You moaned breathlessly as your thighs squeezed his head which only seemed to egg him on. "Keep saying my name princess, tell me how good this feels." All you could do was nod at his words, an unfamiliar coil in your stomach beginning to form. "s-so good" you whimpered squeezing your thighs tighter. With one final curl of his fingers against your spongey walls, flick of his tongue on your clit, had made you coming undone below him.

You panted as Bellamy worked you through your high, he pulled away to look up at you with a smirk. You looked down between your thighs seeing his chin covered in slick. He crawled up your body putting your chin between his fingers, he leaned in to kiss you but you placed your hands on his chest your eyes glued to the slick on his chin. "Baby you got to let me kiss you, if we're going to be doing this more you have to get use to this." You looked into his eyes before nodding softly, with confirmation he crashed his lips on yours. This kiss was more passionate and soft, you could taste yourself on his tongue which made your head spiral. He softly moved up to kiss your forehead, "you were so good... so good" he whispered tugging you into his side as you felt tiredness fall over you.

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs To You” - Part 24

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series masterlist<3

i’m so obsessed with eternal sunshine deluxe omg. so i added some lyrics from twilight zone to the fic 🫧 listen while reading for the full experience ;) i love ariana sm ugh

Summary: When the world goes quiet, all that remains is the bond you can’t escape.

Warnings: violence, death, kidnapping, power imbalance, possessiveness, manipulation, emotional tension, stalking, implied violence, murder planning, toxic relationship dynamics, yandere

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Homelander

Fluorescent lights hum overhead. Monitors flicker. Homelander storms into the cyber security room like a bomb with legs.

A half-eaten bagel drops from an intern’s hand. Half the department stands on instinct, others pretend not to notice him like prey freezing at the sound of a predator.

He doesn’t have time for their fear.

“Bellamy. Andrew Bellamy. Find him.”

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The weight of it, the way the syllables curl into a threat—it’s enough. No one dares to ask why.

A senior analyst stammers as they start pulling up records. “L-last known address flagged as a psychiatric facility. Bellwick. Escaped two weeks ago—uh, incident involved a missing nurse and a stolen car—”

“I know that already,” Homelander snaps. “I want to know where the fuck he is now.”

The analyst flinches, nods, types faster.

“Pulling financials. Power grid activity. Phone pings…”

On the screen, a deed flashes.

BELLAMY FAMILY PROPERTY

Utilities turned on exactly two weeks ago.

There it is.

“That’s it,” Homelander breathes. “That’s the fucking place. It has to be.”

Ashley barrels in, phone to her ear, trying to keep up.

“Homelander—please—can we pause before you go nuclear again—let’s bring someone in, loop in the FBI, limit the risk of potential blowback, you can’t just—”

“Blowback? If you speak again,” he says without looking at her, “I’ll peel your face off in front of your team. How’s that for blowback, Ashley?”

Ashley freezes.

Homelander grabs the paper with the address, glances once at the screen, then blasts through the ceiling—shattering lights, monitors, hearts.

The room is left in stunned silence, the scent of scorched air lingering like a warning.

⸻

You

The cold no longer bites — it clings, fused to your skin like it belongs there. The chains rattle softly when you move, though you rarely bother anymore. Your arms feel like lead, your wrists raw and swollen, possibly infected.

But none of that compares to the ache of a far crueler question:

Has he forgotten you?

Did he?

Could he?

Is he the reason you’re here?

It’s a strange feeling, one you don’t recognize. You’ve never been in love. Never been the type to obsess. And yet, he happened — a force of nature you never saw coming. And somehow, you don’t regret it.

Even now, chained and broken and alone…

You’d still choose him.

Because for the first time in your life, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Or did you dream the whole thing? Were you actually in a nightmare? Different dimensions, stuck in the twilight zone. Is this a black and white scene? If so, you’re in the gray one.

And if Homelander knows… if he’s the reason you’re here—

You hope he wins Best Actor. Because you had him completely wrong.

Footsteps trail down the stairs, pulling you away from your thoughts. Andrew comes down the creaking steps, humming something tuneless.

“Hey, princess. Still alive?”

You don’t answer. But you don’t scream anymore, either. That’s not survival.

He plops down across from you, legs crossed like a camp counselor.

“You’ve gotten so polite,” he muses. “I always knew you’d adapt. Trauma has a way of softening the edges.”

You say nothing. Stare past him.

But then he tilts his head and smiles in a way that makes your blood go cold.

“He’s coming, by the way.”

Your body stiffens.

“Don’t just sit there,” Andrew grins. “It’s your boyfriend, after all. Aren’t you excited?”

“How… how do you know he’s coming?”

“Eli told me.”

You blink.

“He said, ‘Soon. When the sun is just above the trees. When the guilt cracks the glass.’”

You freeze.

“I didn’t get it at first,” Andrew says with a casual shrug. “But then I saw the news—that little segment about me, the photo of Eli. And suddenly it all clicked. He probably saw it, lost his shit, broke the TV. Eli was always good with riddles.”

Your heart thuds.

“So, yeah,” he nods, cheerful now. “He’s on his way. Today’s the day.”

Andrew stands up, walks over to an old desk in the corner. He opens a drawer, pulling out a syringe.

“The only virus that can kill Supes. I don’t even know if it’ll work,” he admits, voice light. “But just the thought… of that godlike bastard realizing, even for a second, that someone could hurt him?”

He smiles, slow and serene.

“That’s enough for me.”

“Why?” you whisper. “Why kill yourself to kill him?”

“Because I have nothing left,” he shrugs. “Eli’s dead. My parents are gone. The girl I loved left. I’ve got nothing but revenge—and even that’s borrowed. But him?”

He kneels again, eye-level with you.

“He gets everything. So if I can take just one of those things back—his power? His life? You?—then I win.”

He tucks the syringe into his back pocket like it’s nothing more than a pen.

“Today’s the day.”

And you realize he wants to die. He planned to die. But not before taking Homelander with him. Not before making you watch.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Andrew’s expression doesn’t change.

That calm, unnerving smile stays frozen on his face, like he’s rehearsed this moment a thousand times.

“To you?” he repeats softly, like he’s genuinely considering it for the first time. “Hmm.”

He stands again, slowly pacing, dragging his fingertips along the stone wall, his boots echoing in the stillness.

“You’re a bonus,” he finally says. “Collateral. A symbol. You’re the prize he thinks he gets to keep.” He turns to face you. “But you’re the one who led him to Eli. You’re the one who made him feel… jealous. Weak.”

He shrugs again, as if he’s discussing a weather forecast.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Your heart pounds in your ears.

“I could let him watch you die.”

“I could use you to lure him closer.”

“I could inject you instead and let him watch you fall.”

He tilts his head.

“So many options. But I like to improvise. Eli always said I had a flair for drama.”

Your lip trembles despite yourself. But you don’t speak. You can’t give him the satisfaction.

Andrew walks closer again. Kneels once more—just close enough for you to smell the stale sweat and the sour scent of metal on his clothes.

He leans in.

“You know what scares men like him the most?” he whispers. “Not losing power. Not even dying. It’s losing something they love. Something they can’t control. Something fragile.”

His eyes gleam as they study yours.

“He’ll hear you scream before I kill him. That’s the part I’m most excited about.”

Your stomach turns. The urge to vomit claws up your throat, but you hold it in. Barely.

He reaches up and tucks a blood-matted strand of hair behind your ear.

“Smile for him when he gets here. Make it look real.”

Then he stands, dusts off his jeans, and moves toward the stairs.

“I’m going to tidy up. He deserves a proper welcome.”

And just like that, you’re alone again. With your heart hammering. With the echo of your chains. With the syringe still in his pocket.

And the knowledge that he won’t stop—unless you stop him first.

Today’s the day.

Just… not the way he thinks.

⸻

You sit in the silence.

Every part of you is sore. Your limbs are numb. Your throat is raw from screams you haven’t let out. You feel like you’ve been hollowed out and filled with fear.

But something else is starting to rise inside you now.

Not fear. Not grief.

Rage.

A heat you didn’t know you still had pulses in your chest like a second heartbeat. You close your eyes and try to focus. You know the steps in the floor he avoids. The one that creaks—he skips it every time. He’s a creature of habit. Predictable.

He’s unstable, but he likes control.

He has the syringe. The plan. The show he wants to put on.

And you’re the only one who can stop him.

You look around the room and spot a piece of broken glass in the corner. A small shard. Sharp enough.

Your breathing slows.

You inch toward it.

You wait.

Footsteps again. Heavy. Casual.

Humming.

That fucking humming.

He’s coming back.

Fuck.

You barely grab the glass and tuck it under your thigh just as the door creaks open.

He steps inside, hands clean now, the same smile on his face.

“He’ll be here soon,” he says lightly. “I made coffee. You should probably fix your hair. Wouldn’t want to look like a mess in your final moments.”

He walks toward you. Crouches in front of you again. He looks at you like you’re an art piece he doesn’t understand but wants to ruin.

“Any last words?” he asks, amused.

You stare up at him. You let the silence stretch. You let your lip quiver just a little.

You see the spark of satisfaction in his eyes. Good. Let him think he’s already won.

Then—

You move.

The shard slices across his cheek, deep and fast. He screams, stumbling backward, clutching his face.

You’re already on your feet, yanking your wrist free from the chain. You don’t know how you have the strength, but you’re not questioning it.

You’re running—no, crashing into him. Slamming him into the wall. He swings, hits your jaw, but adrenaline keeps you upright. You elbow him in the throat. He gags.

You don’t hesitate. You reach into his pocket. The syringe.

You hold it in your hand, fingers slick with his blood.

“Don’t,” he rasps, voice different now. “Don’t do this.”

You stare down at him. Panting. Shaking.

“You were never going to make it out of here,” you whisper. “You were never going to let me live.”

His eyes shift—looking at the door behind you.

And that’s when he makes a mistake.

“He’s almost here,” he mutters, like it’s some sacred thing. “I can feel him.”

You pause.

Your heart skips.

You don’t know if it’s true.

“Maybe I’ll just stab you with it instead. Imagine him flying in, only to find you dead at his feet.”

That’s the last straw.

You lunge.

You slam him back down. Again. Again. You don’t even realize you’re screaming.

The syringe clatters away.

You don’t need it.

You don’t want it.

All you want is for him to stop breathing.

So you make sure he does.

You don’t feel your hands anymore. You don’t hear your own screaming. You just see his face caved in, neck at the wrong angle, mouth frozen in that final, awful smile.

You sit there, panting, soaked in blood—his, yours, it doesn’t matter anymore.

And then—

The door slams open.

You flinch. You brace for him—for Homelander—

But the voice that fills the room is someone else’s.

“Oi—lad didn’t stand a chance, did he?”

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tags: @raginginkedslut @emily048 @lilyalone @harlowedoktravelsthemultiverse @helreyy @forest-green-1994 @rainbowangel

[dfortrafalgar]

Hi, saw that your request were open so I was thinking on asking you for Law X fem reader where law has a crush on reader and starts hanging out and sees that one of reader’s guy friends is being way too touchy and starts touching her butt, he is also being mean to her and at one point even hits her in the head.

How would he react, I was thinking of a fluff ending.

thank you so much for your request anon!!! i really loved this one, it was super fun to write! it was definitely a bit of a struggle though, as much as i enjoy writing heavier topics, physical abuse is tricky for me to deal with, but i hope the fluff at the end delivered some resolutions <3

also, i actually really really like Bellamy as a character. i think he's super cool, but i couldnt think of anyone else who could really fit in the role he's playing in this fic LOL

Rectify

Law x Fem Reader

Law’s feelings for you are forced to clash with a loathsome person in your life.

