This Is Heaven In Hiding, a 100 fanfic

Hihi! So this is kind of a oneshot that is going to have a series of oneshots attached in the same universe that I'll add to later. So I'll mark it as complete since they're individual pieces.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or the title, one comes from Iris by Goo Goo Dolls and one from Heaven In Hiding by Halsey, or the images used in the moodboard—which you can check out on my twitter or tumblr!

"Bellamy!" Clarke Griffin's voice was angry and echoed through the walls of the long hallway. "Bellamy fucking Blake!" She shoved open the first door to her left, which slammed open and exposed an empty bedroom and she pushed open the next one, which was empty as well. She nearly reached the end of the hallway when John Murphy stepped out from a doorway and looked at the blonde with an amused, raised eyebrow.

"He's busy at the moment," Murphy stated calmly, even though he knew that wasn't going to deter Clarke.

And he was right.

She shoved open the door that lead up to a room on the third floor. Murphy just waited until she had passed and then followed after her at a slower pace. They got up to the third floor and Clarke didn't pay any heed to the man who was tied up to a chair, shirtless with patch on his side that had blood leaking through, more smeared over his face and dripping down his chin, and just stormed over to where Bellamy was standing with his back the bound guy, talking quietly to Lincoln Whittle. His head jerked up as he saw Clarke come in, and his eyes shifted between surprised and then amusement as the blonde came over.

Murphy saw the way Bellamy's eyes dipped down, taking in the tiny pair of shorts that Clarke was wearing that showed off her legs, and if Murphy noticed, then Clarke would have, and that usually just made her angrier. Murphy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame, also ignoring the guy tied to the chair, watching everything unfold with Clarke and Bellamy.

"You do not get to just choose when you come and go from the clinic," Clarke growled, one of her hands on her hip. She thought it made her look a little more intimidating, but Murphy and Lincoln were both well aware that Bellamy just found her ridiculously attractive no matter what position she was in. "And you also do not get to ask any of my trainees to help you! They're not there for you and your boys when you get scratches, they're for actual patients," Clarke continued angrily.

"Madi seemed more than happy to help," Bellamy responded, his lips curved in a smirk underneath his beard.

"You leave Madi alone," Clarke snapped and Bellamy's smirk deepened. "She's not a part of any of this mess that you have going on."

"Well, I'm pretty sure she was well aware of what's going," Bellamy pointed out. "She's not stupid—you need to stop acting like she is."

"I don't act like she's stupid!" Clarke looked offended, eyebrows shooting up. "I just don't want her involved in all of your shit."

"You're involved," Bellamy told her and Clarke's let out a huff.

"And that was my choice," she shot back. "Madi's only twenty, she doesn't understand what she'll be getting into, what she's getting herself into if she helps you guys just one time." Bellamy eyebrow twitched as he stepped forward, the distance between them narrowed to only a step away, and he was substantially taller than the blonde, and obviously liked the fact that he could look down at her.

"She's helped us that one time," he said with a shrug. "So then I guess, based on what you're saying, she's already part of this. So this whole conversation is pointless." But he didn't sound bored, or like he wanted her to leave.

He just liked riling her up.

Clarke took in a deep, shaky breath, as though trying to calm herself down, and Bellamy tilted his head to the side and gave her a smile. It was an easy, amused smile that made Clarke clamp her teeth together firmly and curl her hands into fists at her side, fingernails digging into the palms of her hands.

"If you don't stay away from Madi, you are not welcome into my clinic anymore," she told him, her voice low. That was when the smile on Bellamy's face faded, and his eyes narrowed, not looking happy with her ultimatum.

"Good thing it's not your clinic then, isn't it?" He responded, words coming out clipped. "It's your mothers."

"Then don't expect me to help you," Clarke stated before turning on her heel and leaving. She heard Murphy saying something to Bellamy, but she didn't hear the response. She thundered down the steps, making as much noise as possible as she stomped down the stairs, to make a point. She walked down the long hallway to the stairs at the end, and then jogged down them to the ground floor.

