#once again i did all the lines in my sketchbook by hand with a .38 muji pen

[sleepinglionhearts]

With no words, with no song

I’m gonna dance the dream

And make the dream come true

I’m gonna dance the dream

And make the dream come true

[part 1]

[eeveedel]

38, chubby actor

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

Louis arrived home from set sweaty, exhausted, and a little irritated.

Shooting in LA heat was bad enough, but it was made nearly unbearable by the fact that every day his costume consisted of at least three heavy layers, and also he had an extra thirty-pushing-forty pounds on his frame that seemed to make me far hotter than he used to be. He also found himself a lot hungrier now, and had spent most of the day with a growling stomach as he waited for a break to go eat some sad organic pretzel sticks and hummus at the ever-health conscious craft services bar. He had gotten a cheeseburger and some fries on the drive home to tide him over before Harry made him dinner, but he was still in a bit of a bad mood.

He shuffled through the front hall, kicking off his shoes and setting down his bag loudly. He heard footsteps upstairs leading from Harry’s office, and a few minutes later, his voice.

“Lou?”

“No, it’s your mum,” Louis called, “Yes, it’s me.”

Harry’s footsteps sounded down the stairs, and a few minutes later he was there to greet Louis in the foyer. He frowned a little as he took Louis’s face in his hands, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

“Rough day?” he asked, and Louis just groaned.

“The weather in this city is unnatural,” he said, “I’m gonna get a beer.”

“Wait, wait, before you do…” Harry started, grabbing Louis’s wrist, “I have a gift for you.”

Louis lifted a brow.

“What is it?”

“A surprise,” Harry smiled, “Come upstairs.”

Louis really just wanted to take off his too-tight jeans, get his drink, and lay on the couch, but he nevertheless followed Harry up the stairs and then down the hall to his boyfriend’s office. The inside of Harry’s home studio was as chaotic as always, with several boxes of fabric, three different sewing machines, and a couple fabric mannequins lining the sides of the room. Harry nearly tripped over a large box full of lace and buttons as he got to his main work table and picked up a thin white box from the clutter there. He grinned and held it out to Louis, his eyes glittering.

“I made this for you,” he said, “see what you think.”

Louis took the box and lifted the lid off, looking at Harry for another long moment before he looked inside. His brows lifted even higher when he saw the black lace inside, and when he fully lifted out, he saw that it was a bodysuit. A lace, velvet-trimmed, high cut bodysuit.

He looked back up at Harry, who was still grinning at him.

“I used your most recent measurements, so it should fit,” Harry said, “Do you like it?”

Louis blinked at him, and then looked down at the bodysuit awhile. He used to wear lingerie every now and again, but all his old panties were too small now. And Harry had never made anything for him before. But knowing he made this just for Louis to wear, and used the measurements he took meticulously of Louis’s body every few years, made Louis’s stomach squirm happily.

He looked back up and grinned, “I love it.”

Harry smiled, and then leaned back against his work table, crossing his arms.

“Put it on for me, let me see,” he said, his tone playful but his words more of a command than a request.

Louis nodded and turned to leave the room, but Harry cleared his throat.

“You can change in here, baby,” he said.

Louis swallowed, excitement running through him again as he turned to face his boyfriend again. He set down the box so his hands were free to take off his t-shirt, exposing his skin to the air, every curve and roll and stretchmark. Then his fingers went to his jeans button, the fabric releasing easily after a day of struggling to stay put. Louis ran his fingers over the red mark it had left behind and then unzipped them fully, wriggling his hips a little get them off. He took off his briefs next, the elastic once again having left red stripes on his plush hips. He heard Harry make a pleased hum, and Louis smiled to himself as he grabbed for the bodysuit. He unfurled it and then undid the ribbon on the side, widening enough he could get it on. It slid easily over his calves, but he had to shake his hips a little to get them over his thighs, making his whole body jiggle. He had to give a bigger pull to get them totally in place, his belly and what Harry affectionally his tits bouncing as he did. The bodysuit leg holds settled high on his red-marked hips and he felt the back of the bodysuit was only covering half his cheeks, which Louis guessed was a purposeful choice. Next, he pulled the lace body over his stomach. The fabric was tight but fit, and the curve of his belly stretched the pattern, making it wide and a little more sheer. He took a deep breath as he pulled the velvet bodice over his chest and the straps over his shoulders; he had accepted the fact he got a little winded putting on his clothes now, but with Harry watching him so closely, it made him excited. When it was on he tied the ribbon on the side, making it a little tight so little bulges of his skin poked over the ribbons. Then he lifted his chin and stood up straight, making a little swivel movement with his hips as he looked at Harry.

“Well?” he asked, “Is it what you imagined?”