Warnings: descriptions of brief physical abuse, implications of past abuse, very mild suggestive language, modern setting, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

By the time Law realized his crush on you had surpassed its normal, healthy limit, it was far too late for him.  It certainly didn’t help to see you sitting next to Bellamy, tossing joking remarks back and forth.  All of you were in the same friend group, so it was truly impossible to avoid your interactions with the much larger, stronger, arguably more handsome man.  And the thought began to make Law’s blood boil.

Because Bellamy was everything Law wasn’t.

You and Law had been friends since childhood, growing up in the same neighborhood and running with the same crowd.  You were familiar with his best friends and his dad, just as Law was familiar with your closest peers.  Law liked to think that, as the years went on, the two of you grew closer and closer.  You were always far nicer to Law during his awkward teenage years, and there were a few times where the raven-haired boy grew hopeful that you might one day return his budding feelings for you, but that day never came.  And then you started college… and then you met Bellamy.

On the contrary to the black-haired medical student, the blonde was known around the entire campus as ‘The Hyena,’ and for good reason.  He was ruthless in every sport he played, a malicious, sadistic grin constantly pulling at his thin lips striking fear into the hearts of his opponents.  He was strong, freakishly so, with muscles that could rival that of an Olympic weightlifter.  His blonde hair was a hit with the ladies, and partnered with his darker skin tone and his assortment of badass tattoos, it seemed like a no brainer that women would be falling all over him.

Law just internally hated that one of those women seemed to be you.

Despite you having confirmed on multiple occasions that you and Bellamy were simply friends that you met in one of your classes, and that you truly had no interest in men like him, Law couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest.

Bellamy certainly seemed to like you.  A lot.

Law watched from across the room, a plastic cup still completely full of an unidentified cocktail in his tattooed hand and the large group of friends you shared laughing and chattering around you in the living room of the house party, as one of Bellamy’s large, strong hands began to circle around your waist, gripping the soft flesh of your ass through your pants.  The sensation made you jump, trying to scurry away from him with a nervous smile on your soft lips as you awkwardly laughed at the feeling, but Bellamy tried to pull you in closer.  The couch cushions sunk under his weight, creating a deep divot that made it hard to stand up.

You lightly shoved Bellamy’s chest, mumbling something about standing to get another drink, before you were finally able to haul yourself up from the warm sofa and make your way toward the kitchen in the back of the house.  Law stood from his metal folding chair, abandoning his cup on a random end table.  He followed you diligently into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Oh, hey, Law!” you returned his greeting, mild surprise filling your eyes.  “I didn’t hear you behind me!”

The man shrugged, leaning against the counter.  You awkwardly fiddled with a glass bottle of beer, using the edge of the counter to pop open the metal cap.  Law eyed you suspiciously.

“You don’t drink beer,” he stated, watching as you simply held the chilled bottle in your hands without making a move to drink it.

You smiled in response, but the gesture didn’t reach your eyes like it normally did.  “I know… I just needed to get some air away from the living room for a little bit.”

Law couldn’t hold back the question fighting on his tongue.  “Is Bellamy bothering you?”

Pointed stares were shared between the two of you before you finally, lightly, shook your head.  “No.”

“Are you sure?”  Something told him you were lying to his face.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you groaned.  “Law… I know you don’t like him… but he’s really not that bad.”

“You didn’t seem to like it when he touched your ass,” the med student grumbled.

“Law, I don’t want to fight,” you retorted, firmly.  “I don’t like it when Bellamy touches me, anywhere.  I know he’s into me but I’m not into him, but I don’t want to cause a scene at a party I was graciously invited to.”

You had a point.  Liquor was running as free as tap water within the stale, stuffy walls of the house, and saying or doing something that could potentially cause a fight wouldn’t be ideal.  Especially since the police had already been called multiple times to a house just a few steps down the sidewalk from this one.

Law wished he could open his mouth and just tell you, tell you everything that had been on his mind, how he realized just recently (and yet somehow far too late for his liking) that he’s madly in love with you, how he doesn’t want to see you be treated poorly by someone who you call a friend, how he wished so desperately that you would see him in the same way, how he longed for your touch.  But instead, he stayed silent, watching as you anxiously eyed the brown glass of the untouched beer bottle you still gripped in your hand, as if the bottle was the only thing keeping you glued to reality.

“I’m fine, Law,” you blurted.  He hadn’t said anything more.  With your eyes cast down to the floor, you left your beer bottle sitting open on the countertop before retreating back into the thick of the party.

The raven-haired student waited a few moments before returning as well, his metal folding chair unfortunately having been taken by two sweaty economics students locked in a very passionate, very inappropriate, makeout session.  He pushed his way through the mingling crowd back toward the couch where he spotted you perched on the arm of the sofa this time, Bellamy practically flush against your body on the end cushion, his palm on your ass, fingers squeezing intermittently.  The blonde was locked in an intense conversation with the man in front of him, and the look on your face screamed uncomfortable.  Law felt his stomach flip over.  Your eyes caught him again, and you frowned.  A frown so deep that it left shadows under the creases of your lips.  You looked… aged.  Stressed.  Afraid.

But Law kept his distance.

You didn’t want a scene to break out.  You could handle yourself on your own.

Bellamy’s hand trailed from your ass down your thigh, your skin still protected by the rough denim of your jeans, but that didn’t stop his fingers from crawling around the front of your body and dipping between your thighs.  The feeling of his intense hand trying to pull you apart in front of another man, without your consent, made you visibly tense up and pull away from him.  Your motions finally made the blonde’s attention snap to you, his dark eyes narrowing and somehow becoming even more villainous.

“Don’t run off,” he snapped.  “You’re sitting right here with me, all pretty like that.”

You steeled yourself.  “Then I don’t want you touching me like that.  We’re not an item, Bellamy.”

“I don’t care,” he huffed back.  “I’ll touch you however I want.”

The music of the party, the chattering voices slurred with alcohol, faded completely around Law as he watched the argument unfold before his eyes.  The only sounds entering his ear drums were the disgusting words leaving Bellamy’s mouth, the demands, the insults.  The dim lights of the living room did very little to hide the way your face contorted in discomfort, trying to pull away from the blonde athlete even more.

“Bellamy, I said no,” you snapped.  

No one seemed to be paying any attention to what was happening, all eyes everywhere but where they should have been.  When you were being closed in on by a man much larger than you, no one was looking.  You were alone.

And Law was somehow so far away.

“I don’t remember ever needing to listen to you,” the hyena chortled, his voice gravelly and nasally.  “You should be lucky that you have a guy like me who’s into you.  You’ll never be able to do better than me.”

You opened your mouth once more to shout a retort, but you were cut short.  Bellamy’s clenched fist connected with your lower jaw, swiftly knocking you to the ground in a stunned shock.  You fell like a lead brick, hitting the ground with a force that Law somehow felt through the soles of his shoes, rattling his bones and making his head spin.  Your hands blindly scraped against the floor searching for your bearings, completely disoriented from the blow that had just met your bone.  You brought one of your hands to your mouth, cupping your palm over your lips as your eyes closed, trying to block out every overwhelming color and sound filling your brain with a nuclear buzz.

And yet.  No one.  Noticed.

Law cleared the floor in an instant, just as Bellamy was yelling something about your worth being determined by your partnership with him.  The fist inked with DEATH clocked the blonde in the temple, the short, stubbly blonde hairs leaving phantom singing pain on Law’s fingers.  The hyena stumbled backward, catching himself on the arm of the sofa you were previously sitting on.

For a brief moment, the med student was gloatingly proud of himself.  His father was a retired marine after all.  Law knew a thing or two about a good punch.  His thoughts were quickly retired, however, as he crossed the crowded floor to your side, quickly helping you to your feet and pushing through the crowd with you hunched over in his arms, tripping over your heels as he rapidly escorted you to the door.

Don’t cause a scene.

Bellamy didn’t follow, and Law counted his blessings.  “Hey, your apartment’s on this street, right?”

With a hand still cupped over your mouth, you nodded.  Your eyes were barely keeping themselves open, what was visible of your face contorted in a muted agony.

If Law was any less collected, he would’ve stomped that hyena’s face in with the heel of his boot.

The two of you were barely getting anywhere with your afflicted state.  Law scooped you into his embrace, your legs wrapping around his hips and free hand clenching the soft fabric of his shirt as he carried you back to your apartment with one of his arms carefully supporting your rump.  Thank goodness you lived so close, in a converted townhouse on the corner of the same street.  Law still lived in on-campus housing across town, which was less than ideal for his tastes.  He helped you fish your key from the pocket of your pants, keeping you in his grasp while he pushed the door open and entered the narrow entryway of your home.  Your roommate was gone for the week visiting family on the other side of the country, so your place was completely dark and quiet.

Law flipped the light switch on just in time to watch you scurry to the first floor bathroom as soon as your feet touched the hard wooden floor, leaving the door open as the light in the smaller space flicked on as well.  He quickly followed, standing in the doorway as you finally pulled your hand away from your mouth.

A few droplets of blood were dotting your palm, but when you opened your mouth, a worryingly large glob of bright crimson exited past your lips and splattered in the white porcelain of the sink.  Law’s stomach lurched as he watched you try in vain to spit out the metallic liquid, your entire face scrunching up as the nauseating sensation and taste.  Your shoulders shuddered with the feeling of your gag reflex bobbing in the back of your throat, forcing your stomach to hold its contents as you released drops of bright red into the white porcelain of the wash basin.

The med student’s first thought was that one or more of your teeth had been knocked loose or even came out permanently, but nothing solid landed in the sink.  As you began to calm down from your spitting into the basin, your eyes began to well with overwhelmed tears.  You gazed at Law in the mirror, his golden eyes locked on yours as a small dribble of blood and spit slid down the skin of your chin.

Wordlessly, your friend stepped into the bathroom with you, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and wetting it with warm water from the tap, wiping away the bloody drool that left your lips.

“I know it hurts, but I need you to open for me,” he muttered, gently holding your cheek in his hand as the other one balled up the toilet paper and discarded it into the open toilet bowl.

When you opened, Law reached into the back pocket of his speckled jeans and procured his phone, clicking on the flashlight without looking at his screen.  He shined the light into your mouth and, to his relief, didn’t see any chipped, broken, or missing teeth.  He did, however, see a substantial gash on the side of your tongue.  You must have clamped down hard on the muscle with your teeth thanks to the force of the punch.  The thought made a silent rage build in Law’s gut.  He turned you around and closed the toilet lid, sitting you down and proceeding to rummage through your medicine cabinet.  

He handed you two pieces of gauze wrap from below your sink.  “I need you to hold these against the cut on your tongue, okay?  Don’t remove them until I say so.”

You diligently followed his orders, taking the dry cloth from him and inserting it painfully into your mouth to rest on the stinging wound that cut your muscle.  You watched as he continued to rummage through your supplies, pushing aside boxes of tampons and toilet cleaning chemicals and finally finding what he was hoping he would see- a brown plastic bottle.  He stood from his crouching position, the bottle in his firm grasp.  He spun the item around to gaze at its expiration date and hummed approvingly under his breath.  He quickly exited the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few fleeting moments.

While he was gone, you were able to take a better look at your face.  While one of your cheeks was puffed up slightly with the clump of gauze against your tongue, you could still make out the swelling of your skin on the same side.  A large, black and blue bruise was quickly blooming along your jaw and up your cheek, your fractured capillaries leaking into your epidermis.

Law finally returned, a very small cup in his right hand and a bottle of diluted bleach in his left from the kitchen.  You watched as he poured a small amount of clear liquid from the brown bottle into the small cup before running the sink tap and filling it the rest of the way with plain water.  He handed the cup to you with no instructions before lightly spritzing the porcelain basin with the diluted chemical, running the tap once more and washing your blood away, making sure to scrub the entire bowl.  He finally turned around to face you.