It had taken her about a year to learn the lay out of the Blake manor, but now she knew it like the back of her hand and she easily navigated her way to the main foyer. She was only a couple of steps from the door when a hand reached out and wrapped around her wrist, jerking her back. She let out a yelp as she was tugged back a step, turning around, her hair bouncing around her shoulders as she was turned around to face Bellamy.

Who didn't look particularly happy, but she was used to that look on him.

"If you have a problem with me," Bellamy said, his voice low and rough. "Then you come and talk to me alone, you don't make a scene." Clarke felt a shiver run through her body, clenching her stomach as his thumb pressed firmly against the pulse point of her wrist. But her bright blue eyes were narrow and she jerked her arm away from his.

"I'm not one of your lap dogs," she hissed at him. "You don't get to tell me what to do." Bellamy didn't say anything, although she saw the corner of his lips quirk up, and she knew what he was thinking. "You know what I mean," she snapped. Bellamy's lips curved a little more and she rolled her eyes in frustration before walking to the front door, swinging it open and stepping out, slamming it behind her.

Clarke pursed her lips together as she moved around her kitchen, taking the salt and pepper out of the cupboard and then walked back over to where she was getting the chicken breast ready. She rubbed the salt and pepper in and then set about rolling it in the lemon mixture she had prepared earlier when there was a knock at the door. She glanced toward the door and then looked down at her phone. There were no messages, but Madi had said that she might come by and see her tonight, given how mad Clarke had been when she had stormed out of the clinic. Clarke walked over to the sink and washed her hands and was just wiping them dry on a cloth when she heard the sound of a key in the lock and then the door was opening.

Bellamy.

Clarke looked over at him, her lips pressed together, and after a moment of staring at each other, she turned and went back to preparing her dinner. The song that was playing through the speakers in the corners of her kitchen and living area changed, to something softer, romantic, and if she hadn't just touched the raw chicken again, she would have changed it to something else.

Bellamy walked over, not bothering to take off his shoes, obviously comfortable in her space. He came over the beautiful kitchen island and put down a bottle of alcohol.

And not just any alcohol.

Watenshi Gin.

Which cost nearly three thousand a bottle and was one of the most rare gins—maybe the rarest—given there was only six bottles produced per distribution run.

He was clearly trying to apologize.

Clarke just looked at the bottle, looked back up at Bellamy, and then purposefully went back to her dinner. The rice was already cooking in the rice cooker, and she had asparagus ready to be put in a frying pan once the chicken was cooked, and so once the chicken breast was nice and coated, she walked over the frying pan, put the chicken in frying pan and then took a step back as oil spat up at her from the hot pan. Then she moved back and pushed it around with the spatula.

She could hear Bellamy moving around somewhere behind her, maybe taking off his shoes since she reminded him pretty much every time he was there that she didn't like shoes on the carpet. And then her music cut off and she knew that he was connecting to the bluetooth stereo, and it was annoying, mainly because she was already annoyed at him and now he was interrupting her music, but she didn't say anything. Once her chicken was half cooked, she added the asparagus, letting them roll around in the oil and juices, reaching over for the salt grinder and sprinkling some more over the asparagus as she shuffled them around the pan.

Bellamy didn't come over to her and step into her personal space, which she was glad about. He knew her well enough that she didn't like to be crowded when she was angry. Once her chicken and asparagus were finished, she moved the pan to a chopping board, turned off the oven and opened the rice cooker. She dished her food up on a plate, turned around and saw Bellamy sitting on the other side of the island, on one of the bar stools.

"I didn't cook you anything," she said bluntly.

"I didn't expect you to," Bellamy told her, verging on placatingly, but not quite there, so she let it go. She sat on one of the bar stools as well, at the other end from where Bellamy was, two bar stools in between them. Bellamy turned in his one, raising his eyebrow at her, but Clarke didn't answering, setting about eating her dinner. It was late, and she hadn't had anything to eat since an apple that had counted as both her breakfast and lunch.