Harry answered by crossing the room to Louis and pulling him into a hard kiss. His hands settled on Louis’s half-exposed ass and then they traveled to his hips, his sides, his stomach, all snuggly encased in sheer lace. Louis giggled into the kiss, and when Harry pulled back, he could see his eyes were big and blown and he was panting a little.

“I’ve had this design in my sketchbook for so long but just haven’t had the inspiration to make it,” he said, “But you…god, it’s like it was made for you. You just make it.”

“So you’ve thought about this for a while, haven’t you?” Louis giggled again, and Harry answered by squeezing his hips again.

“Maybe I have,” he said, “And it was worth the wait.”

Louis smiled, shaking his hips again underneath Harry’s hands.

“It’s so beautiful, babe,” he said, “Kind of sucks I’m gonna outgrow it, right?”

Harry hooked his hands under Louis’s thighs and lifted, making the other man yelp as Harry picked him up, grunting hard under the extra weight.

“You’re damn fucking right,” he said, and Louis laughed and buried his face in Harry’s neck, kissing his throat and whispering directly into his ear.

“Make me forget about my shitty day, cowboy.”

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Chapter 38: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 38/? Word Count: 1882 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Octavia does something moderately unethical to test a theory.

Also on AO3

Bellamy was thrilled that he didn’t have any work that required brain power left for their project. He was as content as he could be sitting on the floor by the coffee table, in Clarke’s movie night spot, watching her move back and forth between subjects. She bounced between helping him set up a PowerPoint presentation in a Jeopardy format and going over calculus formulas with O, Monty, and Jasper. The way she could split her attention like that was impressive to say the least.

He had mixed feelings over the fact that they had finally gotten all of the research done for their project. A large part of him was grateful, because it had been a challenge for him. He had a hard time being alone with her since he overheard Collins confessing his love. Collins was a dick, but he looked so crushed when Clarke didn’t say it back. There was another part of him, an overwhelming part of him that he kept trying to tamp down, that was sad that the end of the quarter was approaching so quickly.

The whole thing had made him analyze the weird attraction to her he had been experiencing over the past few months. He had to admit that, objectively, he was very attracted to her. Even though she was the exact opposite of his usual type, he was drawn to her in a way he hadn’t been to anyone else. She was smart, she cared so deeply for all of her friends that she often forgot about her own needs, and she didn’t put up with his bullshit. Fuck it all if he didn’t like that. A lot. She was gorgeous, but it was the rest that intrigued him, even though sometimes she annoyed the hell out of him. And terrified him. He hadn’t had feelings, serious ones anyway, for someone else in years. Not since Lilly. His worst nightmare was turning into Finn Collins. He had done that before and he would not do that again.

Octavia had been watching Bellamy watch Clarke all evening. It wasn’t exactly a new development, but it had only become really interesting over the past couple weeks. She had seen him watching Clarke a lot over the last year and a half. At first, it was mostly because he was shocked by something she did or horrified or caught off guard by one of her opinions. But it had evolved over the past six months and Octavia was less surprised by what she was seeing on his face than she would have expected.

It was like he was constantly this strange mixture of sad and scared, but he openly laughed at her jokes unless he thought they were stupid, and then he would tease her with a huge grin on his face. He looked disappointed when she left the room and he lit up whenever she came back. Whatever this change was, it had become more noticeable after they started taking that class together. Maybe even after he had punched Finn in the face for her. Maybe earlier. It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment that their relationship changed. Clarke, for the most part, seemed oblivious to his behavior, probably due to her own weirdness. It wasn’t quite as blatant as Bellamy, but O had caught her looking at him longer than necessary more than once. 

Octavia got tired of watching Bellamy being mopey and wandered into his room to find a sweatshirt. It was way too cold in his living room. When she walked into his room, though, his laptop was opened and his checklist for the classes he needed for his major was sitting right next to it. She looked at the classes he had picked and the classes he needed. An idea, probably a bad one, struck her. She couldn’t help herself, really. She wanted to know whether those longing looks meant what she thought she did. And those two had always needed a push in the right direction, anyway.

Bellamy didn’t bother knocking on her door. He just clutched the paper in his hand tighter and burst in. Octavia was practicing a dance and almost fell over when he shut off her music and she finally saw him. He waved the paper at her. “What the hell, O?”

“What are you doing just bursting in here? What if I was changing?!”

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

She put on her best ‘innocent’ face, but he knew it was a lie. “Have you been trying to call?”

“Don’t play that game. What is this?”

He slammed the paper down onto the table and Octavia sidled up to glance at it. “Um, your class schedule for next quarter? Oooh, I didn’t know you were interested in taking drawing. When did that happen?”

“I’m not! I’m horrible at it! Why would you do this to me?”

“Why do you think I did it?”

“Because your acting is shit and Miller and Harper would never try to torture a professor with my absolute lack of artistic talent.”