“I need you to swish that in your mouth for a few seconds, and then spit it out in the sink,” he directed.  “It might taste kind of bitter.”

You carefully pulled the gauze out of your mouth, wincing as some of the light fibers pulled against your wounded muscle, but followed his directions and tossed the contents of the small cup back into your mouth, swishing with your cheeks puffed, trying to focus the liquid onto your wound.  Just as Law warned, the taste was bitter, vaguely salty, but definitely not pleasant.  Law finally stepped aside from the sink after a long 30 seconds and let you spit.  Both the gauze and the clear solution you rinsed your mouth with were lacking blood, meaning your wound was already on the clotting and healing path.

After sputtering for a few moments, the faint smell of diluted bleach filling your nose from the sink, you placed the cup down on the counter and gazed at Law, who watched you with a keen eye.  “What was that?”

“Hydrogen peroxide and water,” he uttered.  “To disinfect your tongue.  Luckily, peoples’ mouths tend to heal much faster than other body parts, so after a day or two of discomfort, you should be back to normal.”

Cleaned and disinfected, you finally started to let your mind sink on the gravity of the situation, your heart rate increasing and your eyes once again growing heavy and blurry with impending tears.  You watched as Law, avoiding your gaze with a deep frown on his lips, grabbed your rinse cup from the counter and turned to head back to your kitchen.  You quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt sleeve to stop him in his tracks, the fuzziness of your vision causing the colors of his form in front of you to waver and warp, but that didn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his lean torso in a hug, the warm wetness from your eyes soaking the cotton of his clothing.

“Please don’t leave,” you uttered into his chest, your body trembling.  With the adrenaline finally subsiding, the pain radiating from your jaw grew more and more noticeable.  Every movement seemed to irritate your bruised bone, and talking felt like trying to articulate with a lead weight attached to your mandible.  

With your face smushed into his clothing, you didn’t see when Law placed the cup back down on your counter, only hearing the soft tap of the plastic against the linoleum surface.  His arms carefully, as if to not shatter you where you stood, wrapped around your waist, one hand coming to rest comfortably in between your shoulder blades, his fingers sprawling out over your spine before retracting and collecting some of the fabric from your own shirt into his inked fingers.  It felt like his hand was made specifically to bring you comfort.

—

It took some time for you to calm yourself down enough to relocate from the bathroom doorway to the small living space you typically shared with your roommate when she was home.  You listened with your head resting on a soft pillow and an ice pack nursing your jaw as Law busied himself between your bathroom and kitchen, washing the cup, cleaning off the bathroom counter and sink for a second time, and disposing of the small garbage bag where your bloody gauze had ended up.  Your living room was dark, with the only light coming from the kitchen, just enough to catch glimpses of Law’s shadow moving about the space.  Your face ached from the force of crying against your bruised jaw bone, your eyelids uncomfortably sliding over your corneas, dry and fragile after expelling what was easily the rest of the water in your body.

After what felt like an eternity, Law finally emerged from the kitchen, carefully approaching your laid out form on the couch.  He kneeled in front of you and adjusted the ice pack against your cheek slightly, the tenderness of his fingers ghosting over your own.  Your heart galloped in your chest.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess,” you groaned, forcing your dry eyes closed to avoid Law’s pensive stare.

“You didn’t drag me into anything.  I acted on my own,” he replied stoically, his hand remaining within close proximity to your own.  His tattooed fingers flexed a few times, eager to take your hand in his, but he eventually relented and let his limb fall back to his side.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, curling your legs up toward your chest.  “But you could’ve gotten hurt.”

Law bit the inside of his cheek at your words, his own chest clenching in disdain, not for you, but for the hyena that had left you feeling such a way.  “I don’t care if I get hurt if it means you stay safe.”

When your eyes opened, they were small.  Weak.  Like you had been fighting some unknown battle in your skull for as long as you could remember.  You truly looked tired and ragged, and Law wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms until all your life’s woes flushed away like the aftermath of a rainstorm.

“Law…” you began, your mouth opening and closing a few times, at a loss for what to continue with.  “I never really liked Bellamy.”

The man stayed quiet, his lips pulled in a taut line.

“But sometimes, when you get really uncomfortable, all you can do is laugh and smile.  Because you hope that acting friendly and cordial and cute will keep you safe from danger.”  Your voice was so fragile, your words mumbled as you continued to cradle your jaw with the thawing ice pack against your skin.  “I never wanted to hang out with Bellamy, but he scared me so much and I just… didn’t know how to say no.  I didn’t want to get hurt.”

Again.

Law’s own jaw clenched, suppressing a bubbling rage as he relived the blonde’s actions from a few hours prior.  A deep-rooted maniacal side of the medical student wished he could gut the D-1 athlete in his sleep, but what good would that do?  It certainly wouldn’t help you in the way you needed it.  And the fact that your attempts to protect yourself had only led you to getting attacked in the first place made his blood boil in his veins.  But he needed to stay calm for you.  Anger solves no issues.  He learned that from Cora, his best friends, and now you.

A bout of anger got you out of the situation you were stuck in, and now you needed comfort.

“What…” he began, stumbling.  “What do you want from me?  To help you?”

After a few brief moments of silence, the only sound cutting through the darkness being the faint wrrr of your air conditioning unit, you finally spoke up.  “Can you spend the night with me?”

Law blinked once, then twice.  “Here?”

“Yeah.  In my room.”

He gazed at you through the darkness, his golden eyes widened.  “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

You emitted a small gust of air through your nose.  “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Fair enough.  “Do you have anywhere you want me to sleep?” he asked, helping you sit up against the couch cushions and carefully easing the ice back off of your jaw.  The swelling had gone down substantially, but it would still take a week or two for the bruise to fully heal.

One of your hands remained planted against his shoulder, gripping the cotton of his shirt.  “In my bed.  I feel safe with you, Law.  It’s really okay.”

After receiving your words of affirmation, Law stood from his crouched position and guided you to stand through the darkness, his hand in yours and the other clutched around the ice pack.  He discarded the item on your kitchen counter to be dealt with in the morning, keen on getting you comfortable under your secure blankets.  You gladly followed him, stepping carefully through the dark home into your bedroom where you blindly navigated to your bedside lamp, pulling down on the cord to activate the light.  The warm orange glow flooded the room, making the two of you squint your eyes.

Law could finally see just how bad your bruise really was.  A large, black and blue swollen welt tinged with red the exact size of a harshly clenched fist was carved across your skin.  The sight of the impact was much more swollen compared to the other side.  You had taken a hit most street thugs hadn’t ever dealt with.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it,” you asked, voice still paper-thin and anxious. 

“It’s… definitely a decent injury,” Law responded bluntly, inwardly cursing himself at his awkward language.

You didn’t hold it against him, however.  Instead, you stripped off your clothes, crawling into bed and leaving the other side open for Law.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asked, one more time.

You nodded.  “Yes.”

Law followed your initial lead, taking off his jeans, followed by his shirt and socks, leaving only his boxers covering him.  He carefully crawled into the space in your blankets you had left open for him, laying on his back like a plank with his hands awkwardly draped over his abdomen.  You pulled down on the cord to your lamp once more and flooded the room with darkness.

The med student felt the mattress dip as you moved closer to him, effortlessly draping yourself over his body, as if you were made to fit into the crevice of his neck.  His hands found their position around your back and waist yet again, surrounding you in the comfort you had been longing for all night.  You nestled your face into the soft skin of his neck, slow, deep breaths setting a hypnotic, drowsy pace for the both of you to fall into slumber.

No words had to be exchanged, not until the morning at least.  Your legs tangled together and your hearts beating in sync did all the talking for now.

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 1

A/N: Man, I've been so back and forth on whether to publish this one or just keep it to myself forever. This series is very near and dear to my heart, so I'd love to hear your thoughts if you enjoy it.

An extra special thank you to my besties @ccab and @atleastpleasetelephone for all their encouragement. Thanks for putting up with me! I love you both! 🩷🩷🩷

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: this will eventually have smut, but is pretty fluffy/angsty for now. Elvis is sad and dealing with self esteem issues. There's also a small mention of drug use. Jo smokes cigarettes.

Word count: ~2.4k

Elvis looks at himself in the mirror again and tries not to cringe. At least he was able to zip the jumpsuit and get the belt on. The silver phoenix spreads across his torso, distracting from the rest of him. But he's not used to seeing this old man looking back at him. He touches his face gently, his rings glittering in the light, and sighs deeply. It wasn't so long ago that he was a sleek, handsome sex machine and now he's this. Old and tired and fat. Washed up. That's what the magazines say: washed up.

“EP, it's time!” Jerry hollers from the hallway. Elvis takes another deep breath and groans when the belt cuts into his stomach.

It's December of 1975 and Elvis is back in Vegas to finish the engagement he started in August that landed him in the hospital yet again for exhaustion. He's not sure he'll make it through this one either, but he's determined to try. If he doesn't have anything left to offer on stage, what the hell is the point?

He closes his eyes and turns from the mirror, walking to the door. Before he opens it, he rearranges his face into a smile. Nobody needs to know how he feels.

******

Jo looks in the mirror and moves a few pieces of her hair around on her forehead. When she came home with her pixie cut a few weeks ago, her best friend almost lost it. Evelyn couldn't believe Jo'd cut off all of her beautiful hair right before she was supposed to be in her wedding. But Jo was tired of messing with it. This was much easier and she liked the way it made her look young and fun. At 36, she was eager for anything that made her look younger.

She touches her cheek and looks at her eye makeup in the mirror. She has on the kind of thick black liner and mascara that makes her eyes look wide and doll-like and was popular when she was younger. Makeup is a little less dramatic now, but she likes this look better than the current style.

Her lavender shirt is almost see-through and her navy pants hug her ass just right. She's got a nice body, for her age, having been blessed with a fast metabolism and well-proportioned curves.

“Jo Bellamy, you're a catch.” She says it out loud to the mirror and nods affirmatively. Evelyn laughs from the bathroom and hollers amidst her giggles.

“Yeah, too bad you're too busy runnin’ to let a man catch you!” Jo looks at her friend and crinkles her nose.

“I'd stop for the right man.” Evelyn snorts.

“He'd have to be a hell of a man to stop you.”

“Yes, he would. I won't settle for anything less than the deepest love.” Jo smiles dreamily as her friend walks back into their hotel room. They've come to Vegas to celebrate Evelyn's last weekend as a single woman.

“Is that why you insisted on seeing Elvis? You think he's the right man?” Evelyn pokes Jo in the side and they both giggle.

“Ah yes, Elvis Presley. The man that no one else can live up to. He's the reason I've been single all these years, you know.”

“Oh, I'm aware. And it's ridiculous. We've seen him how many times, now?”

“Six. But I've never been on the front row. This is a big deal.” Evelyn looks at Jo nervously.

“You're gonna do something crazy, aren't you?” Jo pretends to be offended.

“Moi?! Noooooo, never.” But her reassurance is not received. Evelyn has known Jo since second grade. The only thing you could count on with her was that she'd do something crazy.

“Just don't get us kicked out again.” Jo laughs, thinking of how she'd been carried out of a venue in ‘72 for trying to get to his car after a concert.

“Hey, the show was over!” Evelyn rolls her eyes. She's been there for Jo's whole Elvis-obsessed life, from seeing him in 1955 on the back of a truck in a parking lot in Memphis, to being at the train station when he left for the army, to seeing every single movie, to flying to Vegas when he opened there in 1969. She used to be just as big of a fan, but that faded when she met Phil five years ago. Now, she just thinks it's time for Jo to grow up and move on like she did. Jo winks. “But I make no promises. I'm getting desperate.”