It was close to nine in the evening, and Clarke had only gotten home about an hour ago. She had been at the clinic until three o'clock, which was when she had found out about Bellamy's little run in with Madi, and then after she had left the Blake manor, she had gone to the gym. Turned out that she had been there for nearly three hours, taking out her anger on a punching bag and then getting into the boxing ring with a couple of willing fighters. The only reason that she had left was because she had started to feel faint, and she had finally remembered that she really hadn't had anything much substantial to eat that day. So she had come home, showered and started dinner, and now she was here.

Clarke was glad that the lights in the apartment were low. They were on a dim setting in the living area, and the main lights of kitchen weren't on either, although the four small, bright lights above the stove top were on, so the kitchen had more light than the rest of the room. Her curtains were still open as well, but they didn't let in much light, given she was on the twentieth floor of her apartment building, so there weren't many other buildings around her that gave off light.

She finished her dinner, putting the knife and fork down on the plate, and she was about to pick it up and take it over to the sink, but Bellamy got up first, coming over and taking her dishes away. He went to the sink and ran the hot water, rinsing the dishes before turning it off and turning back around to look at Clarke.

"I'm sorry I got help from Madi," Bellamy began, his voice quiet. "I won't do that again."

"Good," Clarke said, and her voice came out more tired than annoyed or angry, like she had been before.

"But you weren't answering your phone and Abby is away still," he continued and Clarke clenched her teeth together, feeling the anger rise at the fact that he was making excuses as to why he had gone to the younger girl. "And I had someone with a gunshot wound."

"You mean the guy that was strapped to the chair in your little torture room?" Clarke let out a huff, remembering the tape and patch on the mans stomach, underneath all the blood. "Yeah, he was clearly someone very important to you, I'm sure you really wanted him to have the best possible health care." Bellamy sighed, running his fingers through his hair, which was getting a little long. She idly wondered if he was going to get a hair cut soon, because she liked it longer, but then she quickly corrected her train of thought, because she was angry at Bellamy right now.

"He knows something about Wallace," Bellamy told her. "I needed him stitched up so that he doesn't go dying before we find out everything we can find out from him."

"So he's still alive, then?" Clarke asked.

"For now," Bellamy nodded. Clarke sighed and her hand went to her hair. She had cut it a couple of years ago, so now it was shoulder length, rather than halfway down her back like it had been her whole life. It was times like this that she wished it was still longer, so that she could play with it and twine it easily around her fingers when she was thinking.

She was pretty sure Bellamy missed her long hair as well, but it was easier to maintain this way, and she liked the bright red streak that she had on one side, shining through her blonde hair.

"Promise me you're not going to ask anything more from Madi," Clarke said, as thought it was a statement, even though it was a question. Bellamy came over and laid his hands down flat on the other side of the kitchen island, meeting her eyes steadily.

"I promise you I'm not going to ask anything more from Madi," Bellamy told her. "And neither will anyone else. I promise," he repeated, and it made Clarke swallow thickly. "She didn't have a name tag on, I just flagged down the first nurse that came by, I didn't ask her name, it wasn't until I saw something on her desk when we were leaving that I realized who she was."

It wasn't the best excuse, but it made Clarke feel better.

Bellamy had never met Madi, but he knew how much Clarke loved the younger girl. They had met when she had started her practical hours at the clinic last year, and Clarke had taken her under her wing. She had lost both of her parents and was in the shoddy foster care system and had still managed to graduate high school near the top of her class and was working two jobs while putting herself through college. Clarke made sure she had somewhere to go through the holidays and treated her as though she was only person existing on the day of her birthday and made her home cooked meals when she was cramming for tests.

She loved Madi, the girl was so important to her, and she had talked about her with Bellamy a lot, even though he had never met her.

"I promise it won't happen again," Bellamy said again, and finally, the bitter twist in Clarke's stomach began to loosen. She licked her tongue over her lower lip before nodding slowly. Bellamy gave her a small smile, turning back to the sink, turning the water back on again and washing the dishes properly this time. Clarke stayed where she was on the bar stool, watching Bellamy in her kitchen.

Or, maybe it was more their kitchen.

Given Bellamy had paid for it.

