Authors Note: I had these stories posted here originally, before I took a mental health break from writing and deleted my old account. I kept these stories up on Ao3, but I've noticed on FFnet people seem to leave much ruder comments. I didn't really have any bad critiques, but there was a lot of people telling me I needed to write more, or seemingly dissatisfied with the endings. Comments like, "is that it?" Is not encouraging at all and quite honestly can ruin my mood for that whole day. I am getting back into writing fanfiction, because it is something I love and offers some form of community that I enjoy taking part it. That being said, I am never obligated to provide for you, and that moment that this stops being something I enjoy is the moment that I will start to question why I would continue to do it. I am leaving this note on all my old stories, because I will be updated more regularly (once to twice a week) and I'd really appreciate if I could avoid these comments in the future. I don't want to have to resort to not reading the comments at all for my own sanity. Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts & I hope you can understand where I am coming from. xx Be kind.

Bellamy Blake is the last person Clarke thought would have an opinion on anyone's sexcapades. The guy had a clock of rotating women in and out of his tent the first week on the ground, so he really has no business judging anyone for being a little sexually impulsive.

Clarke needs this, okay? She lost her virginity to Finn Collins, who used her to cheat on his girlfriend, then—like the act itself wasn't bad enough—has the nerve to tell her he loves her a few days after she meets Raven, who's amazing, gorgeous, and 'the youngest Zero-G mechanic in fifty-two years'—god, what the hell was he thinking?

She knows what this confession is—an excuse.

It's also the exact moment she realizes she hates him. She hates him for lying, hates him for making her think they were the start of something, hates him for his stupid, floppy hair, for getting two kids killed on the dropship, for calling her Princess, really everything—everything he's done and everything he will do.

But most of all, she hates him for making her feel the weight of this guilt alone. Raven risked everything to make it down here, to be with him, because she loves him, and the idiot thinks he's in love with Clarke, after knowing her for a whole ten seconds—days—whatever.

So when she says she's no longer interested, because he broke her fucking heart, the conniving bastard goes back to his screwing girlfriend, instead of breaking up with her, because apparently if Clarke's not an option, Raven is the next best thing.

It makes no fucking sense.

And now she has to watch them parading their love around camp, like they're in some fucking romance novel and not in the middle of a damn war. It's disgusting and Raven deserves so much better, but she can't tell her that, because then she'd have to admit to having sex with her boyfriend.

She goes back and forth in her head, wondering if it's a sign of weakness to keep it to herself, even though it takes everything she has not walk right up to him and punch him in the face for looking her in the eyes whenever she's there to see him lean in to catch Raven's mouth. It's like he's trying to rub it in her face and for what reason—to make her feel like shit? To make her regret ending something they shouldn't have started to begin with?

She's dealing with it, in a sense that she's drinking lots of moonshine and hooking up with boys, also girls.

She hasn't exactly had anyone else's dick inside her yet, but she's working up to it. There's been a lot of groping and kissing, but she really doesn't feel the need to correct anyone on their assumptions. Plus the look on Finn's face in the morning when she leaves someone's tent with her shirt inside out is almost as satisfying as getting off on someone's fingers, so there's that.

But Bellamy's reaction—that's something she doesn't anticipate.

At first, she just thinks he's being a grump, a bit more annoyed than usual—nothing to make Clarke stop and think something else was up. The guy isn't exactly a walking ray of sunshine.

Then he starts picking fights with all of her hookups.

He puts Sterling on latrine duty, gives the silent treatment to Monroe—like he's twelve, and proceeds to kick Bree out of his tent the night everyone saw her making out with Clarke by the fire.

She may have also been cupping Clarke's breast at the time, but that's not really the point.

It's not like Bree was tied to Bellamy, she's had her lips on plenty of others, so Clarke's not really sure what the big deal is. She wonders if these are all just coincidences and she's being especially paranoid, because obviously, she has trust issues. Thanks mom. Oh and of course—

He's the worst to Finn, which Clarke was sure didn't have anything to do with her, because the two boys never got along much to begin with. Bellamy never tried to hide his dislike for him and she almost wishes she relied on his instincts more than her own.

She realizes her mistake when Bellamy loses his chill in the middle of camp and calls him a 'cheating piece of shit' in front of everyone.

Raven's sitting on his lap, glaring between them both. Finn's mouth drops open and then closes and opens again, like he forgot how to use it, which really is a gift to humanity, because the bastard needs to talk less and think more.