She has no intention of moving on. Elvis is the only man who has ever been consistent in her life, even if he doesn't know who she is. And now he's not married anymore, so she feels better about trying to catch him. Tonight might be her only chance to be this close to him. She's not going to waste it.

******

Elvis moves around the stage, doing his normal show routine. He's absolutely exhausted and the crowd's energy feels off. Honestly, he's not far from just walking off and calling it a night. He doesn't even kiss anyone during Love Me Tender, just tosses a couple of scarves into the audience.

“Something's wrong.” Jo mutters to Evelyn.

“What do you mean?”

“With him. Something's wrong.” Evelyn studies her friend. Jo is watching him like a hawk, her eyebrows pulled together.

“You know, I read a thing about him being on drugs-” Jo whips her head around.

“No. This is different. He's sad. He's not high.” Evelyn wonders how she can tell the difference, but doesn't push her on it.

By the end of the show, though, Jo is trying desperately not to cry. Her heart is broken for him and she can't even really say why. When he starts the last song, she stands up.

“Jo! Josephine! Sit down!” Evelyn pulls on her hand. Her heart is in her throat, but she can't let him leave the stage like this.

Elvis notices a girl in the front row standing as he starts his last song. He can't believe he made it to the end of the show and he's ready to leave this stage and never come back. But he can't take his eyes off the girl that's standing. He thinks about going to the edge of the stage to give her a scarf and a kiss, but before he can do that, she acts.

Jo pushes her chair to the edge of the stage, stands on it, and drags herself up onto the platform. Evelyn is yelling at her, but she blocks her out. Her heart is pounding and she knows she has about three seconds before Charlie grabs her, so she goes straight to Elvis.

Elvis is in shock as the girl runs to him and launches herself into his arms, wrapping herself around his neck. It's certainly not the first time a fan has come up on stage, but it's been a little while. He relaxes a bit when she kisses his cheek and whispers.

“It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay. We still love you. I still love you.” He smiles a bit and whispers back.

“Thank you, dear.”

And then Charlie is there with his arms around her waist and she lets go of Elvis and allows herself to be carried away. He almost grabs her hand, but he stops himself. She's got to be crazy, coming up on the stage like that. But she didn't feel crazy; she felt desperate, and he understands that feeling. Even beyond that, her words were kinder than anything he's experienced in a while. There's a kind of ache to hear more of what she has to say.

The show ends and he calls Joe over to him.

“Find her.”

“Which one?”

“The one who came up on the stage, dumbass.” Elvis knows they're wasting precious time and she might be leaving.

“Oh. I'm sorry boss-”

“What did you do?”

“It wasn't me! They escorted her out of the venue.” Elvis feels rage bubble up inside him.

“THEY KICKED HER OUT?!” He bellows and kicks over a chair backstage.

“Security did! They figured you would want her gone!” Joe is obviously starting to panic. Elvis rounds on him and his eyes burn with anger.

“You find her. Go now. Find her.”

“But boss you could have-”

“I WANT HER.” Joe knows when it's time to stop arguing and get to work, so he nods quickly and takes off. “I want her…”

He whispers it quietly to himself, a little surprised that he said it. There hasn't been anyone he's wanted in a while. But something about her was different. He tells himself he's just curious to figure it out. That has to be it.

******

Jo grunts in frustration again and lights her cigarette while they wait for a cab to take them back to their hotel.

“Well, what did you think was gonna happen?!” Evelyn is less than amused by Jo's decision to run up on the stage and get them both kicked out.

“I dunno. This, I guess. But I still wanted to see the end of the show. Also it felt like he wanted to talk to me more.” Evelyn rolls her eyes so hard Jo is afraid it might be painful.

“You just want that to be true.”

“No! You weren't up there with him.”

“Jo, this is ridiculous. He's a celebrity. You don't know him.”

“I don't have to know someone to know when they're in need.” She stamps on her cigarette as a cab pulls over to them and they climb inside. Evelyn tells the cabbie where to take them and they ride in silence the rest of the way.

Joe gets to the sidewalk just as their cab pulls away. He doesn't know it was her in the car, though, so he runs around frantically looking. After almost an hour, he goes back to Elvis, ready to have his tail kicked for failing.

“You didn't find her?” Joe shakes his head sullenly and looks at the floor. Elvis has his jumpsuit off and his pajamas and robe on. He'd lost hope after about twenty minutes of Joe being gone. “Oh well.”

Joe leaves and Elvis turns all the lights off and closes the curtains, leaving the room almost pitch black until he turns the televisions on. He swallows a handful of pills and settles on the couch.

They'll head back to Memphis in a few days and he'll have some peace. Still, some part of him wishes she wasn't out of his life forever. Just another woman to add to his list of regrets. Too bad he doesn't even know this one’s name.

******

Evelyn and Jo leave Vegas the next day and go back home to their normal lives. Evelyn is preparing for the wedding and Jo is watching the papers for news that Elvis is back in Memphis. Despite all the urging from Evelyn to give up, she's not quite ready to quit. Not when it seems like he might need her. Evelyn just rolls her eyes and tells her she better not miss the wedding because she's chasing an impossible dream.

When she sees that Elvis gets home a few days later, Jo leaves work in the middle of the day to go to the Graceland gates. He's already inside when she gets there and joins the throng of women outside waiting for him. She's instantly annoyed by their presence and knows he must be too, so she turns and walks back to her car.

Elvis is in his bedroom with the lights off. He peeks out the window briefly and sees the crowd at the gates. It should encourage him, but it doesn't. He's convinced they're all just dreaming of a man that doesn't exist anymore. He closes the heavy drapes and crawls into bed, even though it's the middle of the day. Even reading sounds too daunting right now, so he just closes his eyes. He knows he won't sleep, but he can at least pretend to try. Maybe it'll help this feeling go away.

Jo comes back to Graceland at about 1:30 in the morning and is excited to see that all the other fans have gone home. She stands at the gates for a bit, but it's so cold that she starts to lose feeling in her fingers and toes. The house is mostly dark, but she knows he's in there and he's probably awake. With his performance schedule in Vegas, there's no way he's not a night owl. She walks back to her car to warm up and look around for some way she can try to get his attention. Then she sees it in her backseat: a ream of copy paper. There's a black marker in her purse that she keeps there just in case, so she digs it out. She writes on the paper in big letters:

I’M THE GIRL THAT HUGGED YOU ON STAGE ON SATURDAY.

She'll have to assume she's the only one that did that. She writes it on a few more papers and then scribbles her name and phone number on all of them.

“This is crazy.” Jo mutters to herself as she stands at the gates, bouncing from one foot to the other with an armload of paper airplanes. It takes her a few tries and she has to walk to a place where the wall is a little lower, but eventually she's able to sail all of them over to his side. She imagines that the guards are probably getting a good kick out of what she's doing, but she doesn't care. This is too important. But she's done all she can do tonight. The ball is now literally in his court. Hopefully, he'll see the notes and call her. Or he won't and she can finally put to rest this idea that she has stuck in her brain and go on that date with Alan from work. He's been after her for months now and she's running out of excuses to say no. Jo gets back in her car, rubbing her hands together for warmth, and says a silent prayer that Elvis will call.

******

Until Chapter 2!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

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[pers-books]

Jean Marsh, Actress Who Co-Created ‘Upstairs, Downstairs,’ Dies at 90

She not only helped develop the hit 1970s show, but also acted in it, and had a decades-long career in film, TV and theatre.

Jean Marsh as the maid Rose Buck in “Upstairs, Downstairs” in 1974 with Gordon Jackson as the butler Angus Hudson. Ms. Marsh was both an Emmy-winning star of the show and a co-creator. Credit: Press Association, via Associated Press

By Anita Gates

Jean Marsh, the striking British-born actress who was both the co-creator and a beloved Emmy-winning star of “Upstairs, Downstairs,” the seminal 1970s British drama series about class in Edwardian England, died on Sunday at her home in London. She was 90.

The cause was complications of dementia, the filmmaker Michael Lindsay-Hogg, her close friend, said.

“Upstairs, Downstairs” captured the hearts, minds and Sunday nights of Anglophile PBS viewers decades before “Downton Abbey” was even a gleam in Julian Fellowes’s eye.

The show, which ran from 1971 to 1975 in England and from 1974 to 1977 in the United States, focused on the elegant Bellamy family and the staff of servants who kept their Belgravia townhouse running smoothly, according to the precise social standards of Edwardian aristocracy. Ms. Marsh chose the role of Rose, the household’s head parlor maid, a stern but good-hearted Cockney.

The New York Times review, in January 1974, was affectionate. John J. O’Connor described the show as “a charmingly seductive concoction” and a “frequently marvelous portrait.” He praised Ms. Marsh for playing Rose with “the perfection of a young Mildred Dunnock.”

By the time the show ended its American run, it had won a Peabody Award and seven Emmys. Ms. Marsh herself took home the 1975 Emmy for outstanding lead actress in a drama series.

Robert Blake and Ms. Marsh hold up their Emmys for best actor and best actress in a drama series at the Emmy Awards in 1975. Credit: Associated Press

In 1989, 13 “lost episodes,” which had never been shown on American television, made their PBS debuts. The London critic Benedict Nightingale, writing in The New York Times, called that the TV-series equivalent of “belatedly discovering that Beethoven wrote the ‘Eroica’ as well as his other eight symphonies.”

Asked by The Telegraph in 2010 why the British were still so fascinated by the past and the master-servant dynamic, Ms. Marsh gave two reasons: “Because if you rose out of your class, you knew you had done well. And we like it because the past is not as worrying as the news.”

Jean Lyndsay Torren Marsh was born on July 1, 1934, in London. She was the younger of two daughters of Henry Marsh, a printer’s assistant and maintenance man, and the former Emmeline Bexley, who worked as a maid in her teens before becoming a bartender and eventually a dresser for the theater.

Jean was 6 when the Blitz (the Germans’ concentrated World War II bombings of London) began. At 7, she entered ballet classes and soon showed talent in acting and singing as well as dance. Rather than pursuing a traditional education, she attended theatre school, which her parents considered a practical career move.

“If you were very working class in those days, you weren’t going to think of a career in science,” Ms. Marsh explained to The Guardian in 1972. She summed up her options: “You either did a tap dance or you worked in Woolworth’s.”

She made her screen debut at 18 in a British television movie, “The Infinite Shoeblack” (1952), based on Norman Macowan’s stage drama, and her feature film debut a year later as the landlady’s daughter in “The Limping Man” (1953), a British mystery thriller that starred Lloyd Bridges as an American war veteran.

In 1959, Ms. Marsh went to the United States, primarily to be in John Gielgud’s Broadway production of “Much Ado About Nothing.” She played Hero, the virtuous young woman who fakes her own death for a noble reason.

That same year, she made a handful of American television appearances, ranging from a network production of “The Moon and Sixpence,” with Laurence Olivier, to an episode in the first season of “The Twilight Zone,” in which she played an alluring brunette robot created as a companion for a prisoner (Jack Warden) on an asteroid.

Ms. Marsh in 1956. In an interview in 1972, she summed up her career options as a member of the British working class: “You either did a tap dance or you worked in Woolworth’s.” Credit: Evening Standard, via Getty Images

In the 1960s, she stayed busy with television, stage and the occasional film. She had a tiny part in the Elizabeth Taylor version of “Cleopatra” (1963) as Octavia, the wife of Mark Antony (Richard Burton).

The idea for “Upstairs, Downstairs” was born, Ms. Marsh recalled in a 1992 interview with The New York Times, when she and the actress Eileen Atkins were house-sitting in the South of France for a wealthy friend.