When she had moved into this apartment two years ago, she was in love with everything except the kitchen. Her family home used to have a big kitchen, which she loved, but then her family home had been a house as opposed to an apartment in the middle of the city, so she had just reasoned that she couldn't have that kind of kitchen.

Bellamy had fixed that.

He'd told her that they were going on holiday for a week, which she went along with, letting him whisk her off to Italy, and when she had come home, the kitchen was completely renovated.

She had loved it, let him break it in by fucking her on the new tiles in between the bench and the island.

Clarke blinked as she came back to the present, where Bellamy was drying her dishes and putting them away, easily navigating the kitchen, knowing exactly where everything belonged. He came around to where she was, turning the seat of the bar stool so that she was facing him and he rested his hands on her bare thighs, pressing them apart so that they were on either side of his hips. Clarke couldn't help but suck her lower lip into her mouth as Bellamy rubbed his hands up and down her thighs gently, big palms, long fingers, rough, calloused skin that made her shiver.

"I haven't seen you that mad in a while," Bellamy said quietly, and Clarke's eyes followed the way his mouth shaped the words behind his trimmed beard. "It was hot." Clarke's eyes shot back up to his eyes and her eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. Bellamy just grinned as he leaned in, kissing her cheek, the soft hairs of his beard scratching lightly at her smooth skin.

"I didn't get mad to look hot," Clarke snipped at him and Bellamy let out a laugh as he then kissed her other cheek, then her temple. There were shivers running through her at the gentle touch, and that knot in her stomach was gone, but she couldn't help the tension that seeped into her shoulders at what Bellamy said.

Maybe he hadn't intentionally said that to piss her off, but subconsciously he had to have known that that move wouldn't have gone over well with her.

"I know you didn't, princess," Bellamy smirked as he pulled back, one of his hands leaving her thigh to come up and touch her bottom lip with his thumb. Clarke swallowed hard, her body responding before her mind really caught up, her mouth opening just a little. Just enough for Bellamy to slide his thumb inside, past her teeth and Clarke couldn't help the way her eyes rolled backwards, into her head. It was such a small thing, the pad of his thumb resting on her tongue, but it had been a while, that was her excuse. Clarke tried to refocus her eyes as she sucked on his digit, and she saw the way his eyes darkened as they met hers. He pulled his thumb out, pinching her lower lip lightly before his hand moved to rest at the side of her neck. "You know I don't like people just barging in when I'm working," he said.

"It was important," Clarke stated, and even though her limbs were all feeling as though they were on the verge of melting, her voice was still even. Bellamy narrowed his eyes a little, but she didn't back down, meeting his eyes, and after a moment, he leaned in, a hand on her hip and his mouth moving to her ear.

"You're fucking lucky I adore you," he murmured against Clarke's ear, his breath hot. "I've frozen O's bank accounts for interrupting me before." Clarke's gaze was quickly disintegrating to a glare, and she twisted her head so that they were face to face.

"Good thing you don't control my bank accounts then," she replied, her voice just as low as his. Bellamy smirked and then leaned in and kissed her. Hard.

His tongue pressed between her lips, not waiting for her to catch up, and it felt as though the air was knocked out of her lungs as the hand on her neck squeezed. His lips moved with hers, tilting his head to the side for better access, and Clarke let out a whimper, her hands coming up to his shoulders and digging into the leather of the jacket that he was wearing. Bellamy's hand moved from her hip, resting at her lower back and jolting her forward, so that she was right on the edge of her bar stool. Because of the height of the bar stool, their pelvis' met firmly, and the hand on her lower back kept pressing, pushing her up harder against his groin, and she could already feel that he was turned on.

"Fuck I've missed you," Bellamy muttered, pulling back just enough so that he could talk, but their noses were still pressed together and she could feel the words he was saying shaping themselves against her mouth.

"Not my fault," Clarke answered, closing the gap to give him a quick kiss, but unable to make it any deeper because Bellamy was still holding her neck, keeping her in place. She could fight against it if she really wanted to, but she didn't. "You're the one that's been to busy for me." Bellamy actually looked a little hurt by that, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

"I'm never too busy for you, princess," Bellamy whispered. "If you told me you wanted to see me, I would have made time." Clarke pursed her lips and struggled to swallow, but then nodded.