"Bellamy!" Clarke shouts, without really meaning to. He glares at her with an intensity she really hadn't anticipated. What the fuck did she do?

"Got something you want to say, Princess?" he seethes. She stumbles back and her vision blurs a little, but she holds it together, because no fucking way is she going to start crying now, in front of everyone—in front of Finn.

"What the hell is going on?" Raven asks, pushing herself off her boyfriend and eyeing Clarke and Bellamy, like they are the ones that owe her an explanation.

Bellamy nods to Clarke, waiting for her to finish what he started.

"I—I didn't know," she mumbles, biting her lip, backing away from them. She thinks about running, but it's not like they have doors to hide behind.

Bellamy shifts on his feet, and surprises her when he rubs his hand over his face, anger melting away for only a moment, before his guard is back up and he sets his sights on Finn.

"You didn't tell her you had a girlfriend on the Ark. Are you fucking kidding me?" He growls, kicking the dirt, and clenching his fists.

"Wait a minute—Finn?" Raven asks, turning back to him, pony tail swinging behind her. "You and Clarke? You—you had a thing with her?"

Finn stands, but still manages to make himself look small, running his fingers through his hair. "I didn't think I was ever—"

"Days Finn. You were only down here for days," Raven snaps.

He shoves his palms in his pockets and stares on the ground. "It didn't mean any—"

"Of course it didn't!" she continues, flipping her head back to Clarke. "She's not exactly one-track minded." Clarke exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding, feeling Raven's words like a punch in the gut.

It shouldn't hurt. She didn't do anything wrong, or anything half the camp wasn't doing, but of course she just thinks Finn was one of many. Raven doesn't know her and from what she's seen— "But you—how could you?"

"This isn't on Clarke," Bellamy interrupts, stepping towards them. "Say whatever you need to say to Spacewalker, but leave her out of it."

"You brought her into it," she huffs, shoving his shoulders. Instead of falling back, he brushes her off, stepping forward, narrowing his eyes.

"And now I'm taking her out of it," he says, final—moving around them and before Clarke can read his intentions, his hand is on her lower back and he's leading her away from the crowd, into his tent.

She blinks up at him and looks around. It's only when she reaches up to brush a loose curl behind her ear she feels the wetness on her cheeks and realizes she's been crying, which promptly snaps her out of her daze and she curses.

"What the fu—"

"I'm sorry," he cuts her off, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I shouldn't have brought it up like that, I didn't—"

"Why did you bring it up at all?" she snipes. "How was it any of your business?" He furrows his brows and crosses his arms, somehow still managing to look culpable and confident all at once, which pisses her off even more. "Any of it," she adds. "You had no right. She shouldn't have found out that way."

"I know," he says, ducking his head. "You should've told her."

"Again. Not your business," she repeats. "What right do you have telling me what I should and shouldn't have done? You have no idea what I was going through. How I felt. If I was going to—"

"If you said something sooner, I wouldn't have had to!"

"You didn't have to do anything!" she shouts. "I was handling it fine before you—"

"Really?" Bellamy snorts. "That's what you call what you've been doing?"

"Excuse me?"

"Bree, Clarke. Seriously?" He shakes his head and looks away from her, like he can't stand to think about it and hold her stare at the same time.

"What the hell is your problem? You seemed to like her just fine."

"You're not me. You can do better than—"

"It's not like there's a whole lot of options!"

"So, what? You thought you'd try them all?" He yells, throwing his hands up in the air and Clarke gulps, because it's a little distracting, when he talks with his hands. It's just—like the movement is disruptive to the conversation. He's so dramatic. It's annoying. His hands are annoying. "Clarke?"

She blinks and swallows, she looks up to see him studying her, tilting his head at bit. "Uhm, what?" He squints at her. "I mean—" she stutters, shaking her head to clear it. "Like you have any room to talk."

"This isn't about me," he says, low, approaching her, pausing a few inches away. Clarke chokes on nothing.

"What is it—"

And then his hands are cupping her face and his lips are on hers, hot and wet, sucking all her questions right out of her mouth. She feels his smirk against her cheek when he nudges her head to the side so he can trail kisses down her neck and yeah, this is way better than talking.

"Just once," Clarke gasps and squeaks when Bellamy nips at her collar bone and pinches her thigh.

"Not a chance, Princess."