“I’d love more of this,” Ms. Marsh announced one day, poolside. Ms. Atkins replied, “Then write down the idea,” referring to a concept they’d talked about for a series contrasting the lives of a wealthy Edwardian family and their servants. Ms. Atkins’s father had also been “in service,” working as a butler.

The series made its debut in 1971.

In the early 1990s, Ms. Marsh and Ms. Atkins teamed up again on a new series, “The House of Eliott.” A drama about two young women aspiring to be fashion designers in 1920s London, it was a modest success. They also worked together on the 2010-12 “Upstairs, Downstairs,” a sequel of sorts to their original creation.

There was some consternation about the timing of “Downton Abbey,” a British series about an aristocratic Edwardian British family and their servants, which arrived with great fanfare around the same time (2010 in England) as the new “Upstairs, Downstairs,” and covered much of the same ground. “It might be a coincidence,” Ms. Marsh said in an interview that was reported worldwide. “And I might be the Queen of Belgium.”

Sean Dempsey/WPA Pool, via Getty Images

Before and after the original “Upstairs, Downstairs,” Ms. Marsh’s career was wide-ranging, although Broadway was little more than a blip on her path.

After her debut in “Much Ado,” she returned in 1975 (at the height of her American television fame) to star in “Habeas Corpus,” a farce by Alan Bennett. Her final appearance was four years later as Tom Conti’s doctor in “Whose Life Is It Anyway?,” directed by Mr. Lindsay-Hogg, but she did continue to perform in regional theater in the United States. Her London stage appearances included “The Bird of Time” (1961), “The Chalk Circle” (1992) and “The Old Country” (2006).

One of her most memorable films was Alfred Hitchcock’s “Frenzy” (1972), in which she played a bespectacled secretary who finds her boss strangled and blames the wrong man. She also appeared in “Willow” (1988), a fantasy, as an evil sorceress, and “Return to Oz” (1985), as an evil princess.

Aside from “Upstairs, Downstairs,” she was probably best remembered on the small screen for her early appearances on “Dr. Who.” Her final television appearance was in an episode of the British series “Grantchester” that aired on “Masterpiece Mystery” in 2015. Her character, a cantankerous invalid, is found dead within the story’s first 15 minutes.

Ms. Marsh married the British actor Jon Pertwee in 1955, and they divorced in 1960. She also had long romantic relationships with the actor Kenneth Haigh and with Mr. Lindsay-Hogg.

Evening Standard/Hulton Archive, via Getty Images

“I have had partners who I have thought about marrying and who have thought about marrying me,” she told The Telegraph in 2010. “The problem was that we never thought it at the same time.”

There were no immediate survivors. Her older sister, Yvonne Marsh, died in 2017.

As for the secret of her youthful energy and her enjoyment of life well into old age, she seemed to say that being interested was the key.

“I’m enchanted by people,” she told The Daily Mail in 2013. “I look at them and think: ‘Oh, he’s bought a wonderful knobbly carrot.’ Everything I notice.”

[Source]

[bellamyblake]

Bellamy Blake appreciation week 2025

Day 7: Free choice: Bellamy calling out Clarke's name

Headcanon moment: He first started doing it after she left when they destroyed Mount Weather. He'd have nightmares, most of them ending with Octavia and Clarke getting melted right before him with his hand on the lever. Then there were others, even more horrible ones when he was in the forest and he was watching Clarke get torn apart by wolves or mountain lions or whatever twisted creature was out there while he was tied up to a trie unable to move. A lot of them were with the two of them standing on top of a pile of bodies, her looking at him, telling him she had to go as her face somehow started getting covered in blood and she fell down with the rest of the bodies in his feet. So many really...he couldn't count them even if he tried. He had stopped sleeping and only took on night guard shifts so that at night nobody would hear him scream in his room. At first Octavia, Monty or Harper would come by and ask if he was okay, his sister the most worried out of them all but he quickly shrugged her off. When he figured he was yelling too loudly, he shoved a piece of cloth in his mouth so he wouldn't be heard or covered himself with the pillow instead of sleeping on top of it. He quickly realized that he could avoid everyone when he took night guard shifts and "slept" during the day. He could barely catch more than twenty minutes, half an hour at best before he woke up. He was exhausted and he barely funcitoned but to everyone else he pulled up a brave face. He went on recon missions, he chopped woods, he hunted when he wasn't working and he took care of the kids in his own quiet way because he had promised her that. At night he lay on the floor-chest against the ground, pillow above his head and he woke up every time with her name on his lips, crying and most of all with his heart aching. It hurt so much, in the literal sense, it skipped beats and he felt light headed and when he couldn't breathe well, he would place his hand there and close his eyes. By then he had been thinking of her and talking to his broken heart and every time he did that he saw her before him as if she was truly there. "Hey, Clarke." he started talking to her at night when he couldn't sleep or when he was at the gates doing a shift. "Today's been hard. Jasper's not fine, we found him passed out outside the gates. He's lucky he wasn't attacked by an animal or the grounders. He drinks all the time now. Sometimes I take a glass or two of moonshine myself but it does nothing to fix things, nor does it help me sleep. Monty is plagued by nightmares like me and Harper still has trouble walking. The kids don't like it here, they ask me if we could go back to the dropship, just us but I shake my head. I can't do it without you there. I couldn't keep them whole and together. I can barely do that with myself. They don't know, nobody does...I worry what I'll do if one day it gets to be too much and I can't keep myself above water. I won't let it happen, though. I made you a promise." he'd rub his chest "I hope wherever you are, you are safe. I miss you." he wanted to add one more sentence, the one that truly meant everything but he couldn't, not even when he was talking to himself, he couldn't do it. He thought it, though and he looked up at the night sky above him-she was out there and she'll always be with him no matter what. He just had to remember that.

[itsonlybaby]

➣ 🇺​​🇳​​🇹​​🇮​​🇹​​🇱​​🇪​​🇩﹔ ​🇧​. ​🇧​​🇱​​🇦​​🇰​​🇪​ .ᐟ

ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis﹔venting to bellamy about your boyfriend, one thing leads to another. ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ ˚ cw﹔ bellamy blake x reader, smut, some plot, cheating ﹒ ◠ note﹔ hey… its been a while wc﹔ 1.7k  ˚ ۪˖𓏲 mood﹔ song

The stars are just barely visible through the cloudy sky when you find him, your best friend Bellamy, he was slouched on the edge of the dropship, forearms resting on his knees, hair wild from the wind. He always looked like this at night. Tired, guarded, lost in thought.

You dont say anything at first, you simply climb up beside him, knees pulled to your chest and arms wrapped tight around them like you're trying to hold yourself together.

You don't need to speak, he just glances over, eyebrows raised, mouth twitching into a small welcome.

"Rough day?" He asks softly.

"Rough week," you exhale.

Bellamy nods like he already knew. Maybe he did. He always seemed to know.

You let the silence hang in the air for a while, the sound of the camp filling it for you. Theres a tightening in your chest tonight, you felt it behind your ribs that no amount of deep breathing or forced smiles had seemed to fix.

"It's not even the camp," you mumble, eyes fixated on the dirt below, "Not the grounders, not the rations, it's-"

"Your boyfriend," Bellamy finishes for you, it wasn't a question, it was just the truth.

You nodded slowly, almost embarrassed he knew.

"I feel like I'm always trying," you admit, voice low, "Like I'm giving and giving, and there's just nothing coming back. No effort, no... closeness. Not really. Not where it counts."

His jaw tightens and you notice it, you always notice everything about him, even when you don't want to.

"He hasnt touched me in weeks," you confess quietly, it sounded almost muffled, "And when he does, its like he's not even there, like I'm some chore."

The second it leaves your mouth, you feel heat crawling up your neck and to your cheeks. You weren't sure why you said that much, you weren't supposed to dump it all like this, especially not the parts about... that. The part that felt too raw, too private, too *intimate*.

You cringe inwardly, heart pounding as you stare down at the ground below you.

Bellamy isn't judging you. You know he's not, he hasn't looked away or given that awkward little laugh people do when they're uncomfortable. He's just sitting there, listening and being him.

Still, your stomach was in knots, its not like you talk about this stuff with anyone, not even your friends, not even your boyfriend. And now you've spiled it like a girl desperate for attention. Youre not even sure what you want from Bellamy. Comfort? Advice?

Bellamy shifted a little, his arm brushing against yours, "Youre not an obligation," he says, voice deeper now, "Not to the right person."

His words hit you harder than you expected.

"I feel stupid for even saying it out loud," you admit.

"Youre not stupid," he says sharply, eyes on you now, not just a small glance, but really looking, "Hes the idiot, you shouldn't feel like this. You shouldn't feel unloved."

Your chest tightens, and you dont realize your hands are trembling until he reaches for one, his calloused fingers brushing over your knuckles. You should pull away, you should excuse yourself, but you dont.

You feel it then, the ache that's been building all week, maybe longer. The desperate need to feel wanted, seen, held.

His eyes glance down to your lips, and that's it, that's all it takes. His lips crash into yours like its been killing him not to. Its not soft. Its not careful. Its needy, all heat and desperation. Like he's been starving and you're the first thing he's allowed himself to taste.

You gasp and his hand slips behind your neck, pulling you closer and deeper as your fingers twist into his jacket, clutching him like you're afraid he'll stop.

There's nothing shy about what youre doing, his lips are warm and hungry.

You make a small sound as his other hand finds your waist, gripping you tight, pulling you flush against him. There's no space left between your bodies, no room for second thoughts.

When you finally break apart, just barely, breathing hard and lips tingling, his forehead rests against yours.

"I've wanted to do that," he pants, "for so long"

Your head tips back instinctively as his mouth trails down your jaw, then your throat, lips parted and breath hot, he's kissing like he's worshipping you. You feel his teeth just barely graze the sensitive spit below your ear, and your stomach flips, heat rushing low in your belly so fast it makes your legs feel weak.

"Tell me to stop," he mumbled against your skin, his voice is deep, unsteady, "If you don't want this, if this isn't what you-"

"I do," you breathe, too fast, too desperate, "I want this, I want you."

His groan is soft but deep, full of his restraint snapping, and you feel it in the way he lays your back flush against the dropship floor.

Your fingers slip under his shirt, following the firm lines of his stomach, the warmth of his skin under your palms. You've never touched him like this before. His breath catches when your hands drag over his ribs, and you feel him tremble, just slightly, like you're undoing him.

"I've thought about this," he says against your collarbone, voice barely above a whisper, "So many times."

You shiver against him, "Yeah?"

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, his lips red and his expression filled with raw need.

"I didnt think id ever get to touch you like this," he murmurs. "Didnt think you'd ever look at me like that."

You reach up and cup his face, "I always looked at you like that," you whisper.

And when he kisses you again, he does it in a wake like he means to ruin you for anyone else.

You can feel him, hard against your thigh, every bit of his restraint unraveling with each grind of his hips. His hand slips under your shirt, knuckles going slowly over your stomach until he pushes it up and over your head.

"Fuck," he whispers, eyes roaming over you, "Youre so fucking beautiful,"

Heat blooms in your chest, youre not used to being looked at like this, not worshipped, not wanted in a raw way.

He dips his head and licks over your chest, tongue swirling over your nipple until it stiffens, then the other, sucking softly, teasing you while his hand trails down your body, lower and slowly. Your back arches into him instinctively, chasing more, needing more.

"Bellamy-" You gasp, nails scraping his shoulder.

"I've got you," he breathes, fingers finally slipping to unbutton your pants, tugging them down along with your panties in one smooth motion before his mouth trails kisses down your stomach to the one place he wants to be.

Youre already so wet for him, thighs trembling just from anticipation.

"Please," you whisper, and that's all it takes.