It was strange, because this thing that they had, it was both solid and tentative at the same time.

They were together, but the rules around their relationship were different from a 'normal' one.

"I know you're trying to find out what happened to Jasper," Clarke said quietly. "I didn't want to disturb that." She also knew how he got when something this important came up. Jasper Jordan was murdered nearly two months ago, his body left in a public park, on display, obviously by someone who wanted to send a message. Bellamy was pretty sure it was Cage Wallace, or someone he was associated with, but he had gone underground, and so Bellamy was having a hard time finding him. Jasper was young, younger than Clarke, and he was an absolute whiz when it came to computers. He didn't deserve to die, and so finding who did it was consuming Bellamy.

"Yeah," Bellamy cleared his throat, eyes dropping downward. Then he looked back up at her, his lips pursed together. "I don't want to talk about this right now." The hand on her neck moved to push hair away from her eyes, back behind her ear, his thumb trailing down her cheek, to her chin.

"But we're going to talk about it some time," Clarke pressed, because she knew he had been busy, but he had also been shutting her out, and that wasn't okay.

"We will," Bellamy agreed, and then he leaned back in and kissed her again. This time it was more heated than the last time, more bruising and Clarke was just along for the ride. Bellamy kissed like he did everything in life, intensely, and it made Clarke's ears ring.

Bellamy picked her up easily, one arm banded around her waist, and he moved her just a few inches to the left, so that she was sitting on top of the marble island. Both hands go to the hem of her shirt, gripping it and pulling it over her head, leaving her torso completely bare, her breasts exposed, and one hand went to one of her nipples, rolling and plucking at it, while the other hand went back to her neck. His thumb pressed against her trachea and it made her want to swallow, but when she tried, it was harder than normal. His mouth left hers, head dropping down to her breasts, kissing and biting, knowing how sensitive her nipples were.

"Bell..." Clarke whispered out, and his hand around her neck shifted, more around to the front of her throat, sliding up closer to her head, tucking in underneath her face. He wasn't squeezing anymore, just holding, and Clarke felt a rush of arousal in the underwear she was wearing. Bellamy's lips and teeth playing with her nipple, before switching to the other one, paying it the same attention, and Clarke couldn't help but squirm on the counter top.

Bellamy's hands shift, pushing her back so she was laying back on the marble, and then they were on her sleeping shorts, hooking his fingers in the sides, and tugging them down, her underwear as well, so that she was completely naked on the counter top, while he was still fully dressed in front of her. Bellamy's eyes rake over her, taking in every inch of pale skin, the little scars on her knees and the one on her abdomen, the tattoo on her ribs and the piercing in her belly button. Her cheeks heated up, and she can feel the flush spreading down her neck and toward her chest, even though she should be used to Bellamy doing this, he had a thing about drinking her in when they had been apart for a while, even if it was only a couple of weeks. His eyes went to her hand, taking in the diamond ring on her middle finger, and the sapphire one on her pointer finger, both of them gifts from him, before his eyes reached her face.

"You're so beautiful," Bellamy breathed, and Clarke's breath hitched in her throat. "It feels impossible, but I swear you get more beautiful every time I see you." Clarke rolled her eyes, but then Bellamy's hand was on her knee, pushing it to the side, and her eyes quickly fixed back on her lover. He pushed her knees apart and then leaned forward, looping his arms underneath her thighs and kissing the inside of her leg. Clarke twitched underneath the attention, the soft scratch of his beard as he worked his way to the centre of her legs and then he wasted to time, licking between her lower lips.

"Shit!" Clarke squeaked out, her hips thrusting off the counter and toward his mouth, but his hands moved to press down on her hips, elbows resting on the cool top as he licked at her again. The hair between her legs was trimmed short and he kissed her gently before licking again, this time just over her clit with the tip of his tongue. She wanted to push up against his mouth again, but the way that he was holding her meant that she couldn't. Her toes curled into the hard counter top, biting down on her lower lip to stop herself from making too much noise. Bellamy's teeth grazed her clit and she gasped, every nerve ending in her body set alight.