“I’m sure Clarke will help if you act nicely.”

The door closed and Bellamy spun around, his heart practically trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Why is the door op—oh hey Bellamy.” Clarke threw her bag down near her desk and Wells trailed after her. “What am I going to help with?”

Bellamy felt his face flush and glanced at Octavia, who looked too pleased for her own good. “Bell signed up for Intro to Drawing next quarter!”

He tried not to let it bother him that Clarke burst into laughter and had to hold onto Wells to avoid falling down. Wells just had a stupid smile on his face that they would be discussing later. “I did not!”

Clarke calmed down a bit while she shuffled through the papers on her desk. Finally, she found a sketchpad and pushed it into his arms. “You’ll need this.”

His jaw dropped and Octavia started laughing. “I’m switching out.”

“But if you don’t,” Clarke smiled, eyes bright, “I will help you.”

“She’s a good teacher,” Wells supplied unhelpfully. “She helped me in a drawing class in high school. I actually managed to pass. Sort of.”

Clarke turned and started unpacking her bag at her desk and he just watched dumbly until Octavia elbowed him in the ribs. The look of pride on her face was practically an admission of guilt.

“So, you’re going to stay in the class and let Clarke help you, right?”

Wells was pretending to read on Bellamy’s bed, but really being nosy. He had followed Bellamy home and kept trying to ‘casually’ sell Clarke as a good drawing tutor. If this experience taught him one thing, it was that he needed to find less intrusive friends. And family.

Bellamy waved the drop form in the air. “Of course I’m not taking that class. The few scholarships I was able to get rely on academic success.”

“You know, it’s not an easy A, but the professors give you credit when they can tell that you’re trying. You won’t fail the class. You know Clarke wouldn’t let you fail, anyway.”

Bellamy scoffed and continued filling out the form. It would be nice to have a reason to hang out with Clarke, but he was confident enough in their friendship that he didn’t think a class was necessary anymore. Wells waited a few more moments, but Bellamy was too busy trying to figure out which class he could fill the spot with instead.

“I just don’t see why you need to go through the trouble of dropping the class. Is there even anything you want to take that doesn’t have a waitlist now?”

Bellamy turned around to glare at him. “You know, Miller and Harper kept trying to sell the same shit. I don’t know why the hell you all think this is so funny.”

Wells shrugged and threw him a stupid grin. “We don’t think it’s funny. We just think it’s nice that you’re bonding with Clarke.”

“I think we’re plenty bonded, thank you.”

It didn’t matter that Wells was right. The class he had originally signed up for was full and the waitlist had so many people on it that it would be impossible for him to get in. Bellamy still filled out the form, even though he knew he wouldn’t be turning it in.

The whole situation was difficult for Clarke. On the one hand, Bellamy was just so bad at drawing. But on the other, he tried so hard each time. What really bothered her, though, was how she found the whole thing… endearing. Every time she watched him hunched over his sketchbook, his brow would furrow as he focused so intensely. Really, he focused on everything with that same intensity. Any time she got to witness it her stomach would do an unwelcome flip, because, fuck, it was kind of cute.

She was half-tempted to tease him when he showed her a drawing for his perspective assignment, but he looked so proud of himself. So, instead of telling him he should find out if he could deport his sister for tricking him into that class, she said, “You’re doing so much better. Really!” And he looked so relieved.

But sometimes, he got too frustrated. He had such a good brain for dates. It was just hard for him to put a line on a paper. Whenever he got frustrated, they would argue. It was usually the same thing every time.

“Drawing isn’t like, some natural, God-given talent, Bellamy!”

“That’s such bullshit, Clarke, and you know it!”

“You just have to pract—“

“Practice, I know, blah, blah, blah.”

“Very mature.”

“Can’t you just do it for me? You’ve already got the ‘practice’.” He used air quotes and she wanted to kick him.

“Sit down and try again! You’re going to get it!”

“No, I’m not.”

Clarke huffed. “Well, fine, then you’re going to continue sucking!”

“I thought you were my friend.”

He turned to face her with the saddest frown and she immediately felt horrible. All of her frustration disappeared in an instant. She sat down next to him and put a hand on his knee. “Of course I’m your friend. But it is my duty as your friend to tell you that you suck at this.” She leaned down and picked up the pencil from the place he had thrown it and put it back in his hand. “You’re going to continue to suck at this until you put in the practice.”

It was proof of how much their friendship had grown that he didn’t give up and leave. She was proud of him; of herself, too, actually. He stayed and he tried at least once a week until Octavia got home from practice. His lines weren’t perfect, he grumbled about how much he hated his sister most of the time, and he snapped at her a bit more than she thought necessary. Still, she was proud of the effort he made. Even if she didn’t understand why he was in the class in the first place, it was nice to have an excuse to spend the extra time alone with him.