He leans in, kissing the inside of your thigh first, kisses that trail closer and closer until finally, finally, his mouth is on you.

His tongue parts you gently at first, tasting, exploring, and then he groans, deep and almost feral, gripping your thighs and pulling you closer to his mouth like he can't get enough.

Your head rolls back against the cool metal floor, "Shit- Bellamy-"

He eats you like he's starving, like youre the only thing that's ever tasted good.

His tongue circles your clit, licking rhythmically while his fingers slide inside you, one, then two, curling just right.

The wet sound is erotic, and you're already close, your body coiled so tight you feel like you might snap.

When you come, it hits like a wave, washing through you with a cry that echoes off the wall. Your legs tremble and Bellamy doesn't stop until you're gasping and twitching, body limp and shaking under his hands.

He leans up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, pupils blown wide, breath ragged.

"You good?" he asks, but it's barely controlled.

You nod, dazed, reaching for him like your body knows exactly what it wants next.

You undo his pants with shaking fingers, and he watches you like he's in a trance, like this moment isn't real.

When you finally push them down, freeing him, you feel a thrill flow through you. He is big, thick, and already leaking, and when you wrap your hand around him, he hisses through his teeth.

"Condom," he manages, though it sounds like its killing him to say.

You watch him grab his pants and dig in the pockets. He opens it and rolls it on with shaking hands, and then your back against the floor, legs around his waist, one his his hands placed under your thigh.

"I dont want to hurt you," he mumbles, forehead pressed to yours.

"You won't," you whisper, "I need you,"

He slides into you slowly, carefully, letting you feel every inch, and god, he stretches you so perfectly it knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your nails dig into his back, and his lips find yours again as he starts to move, slow at first, hips rolling deep and steady, building a rhythm that sends heat curling through your spine all over again.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, hips snapping a little harder now, "So tight around me- shit-"

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, again and again, and you realize you're clinging to him like he's the only real thing in the world.

It's not just sex, it's months of tension, of unspoken words, of all the ways you've needed to be held and seen and loved. His pace fastens, slamming into you now, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls, your moans tangled with his low groans.

Your second orgasm crashes through you even harder, you cling to him, crying out, legs locking around his hips as you pulse around him. Bellamy's thrusts grow erratic and messier, and he buries his face in your neck, breathing you in.

"Im gonna- fuck- I'm coming-"

And then he groans deep into your skin, burying himself inside you to the hilt as he comes hard, shuddering against you.

Silence settles, broken only by your ragged breathing, your sweat-lined bodies still locked together.

Bellamy lifts his head, looking at you like you just changed everything.

"You okay?" he whispers.

You nod, "I've never felt more okay in my life."

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[littlemissvenom0]

Bellamy Blake- I’ll be there for her, always.

Landing on Earth felt like a miracle to Bellamy. He’d spent every day of the last few years thinking of Octavia, but also of you, his best friend who had been there for him through everything. You had been more than a friend — you’d been family, even taking the blame for him when Octavia had been caught, the day she was discovered and they took you away. You’d shielded Octavia in ways Bellamy could never repay, supporting her when they sent both of you to prison.

He hadn’t seen you since, and the absence felt like a dull ache every day. So when he learned you were one of the delinquents sent down to Earth, the relief had been almost overwhelming. He’d barely dared to hope he’d see Octavia again, much less you.

Bellamy spotted Octavia first. She ran to him, and he pulled her into a fierce hug, relief and joy flooding him as he held her tight. But as they broke apart, Octavia gave him a soft, knowing smile.

“There’s someone else here you need to find, Bell,” she murmured, her eyes filled with warmth. “Y/N’s here too. She took care of me in lockup, and she was the reason I made it out okay.”

The weight of her words hit him like a shock. You were here. Somewhere in this strange, wild new world, you were out there, alive and safe. Bellamy’s eyes scanned the camp, heart pounding until he finally saw you near the edge of the forest, alone and staring at the sky as if you couldn’t quite believe it was real.

He barely realized he was moving until he was right in front of you. You turned, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, you both just stood there, speechless. The years of separation, of missed memories and unspoken words, fell away, and before he knew it, he’d pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he’d never let go.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion.

You held him just as fiercely, your face pressed against his chest. “Same here, Bell. I missed you so much.”

For a moment, you stayed like that, neither wanting to pull away, sharing the comfort of each other’s presence. And though neither of you voiced it, there was a deep, unspoken understanding between you both, as if each could feel what the other felt. Neither of you wanted to disturb this delicate peace — not now. And so you parted, sharing a quiet smile before moving on, each of you content, even if the words remained unsaid.

When Clarke proposed a mission to scout the area for food and find a safe place to settle, Bellamy considered going, but his responsibilities in camp kept him there. Besides, Octavia had joined the mission, and while he wanted her to be safe, he knew he couldn’t always protect her. But you stepped forward immediately, volunteering to go with the group.

“You don’t have to worry, Bell,” you told him confidently, a reassuring smile on your lips. “I’ll be there for her, always.”

Bellamy nodded, his gaze lingering on you, worry etched into his features. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course,” you said with a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a final glance, you joined Clarke, Finn, and the others, your resolve steeling as you headed out into the unfamiliar forest.

The group’s progress was steady but slow. You kept Octavia close, navigating treacherous rivers and dense woods. When you reached a river crossing, Clarke offered to scout the water’s depth, but you volunteered to go first, stepping forward with cautious determination. As you waded into the water, you felt the chill creep up your legs, focusing only on keeping your balance on the slick rocks beneath.

The spear came out of nowhere, slicing through the air with deadly accuracy and embedding itself in your side. The impact knocked you back, and you fell into the icy water, the world spinning as pain exploded through your body.

Your vision blurred as you hit the riverbed, the sound of rushing water echoing in your ears. You felt hands grabbing you, voices shouting your name as your friends pulled you from the water, carrying you to shore. You could barely keep your eyes open, barely see Octavia’s terrified face, before darkness claimed you.

When the others returned to camp with you in tow, Bellamy’s heart plummeted. You were unconscious, pale and still, with a blood-soaked bandage covering your side. He was at your side in seconds, his hands hovering over you, helpless and lost as he looked to Clarke for an explanation.

“She was hit,” Clarke said, her voice strained. “A spear wound. She needs rest and clean bandages, but… we don’t have supplies for this.”

Bellamy clenched his fists, fear and frustration welling up inside him. He stayed by your side day and night, refusing to leave you even as the days passed. He held your hand through your fevered dreams, sponging your forehead when the heat threatened to consume you, whispering words of comfort even when he wasn’t sure you could hear him.

By the third day, he noticed the fever getting worse. Your skin was flushed, your breathing shallow, and Bellamy’s heart sank as he realized the wound had become infected. The infection spread quickly, and soon your body was wracked with chills, your forehead burning as you tossed and turned in feverish agony.

Bellamy spent those nights caring for you, refusing to give in to exhaustion as he stayed at your side. He did what he could to soothe you, wiping your face, whispering stories from their childhood, anything he could think of to bring you back to him.

On the fifth night, your fever reached its peak, and Bellamy watched helplessly as you shivered and sweated, your body burning up under his touch. He took a damp cloth and gently wiped your forehead, his hand trembling as he worked, praying silently that you’d pull through.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough and broken. “You’re stronger than this. You’ve always been the strongest of us. You’ve never given up, and I need you to keep fighting now.”

Clarke came by regularly, checking your condition, but the worry in her eyes only deepened as the days passed. Bellamy could see her doubt, and he felt it creeping into his own heart, though he shoved it down, refusing to accept it. He stayed awake night after night, his hand never leaving yours.

Finally, on the seventh day, your fever began to break. Bellamy had just dozed off when he felt your hand shift in his. His eyes flew open, and he watched in awe as you stirred, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze.

“Bell…” you murmured, voice weak and raspy.

He reached forward, relief flooding his face as he cupped your cheek. “Y/N. You’re awake.” His voice was filled with awe and relief, his thumb tracing soft circles on your skin as if afraid you might vanish.

You gave him a small, tired smile, blinking up at him. “You… stayed?”

“Of course I stayed,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “I thought I’d lost you, Y/N. I… I couldn’t bear it.”

You looked up at him, heart swelling at the depth of emotion in his eyes, a mix of relief, fear, and something else — something deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

He took a shaky breath, his gaze intense as he held your hand tightly. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I should’ve told you this a long time ago, but I was too scared. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, of ruining what we have. But these past few days… they’ve made me realize I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in as he continued.

“Y/N, I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw and honest. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. You’ve always been there for me, for Octavia… and I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you managed to squeeze his hand, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Bellamy, I… I love you too. I have for so long. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

A look of pure relief and joy crossed his face, and he leaned forward, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. His hand brushed over your cheek, his touch warm and steady as he looked at you, the love in his eyes unmistakable.

For the first time, words were no longer needed. The world around you faded away as Bellamy held you close, and in that moment, you knew that whatever Earth threw at you, you’d face it together.

[lukizzies]

bellamy blake x fem!reader

angst

hi how are u, im here w this again mujejejjee i just feel rlly bad and what better to let it off than by writing!!

so, again, my first language isn’t english!! so if it is like ??? it’s 4 that ok

i love so much this pink letters ;3

࣪ ˖        ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ˖ ࣪ ٬     ࣪ ˖        ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ˖ ࣪ ٬     ࣪ ˖ 

the reality was bad enough and not only because you were one of the hundred that were sent to earth some time ago. but now, with the deaths on mount weather and the non-physical death of one of your best friends, jasper, everything seemed to get worse.

you sighed, sinking your face into your hands. the cold breeze caressed your hands that were slightly bathed by the tears that began to fall from your tired eyes.

you were alone outside the camp, it was dangerous to be alone with all the mess that had formed, but who cared, you needed rest and you didn't feel that burdening your other friends with your problems was a good thing at the moment.

your heart was beginning to clench, the tears were more frequent and you felt your hands trembling. all you wanted was your mom, but she would never be with you again.

"hey..." you heard. it was that warm voice that had been a little cold in the last few days because of its loyalty to the new and, in your opinion, foolish chancellor.

you turned your head to wipe away your tears in a disguised attempt, something that had clearly not been disguised

"fuck off." you spat without looking at him. bellamy blake. the chancellor's new favorite bootlicker. he sighed, sitting down next to you in silence.

you'd been feeling pretty foolish for the past few months, because, aside from the deaths from the first moment you set foot on earth, your heart was foolishly broken.

who knew that a stupid boy who got there with you and ninety-nine other boys would break it in a moment of war.

"go away." you said again. you didn't want him to do it, he had been your support for a while so you foolishly fell in love with him after comforting words, comforting words and nights full of stupid pleasure. but nothing mattered, did it? when from one day to the next he was with gina, it all seemed to disappear and that made you feel ridiculous.

maybe it was the tight grip he had on you when he found you running through the corridors of mount weather.

maybe it was the bright gaze he gave you after he ran over your body with soft kisses.

or maybe it was just the looks you gave each other, the mutual support and affection.

but no, that didn't matter. he didn't give a shit about you and your feelings.

"I told you to leave!" you exclaimed when his hand tried to take yours, causing him to finally just take an empty space where one of your hands used to be.

he murmured your name calmly, guiltily. "I'm sorry." he whispered, looking down at his own hands, which were now playing with each other.

you denied again and again, rising from your seat as the tears threatened to come again. he stood up chasing after you, and though he didn't quite know what to say to you, he didn't want to let you go.

Your lower lip trembled slightly as your gaze quickly wandered everywhere.

"Leave me alone. don't pretend you really give a shit about me." your words were harsh and hurtful, just like his actions.