Bellamy licked and sucked at her clit, holding her hips hard enough that there were going to be bruises tomorrow. Clarke sighed and shifted as much as she could under his grip, and she quickly felt an orgasm building and building and the noises at the back of her throat became a continue whine.

"Bell—Bellamy, I'm gonna—Bell, I'm gonna—" Clarke was cut off as Bellamy dipped lower, licking at her entrance, gathering her arousal and licking back up to her clit again. The shift in sensation made her cry out, and as he did it again and again, her breathing got harsher and then she was coming.

He didn't stop then.

He kept licking and sucking and Clarke cried out as she came again, and she could feel liquid under her ass, from where it had dripped down onto the counter top. Bellamy kept going until Clary's clit felt swollen and her thighs felt too sensitive from the scratch of his beard and she reached down with a hand to push at his head. Bellamy let out a chuckle, lifting his head and pressing a wet kiss to her knee before straightening up.

His lips were glistening from her come, and his beard looked a little damp as well.

"You taste so good," Bellamy told her and Clarke felt another shudder run through her, eyes closing momentarily. She opened them to see Bellamy straightening up, shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it over the bar stool, and then shoving down his pants and briefs underneath. He pulled his cock out and then he was pushing inside her and Clarke's whole body jolted, back bowing off the bench and fingers clenching as they reached out for her.

It had been years since they had used protection, given they weren't sleeping with anyone else and Clarke was on birth control, and she loved the fact that there was absolutely nothing separating the two of them.

Clarke curled herself upward, peeling herself off the island top and wrapping her arms around Bellamy's shoulders. She wished that she had taken off his shirt so that she could scratch at his corded muscles, but she settled for what she had, bunching the shirt up in her fists and burying her face into Bellamy's neck. Both his hands gripped her ass, lifting her up and thrusting in, burying himself deep inside her as he panted. Pleasure rolled over Clarke and she could feel that she was going to orgasm again, especially from the way that Bellamy was lifting her and then shoving upward into her, manhandling her body to that they were sliding together in the best possible way.

"Kiss me, princess," Bellamy whispered into Clarke's hair, and she lifted her head from his neck and smashed her lips down on his. One of Bellamy's hands splayed out on her back, and she could feel his rough fingers spreading out over her skin, while the other stayed on her ass, squeezing and making her shake. Clarke groaned into Bellamy's mouth and she could feel his smile against her lips. She tightened her vaginal muscles on an impulse and then felt that smile disappear and the kiss became sloppier, loosing their rhythm, teeth knocking together.

When Bellamy came, he bit down so hard on Clarke's lower lip that she could taste blood, but that just sent her swirling toward her own orgasm, especially since Bellamy was holding her tightly against his body, his cock head pressing against the most explosive parts inside her.

Bellamy carried her to her bedroom, laying her out on her duvet cover before going to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean both of them up. Afterwards, he stripped out of all his own clothes and got into bed with her, curving his body around hers. Clarke liked sleeping on her stomach, but Bellamy liked spooning her, her back against his chest, and he arranged her in the way he liked, nudging a leg between hers, sliding his hand underneath her head and linking the fingers of one of their hands together.

Clarke was used to it.

She knew better than to complain.

Plus, even though she said that she overheated when they were all tangled together, and said that she liked her personal space, she loved it when Bellamy held her.

"I'm sorry about Madi," he apologized again, lips brushing across the back of her neck. Clarke nodded, drawing in a breath before dropping her chin down to her chest, tucking herself almost into a ball, except for the way their legs were laced together.

"I'm sorry about Jasper," Clarke replied, because they had barely seen each other in the two months since the young mans death, and only once or twice of those times they had been alone. Bellamy tightened his arms around her, as though he was trying to fuse their bodies together.

"I love you," Bellamy murmured.

"I know," Clarke replied and she heard a huff of laughter from Bellamy before he buried his head in the pillow, his breathing evening out as he went to sleep. Clarke smiled into the darkness, and fell asleep not long after.

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