He spoke your name again. "Don't do this. I'm sorry, I really am."

you denied again, squeezing your eyes shut to let the tears trace their way down your rosy cheeks.

and when you felt his hand on your arm again, you just collapsed. the feelings overwhelmed your entire being, consuming you in pain and sadness that seemed to be endless.

he wrapped you in an embrace in one swift movement, placing his hand on your head to let you know he was there for you.

Your hands clung to his uniform, feeling that by not letting go of him, maybe everything would feel better.

he left a kiss on your forehead, his eyes glistening from the tears he wouldn't let out of his eyes, trying not to make you feel worse somehow.

at that moment it didn't matter how he had made you feel before, he was the only thing you could allow yourself to hold on to that night.

after all, the next day he would be pike's obedient puppy again.

[black-dragon1998]

Lone wolf Chapter 12

Summary: Clarke and Y/N resove their fight.

Notes: Trying to get back into writing for this story.

previous chapters: part 1- part 2- part 3- part 4- part 5- part 6- part 7- part 8 - part 9- part 10-part11

Clarke quickly approached your joined tent, hoping you were there. When she only saw Lexa and Madi, her heart sank. Lexa could see the distress on Clarke's face as she neared the tent. What had happened, and where were you?

"Clarke, hodness. What happened?" It was hard for Lexa not to run to her distressed wife, but Lexa had an image to uphold in unfriendly territory. When Clarke was inside the safety of their tent, she couldn't hold back any longer, so she pulled Clarke close to her with the arm that wasn't holding Madi. Clarke couldn't stop her tears when she felt Lexa pull her closer, missing you.

"Lexa, I did something stupid." Clarke sobbed into Lexa's shoulder.

"It's okay, Clarke, I have you. Whatever happened, I'm sure we can talk about it." Lexa tried to reassure her wife. The three of you had had your arguments before, and they were usually resolved quickly.

"no, Lexa! You don't understand. I have never seen (Y/N) look at me like that."

"Clarke, sweetheart. Tell me what happened from the beginning. Cause you aren't making any sense." Lexa said while leading Clarke toward a chair so she could sit. Madi immediately hugged Clarke the moment she sat down.

"hugs, mommy. Mama says hugs make everything better." Madi looked up at Clarke with a toothy smile. Clarke managed to give a tear-filled smile back. You had been right. Had anyone else caused this commotion, Clarke wouldn't have thought twice about your reaction.

After a couple of deep breaths, Clarke got her breathing under control. She hugged Madi tightly. Lexa, who had watched Clarke run through all the emotions, sat beside her wife as Clarke told her story through hiccups and tears. Lexa listened. It wasn't Lexa's place to choose a side. She just wanted everybody to be safe at home again.

Lexa suggested giving you some time. That way, both you and Clarke could calm down. So when you return, both of you can have a calm conversation. If there was one thing Lexa knew for certain, you loved her and Clarke.

Madi, who hadn't understood the conversation her mothers had been having, just sat there. The thing Madi did understand was that her mommy was sad and that her mama was gone. Seeing her mommy so sad made Madi want to do something about it. Maybe if she found you, you could come and give Mommy your hugs. They always made her feel better.

Sneaking outside, Madi immediately went to the three who would help her. Winter, Rain and Wood were close to the tent and got up when they noticed Madi approaching them. For them, Madi was the pack's pup and needed protection.

"We have to find mama. Mommy sad." Madi walked into the woods, surrounded by the three dire wolves. The wolves immediately tried to locate the scent of their master and started to lead Madi in that direction.

You had cooled off a little after your argument with your wife. You weren't able to go back to the tent just yet. So, you sat on a log and reviewed your emotions and thoughts. You Weren't mad at Clarke. Your feelings got the best of you after a hard couple of days. You also knew Clarke was under much stress, and your clashes with Bellamy weren't helping.

Sitting there for a few minutes, you notice someone approaching you. You ready yourself for whatever it is that comes through the clearing.

"Madi?" Hearing your voice, Madi ran toward you and flung herself at you.

"mama! Found you." You looked her over for any injury she could have gotten while walking through the woods. When you didn't see anything, you looked her in the eyes.

"what are you doing here? Do Mommy or nomon know you are here?" you knew the answer already. No way would your wives let Madi walk through the woods alone. Madi, however, seemed to be concerned about other things.

"mama! Mommy, sad. Sorry. Needs you." Madi wiggled herself out of your hold and pulled you toward the camp. When you didn't follow, Madi looked up at you with a pretty impressive glare. Clarke would be so proud.

"mama! Mommy cried." That did break your heart. Lexa nor Clarke cried easily. Meaning she must be feeling pretty big emotions. Sucking up your feelings, you pick Madi up and start walking toward the rest of your family.

When Clarke spotted you walking toward her, she flings herself at you. She was starting to apologize profusely. You let her ramble for a moment while holding her close.

"It's okay, Clarke. We were both at fault. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me and should also have considered your feelings. I get more territorial around certain Skaikru." You kissed Clarke on the forehead before kissing her on the lips. You feel her sag against you and hold her closer. Out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Lexa smiling. Reaching out for her, Lexa picks up Madi and joins the embrace.

"I love the three of you so much." You confess. Having this rare moment of vulnerability reserved for your family.

You and Clarke eat dinner before taking a quick bath and turning in for the night. Agreeing that you would be taking a more back-seated role in the negotiations, limiting your contact with the Skaikru. Your best warriors would still shadow Lexa and Clarke. That was the only condition you had.

part 13

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[cherrylng]

Muse Special Interview - Matt Bellamy [THE BIG ISSUE (JP) (September 2022)]

“‘The will of the people’ is an amazing thing that should be honoured,and democracy should be something we try to protect. But sometimes it can be something to be frightened of.” MATT BELLAMY - MUSE

Special interview Muse Matt Bellamy

Blending reality and fiction, the latest album from his stay in the US after two full years of a heart-breaking pandemic

On January 6, 2021, the US Capitol was attacked. A crowd of more than 2,000 people, waving stars and stripes, guns and placards in support of then-President Donald Trump, rushed into the federal seat of power. Matt Bellamy was watching the mayhem from his home in Los Angeles, far from the capital Washington, where the attack took place. He had been away from his hometown of the UK for a long time due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and had just begun work on the ninth album for his rock band Muse.

The numerous political upheavals in the United States that had a major impact on the production

“It was a pretty special creative period,” Bellamy recalls of the last two years. “If you’re going to make something good, you have to take what’s happening a bit more seriously.”

When the new coronavirus began to hit the US, Bellamy was at home in Los Angeles with his wife Elle Evans and their dogs. The assumption that he could return home whenever he wanted was now a thing of the past, and Bellamy was no exception. Recalling London’s walkable streets and lush parks where dogs could play freely, he felt shocked, as if he had been banished from his home. “I missed the UK so much, more than I expected,” he says. The album that came to fruition during this period, Will of the People, is Muse’s most ‘American’ album, both musically and thematically. “During the two-year pandemic in Los Angeles, I was immersed in the American way of life, the politics of the country and the events that were happening at the same time. The many turmoil that occurred between the presidential election and Biden's inauguration certainly had a big impact on the production.”

This album was born amidst the pandemic and political unrest. The album, a song about people's will for the future, expresses Bellamy’s feelings about the duality of the crowd. “Democracy must be protected,” he says. “On the other hand, the out-of-control popular will can lead to horrific events, such as the attack on the US Capitol. We should be wary of populism that loudly proclaims the rights of the masses. In chaotic situations, popular will can do good or be abused.”

Muse has maintained a brilliant rock‘n’roll spirit with a “flamboyant is good” aesthetic. That's why the band’s fans have been able to listen to their hard-hitting songs that get to the heart of things without feeling self-conscious. The band’s style, which takes place in a dystopian virtual world, remains unchanged, but the album also has a geopolitical essence that links it to the problems that infest the world today. “By blending reality and fiction, we have the potential for timeless, evocative expression.”

“The album is packed with songs from all the genres Muse has worked with,” says Bellamy. “We had a proposal from the record company about doing a greatest hits album, but we didn't want to do that as a band. So we decided to make a ‘greatest hits’ album with only our best new songs on it.”

In May of this year, Muse held a charity concert in the UK in collaboration with The Big Issue

Muse performed for charity in Hammersmith, west London, for two consecutive days in May this year. The venue chosen was the Eventim Apollo, where iconic British bands such as The Beatles and Queen once played.

The last time they held a live show was back in 2019, before the COVID-19 pandemic. They felt that their performance in front of an audience after about two and a half years had great meaning. So they decided to raise money through their performance for an organisation that works to support people living in difficult situations.

The hall, which can hold around 5,000 people, was filled with fans on both days, and on the second day a special night was held to celebrate the 30th anniversary of The Big Issue UK Edition. Three sellers were in front of the venue selling the issue with Muse on the cover, which reportedly sold fantastically well. Bellamy, who says he has been reading the magazine for more than 25 years, was inspired to work with The Big Issue by an experience in Los Angeles.

“We did most of 'Will of the People' in our studio in Los Angeles,” says Bellamy. “The homeless problem in the city was quite severe and every time we passed downtown on the way to the studio, we had to pass by people sleeping on the streets. This experience definitely influenced the album. The Big Issue also came to mind when we were discussing how we as a band should be involved in the world’s problems. So it was a natural progression for us to collaborate on a show in our home country for the first time in a long time.”

“I first came to London in the mid to late 90s. I used to buy the Big Issue just outside the tube station. When I think back, I always had either The Big Issue or Time Out [a London magazine] in my hand when I got on the tube in London.”

It's the 21st century! Tragedy in Ukraine Recalling the Northern Ireland conflict

Muse are also raising money for both Doctors Without Borders and War Child, which support victims of the war in Ukraine, at a live performance the day before their charity performance for The Big Issue.

“There is a terrible tragedy happening in Ukraine right now. Families are being separated, many people are injured and losing their lives. My heart breaks for the women and children who had to leave their husbands behind and evacuate,” says Bellamy. “I can't believe we are seeing this in the 21st century. The whole world is in crisis.”

The war in Ukraine broke out after a long period of political unrest around the world. Democracy in the US is in dire straits, many countries are grappling with the threat of the new coronavirus, while in the UK the social and economic impact of leaving the EU is becoming more serious. This has led Bellamy to turn his attention to Ireland, where he has his roots. As his mother was born in Ireland, Bellamy is eligible for an Irish passport. He says that the dual citizenship he can acquire by virtue of his roots in an EU member state is a valuable asset for a handful of lucky Britons.

“I'll probably end up applying for an Irish passport too. My mother probably already has one,” says Bellamy. “I was surprised when my mother, who saw the film ‘Belfast※’ with me, said, ‘That's exactly how it was when I was a child’. I was moved by the scenery in the film because my mother grew up in Belfast city.”

There is a key scene in the film where a mother and her young sons hide under a dining table to escape the mob outside. This scene illustrates the fact that the global upheaval we are facing is not so unusual historically. The film reminded Bellamy of his childhood memories.

“Every summer,” he recalls, “I would visit Belfast and the town of Ballymena a little further afield with my mother. At the time, we were still in the middle of the Northern Ireland conflict. I remember there were riots in the streets. My mother and I would sometimes close the front door and hide under the dining room table. The history of my mother's life, the reality she went through, and the memories of what I experienced in that place in the mid-1990s. Thanks to this film, I remember all of that.”

We find meaning in chaos through the means of art and expression.

(Laura Kelly, The Big Issue UK/Editor)

※An autobiographical film directed by Northern Ireland-born Kenneth Branagh about his childhood.

Translator's Note: Given that this is interview was translated from English to Japanese, and then using machine translation to translate it from Japanese back to English, the article may not appear the same as its original English version.

Seeing the difference in the UK cover and JP cover for Muse by The Big Issue, I actually like the JP version more in how they didn't cover it with too many words. It gives off a nice minimalist design.

Also, this article has new information that gave a lot more context to explain Matt's Irish roots. It is sadder than I have expected.

Please do support me via my ko-fi! ☕

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 2

A/N: I am so flattered by all the comments on Chapter 1! Seriously, y'all made my life with your kindness! I'm so glad there are other people who love Jo and 1975 Elvis as much as I do. I hope this one continues to live up to expectations! Keep the comments coming!

Need to catch up? Masterlist here.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: This will have smut, so minors stay away, but this chapter is all fluff/minor angst. Elvis gets mad and Jo is a bit triggered by it. Oh and Elvis takes pills again.

Word count: ~2.4k

Jo gets back in her car, rubbing her hands together for warmth, and says a silent prayer that Elvis will call.

******

Elvis wanders around the house aimlessly, trying not to wake anyone else up. He decides to take a peek at the cameras down at the gate to make sure everything is quiet. When he looks, though, he sees a girl standing there with her hand on the gate. She seems vaguely familiar, but he can't really see her face and she's bundled in a hat, coat, and scarf. He watches as she stands there for a bit and then walks away. Sighing deeply, he watches for a couple more minutes and then decides she must be gone. But just as he goes to turn away, she's back with something in her arms.

“What the hell?” He whispers as she starts trying to throw them over the gate. A chuckle escapes him as she misses a few times and has to walk further down the wall. Then, it dawns on him what she's throwing: paper airplanes. He watches as she throws the last one, rubbing her hands together and walking away. Then, his curiosity gets the best of him and he goes to Jerry's door, knocking. “Jer! Hey Jer, you up?”

Jerry takes a while to come to the door and Elvis knocks impatiently. Finally, he opens the door, his hair a mess and his eyes bleary with sleep.

“What is it, boss?”

“I need you to do somethin' for me.”

“Right now?” Jerry looks around for a clock to tell him what time it is.

“Yes, now. Get dressed.” Elvis turns and walks away and Jerry grabs some pants and shoes and follows him.

At the front door, Elvis explains what he wants Jerry to do.

“Just go out and get the airplanes?” Jerry raises his eyebrows. This seems like a simple task.

“Yes. And bring them to me.”

“You couldn't do this yourself?” Elvis smiles slyly.

“It's cold out there.” Jerry rolls his eyes and walks out the front door down to the wall. He picks up all of the notes and heads back up the driveway. When he gets back to Elvis inside, he's shivering.

“You want me to read ‘em to you too?”

“No, that's all. Thanks Jerry. Goodnight.” He takes the airplanes from Jerry and walks back up the stairs, leaving the younger man shaking his head and trying to warm his hands up.

Back in his bedroom, Elvis plops onto the giant bed and opens one of the airplanes. His heart stops when he reads it. He quickly opens all the others to find the same thing written on them. Without a thought, he grabs one and walks to the phone on his nightstand, sitting on the bed next to it with the receiver pressed to his ear. He dials the number quickly and waits as it rings.

Jo is in bed, wide awake, when the phone rings. She looks at the clock on the wall and picks it up tentatively.

“Hello?”

“Hi…” Elvis looks at the name on the note. “Jo? It's-”

“Elvis?!” She has to work hard to keep from screaming it into the phone.

“Yeah, honey. I got your airplanes.”

“Oh my god. You did?”

“Well, Jerry got them for me, but yes. How are ya?” Elvis is strangely nervous. His stomach flip-flops waiting for her response.

“I'm… I'm great, I guess. You know it's almost 3am?” She cringes a bit, knowing she shouldn't question this amazing situation, but she wouldn't be her if she wasn't a little sassy.

“Were ya sleepin’?”

“Um, no.”

“Didn’t think so. You live in Memphis or are you visiting?” The conversation continues as they move through the pleasantries into deeper topics. He can't believe how easy she is to talk to, how cute her little laugh is, how much he wishes she was actually there with him. It's been a long time since he's actually genuinely enjoyed a woman's company like this.

Jo is in heaven. This is everything she's ever dreamed of. The only thing that would make it better is being next to him. Still, she'll take what she can get. She's giggling at some story he's telling when she realizes the sun has started to come up.

“Elvis…”

“Yeah, honey?” She tries not to melt when he calls her honey.

“The sun is coming up.” He looks at the window and chuckles, sunlight creeping in under the blackout curtains

“Well, I'll be damned.”

“I have to be at work soon.” Jo twirls the phone cord in her finger, wondering if she'll ever hear from him again if she hangs up.

Elvis doesn't want to stop talking to her, afraid this spell will be broken if he ends the call.

“Why don'tcha play hooky today and come to my house?” Jo’s heart skips and Elvis can't believe what he's said. Why on earth would he invite her over to his house?! He's been up all night and needs to sleep. For a half second, the thought that he'd like to sleep next to her enters his head, but he gets rid of it as quick as it came. As young and pretty as she is, she'd expect more than just sleeping and he's not sure he'd be capable of that today.

“Oh, umm, I'd love to, but I really need to go to work. If I miss again they'll fire me.” He breathes a sigh of relief that she's not coming over immediately, but he still wants to see her.

“How about after? What time are you done?”

“I work until 4. You really want me to come over?” He thinks for a second and then the answer just comes tumbling out.

“Yeah, I really do.”

******

Jo is filled with a kind of nervous excitement all day long that keeps her awake. She's running on pure adrenaline and caffeine, so when the clock strikes 4:00, she's out the door in a heartbeat. She slaps her cheeks as she drives to Graceland trying to stay awake and before she knows it, she's knocking on the front door. Jerry answers and leads her into the foyer.

“Come on in. He's, um, in with the Colonel, but he told us you were coming.” He gestures for her to sit on the couch in the living room. She perches on the edge, careful not to get too comfortable for fear of falling asleep.

Just as she starts to doze, she hears a door slam upstairs and the Colonel comes down the stairs and walks straight out through the front. She hears another crash and it sounds like Elvis has broken something. She stands up instinctively and sees Jerry in the dining room, motioning for her to stay where she is. Elvis stomps down into the foyer and starts yelling to Jerry about whatever he's angry about. Jo isn't sure what to do, so she looks at the door and starts to walk towards it slowly. Maybe she should just get out of here…

“No! Jo, don't leave.” She turns and Elvis is close to her, still breathing heavily from his fight with the Colonel. His hair is fluffy like he's run his hands through it a hundred times.

“I just… I'm exhausted Elvis and you're obviously upset-”

“I'm fine!” He yells at her and she flinches. When she opens her eyes there's a fire in them that makes Elvis step back a little.

“Do not yell at me. I have not done anything to you. I grew up with a man yelling at me for things that weren't my fault and I'm not going to let you do it. I don't care if you are Elvis fucking Presley.” Jerry's eyebrows practically hit his hairline and he crosses his arms, waiting to see how Elvis will respond. Elvis is absolutely floored. No woman has ever talked to him that way. His mouth hangs open as he tries to figure out what he should say. She turns away from him back to the door and he finally speaks.

“Wait, please. Please stay.” He's careful to keep his voice even and quiet, so she doesn't think he's yelling again. Stopping, she lowers her head and breathes deeply. “I just have one more phone call with the recording studio and then I'm all yours. Please.”

Jo turns slowly and sees the pleading desperation in his eyes. She couldn't leave now even if she wanted to.

“Okay. I'll stay.” Elvis smiles, obviously relieved.

“Come on, you can wait down here.” He holds her elbow and leads her down the stairs to the TV room. Jo takes one look at the plush couch and smiles nervously. “I'll be back in just a minute. It'll be quick; I promise.”

She tries to perch on the edge again, but it's so soft and inviting that not long after he leaves, she's asleep. When he comes back down about fifteen minutes later, he finds her with her shoes off, snuggled on the couch sleeping soundly. He chuckles when he remembers that she stayed up all night and then went to work while he slept. She really is something else.

There's just enough room between her head and the corner of the couch for him to sit, so he positions himself there, careful not to touch or disturb her in any way. He clicks the TVs on and turns the volume down, looking down at her while she sleeps. With her haircut and big eyes, she's like a little fairy. He runs his fingertip down the side of her cheek gently and is overwhelmed with the desire to lean over and kiss her, but he doesn't.

Despite sleeping all morning, he's tired too, and before too long he's passed out as well. Without thinking, he snuggles into the corner and puts his legs up on the couch next to her, not even conscious of how close this makes them. She stirs a little when he does and groggily lifts her head, moving her body up to be in the crook of his arm. Neither of them is really aware of what's happening, but they cuddle there on the couch sleeping for the better part of three hours. At one point Jerry comes downstairs and smiles at the scene. It's been awhile since he's seen his boss this comfortable with someone new.

Jo’s stomach is the one that wakes her up. She worked through lunch, so she's starving. It rumbles and she opens her eyes sleepily. For a second, she has no idea where she is or who this man is that she's laying with. She sits up so quickly that it wakes Elvis up too.

“You're awake.” He stretches and pulls her back down against his chest.

“You're Elvis Presley.” His chest rumbles with a chuckle and she smiles.

“That I am, honey.”

“I'm sorry; I didn't mean to fall asleep.” This position is so habitual that he presses his lips to her forehead without thinking and mumbles.

“It's okay. I know you were up all night talkin’ with some old fool.” His hand runs up and down her arm as they talk.

“Yeah, my favorite old fool on the planet. And besides, you're not that much older than me.” He scoffs.

“Honey, do you know how old I am?”

“I've been a fan of yours since 1955. I know how old you are. I'm 36.” His hand freezes and he looks down at her. He would've sworn she was in her mid 20s.

“Are ya really, honey?” She nods against him.

“You wanna see an ID?”

“Nah, I trust ya, I'm just surprised. You look a lot younger.” For the first time since he called, Jo starts to doubt herself.

“Is it a problem?” She sits up and looks down at him where he shakes his head nervously.

“No! No. Women don't have expiration dates.” They look at each other for a minute, both of them wondering what it would feel like to press their lips against the other’s. Jo’s stomach growls again and breaks them out of their trance. “We need dinner. Come on.”

They peel themselves off the couch and go upstairs. Elvis arranges dinner for them and they eat together in the dining room, laughing and talking through the whole thing. At the end of the night, Elvis is dying to ask her to stay, but he's still afraid of what her expectations might be. She's a grown woman, not a girl, and he doesn't want to disappoint her. Instead, he takes her hand and kisses the back of it gently.

“Goodnight, Jo.”

“Goodnight, Elvis.” She smiles up at him softly, wishing he would kiss her. “Will I, um, will I see you again?”

Her heart flutters and she's afraid to even ask, but she has to know. This might've been a beautiful dream and nothing more.

Elvis hesitates for a second. He's reluctant to make any real promises, but he does want to see her again.

“Oh, well, Jo, um…” She shakes her head.

“It's okay. I shouldn't have asked. I'm just thankful for the 24 hours I got with you. G’night.” Before he can say anything else, she practically runs out the front door and down to her car. She doesn't want him to see that she's crying. Even though he's only known her for a day, she's known him for most of her life, and it hurts that he doesn't love her like she loves him. She knows it's an outrageous expectation, but some part of her thought that if she could just get to him, it would happen. So she cries all the way to her car and all the way back to her apartment and if she wasn't so tired, she probably would cry all night long.

Elvis watches her go and the full, heavy ache of loneliness settles in his chest again. But she's too grown up, too sure of herself, too much her own person. It would never work. And besides, when she really got to know who he is now, she'd leave like all the others. Best to save himself that heartache. He goes back in the house and up the stairs to bed, takes another handful of pills and calls it a night.

But he misses her in his arms, the big bed feeling cold and empty.

******

Will they see each other again?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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