#wellamy

[dear-yellow-legal-pad]

your new icon.... transgender bellamy blake.... bless

He’s just so trans? My evidence? I said so. He’s adorable and amazing. Rellamy? T4T. Wellamy? T4T. It’s just what we deserve

[thelittlefanpire]

a pair of bourbon kings

by thelittlefanpire

The 100 | Bellamy & Wells | Potterverse AU | TROPED

Inspired by @troped-fanfic-challenge TROPED: VISUAL Round One! Check out the original moodboard prompt on the TROPED blog!

An Auror and a Magizoologist walk into a speakeasy on the corner of Diagon Alley the night before a notorious witch declares war.

[a series of unfinished fics—16/50]

[love-a-little-less-archived]

bellamy + wells withhhhhh

toothpaste

what the hell sky ajsdkgljasldkh /lh

okay okay sure here goes nothing

-

"I forgot to bring my toothpaste."

Wells looked up from where he was unpacking his suitcase on the hotel bed, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Just use mine."

Bellamy grimaced. "You mean your weird flavored toothpaste? Why can't you just use mint toothpaste like anyone else would."

Wells rolled his eyes. "I don't like the taste of mint, Bell, you know this."

"But then I have to deal with your weird tasting toothpaste."

Wells stood up, strolling over to where Bellamy stood in the doorframe to the tiny bathroom. "You don't know its weird, you haven't even used it."

Bellamy huffed. "I taste it on your lips every morning when I kiss you."

Wells flushed a bit at that. "Oh."

Bellamy smirked, leaning forward, but Wells took a step back. "Oh, no. Brush your teeth first. I'm not kissing you until you do."

And Bellamy laughed, the deep rumble making Wells shudder. "Just one?"

"Nope. Go use my 'weird toothpaste' and then you can kiss me all you want."

"I'll hold you to that."

[fen-ha-fuck-you]

[disregardcanon]

while i’m thinking about the 100, here’s the only fic i have to rec from my intensely brief time in that fandom. it’s mainly stuck with me because it’s a well-written wells lives au but i do like the wells/bellamy pairing a lot too 

but don’t fear the fall

fandom: the 100 

pairings: wells/bellamy 

summary: A choice Wells makes on the Ark leads to a friendship that he did not expect. One moment in time can change everything.

Or; Wells and Bellamy were friends on the Ark, and that has repercussion when they land on Earth.

[thearmada4231]

Jedistormpilot is the Wellarke we deserved

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 5: Bellamy/Wells, Gutter

Bellamy/Wells, canon-divergent/post-s2, ~900 words

Tag list: @ciewill @dealingdreams @shadowheron2013 @julyrubyrose @wonderland-promises @hanav @rycewritestrash @thelittlefanpire @musicnote902 @stonybnatural @earthgay2052 ,  @bellarkehastakenovermylife , @bellarkewriting @astridandoddsandends, @justbecauseyoubelievesomething (lmk if you would like to be added to or deleted from this list)

*

At the gutter-end of evening, gray-cloudy twilight and bitter chill, Bellamy finds Wells, standing at the doorway to Alpha Station with his hands in his pockets. The year is edging at last from autumn into water, the dead grass and mud frosted over with ice and a thin layer of snow. Bellamy knows the expression on Wells’s face, even before he sees it, knows that it is distant and searching, because he can read Wells now as easily and as precisely as Wells himself can read the seasons. He was always first pick for Earth Skills. And he told Bellamy once, while they were making their rounds at the perimeter, that according to the old Earth calendar, these days now are the end of the year. People used to celebrate the new year, used to throw parties, and make promises to themselves.

"Doesn't seem like a very festive time to me," Bellamy answered, as he poked the toe of his boot through the morning's crackling, nearly-melted ice. Beneath it, a puddle of water was already expanding. The thin sheet broke in pieces and sunk beneath the surface of the pool.

Nor does this weather, this bleak season strike him as a proper time to speak about beginnings, or anything new. Arkadia now feels like it is coming to an end of an era, or more precisely like it is stuck, mired, in an endless middle. A pause. A taut uncertainty. When humans look back on them, as Bellamy imagines sometimes that they will, perhaps they will view this time as only part of the prologue, along with everything else he has done so far on Earth. The dropship camp, the fall of the Mountain—mere footnotes, if he's lucky. Camp Jaha, a forgotten name. What Arkadia will become, should it last—that will be the story for the ages.

He walks up behind Wells slowly, pretends he is trying not to be heard. Wells appears deep in thought, and so it is easy to pretend he is not really listening, even though he is. He always his. His thoughts could be anywhere, now; Bellamy tries to trace them, but his guesses are only the faintest stabs in the dark. Maybe he is wondering about his father, the ex-Chancellor's fool's errand, the Wasteland and the fabled City of Light. Or maybe he's worrying, as Bellamy still does, about Clarke. She’s been gone over a month now, the trail she’s left behind scattered and faint. How she’s become just another one of their ghosts in the wilderness.

When he's close enough, he grabs Wells's hands and pins them behind his back, presses up close against him and growls in his ear, "Hey. You're under arrest."

Wells twists out of the hold easily, and he's already grinning a lop-sided, easy grin when he turns to face Bellamy at last. "That's a terrible joke to play on an ex-prisoner," he says, and Bellamy just shrugs and steps aside.

"Just practicing. What do you think of the new jacket?" He grabs at the edges and holds them out, like he's showing off, trying to hide with exaggerated bravado how much wearing the Guard uniform feels like a child’s game. Even though, or because, he knows that fake bravado is the first thing that Wells will see right through.

"Nice," he answers, and crosses his arms against his chest. "Who'd you steal that from?"

"Kane gave it to me." If you can believe that. Might as well be a sick joke, another way the world has turned upside down and sideways on them, somewhere along the way from the sky to the ground. "He wants me to train some of the hundred to be part of the Guard."

Wells raises his eyebrows. Bellamy can't tell if he's surprised or impressed. "Makes sense," he concedes. "We have the most experience on the ground, and in combat with the Grounders."

"And it's nice that Kane and Abby are finally acknowledging that," Bellamy adds.

"Yeah." Wells's brow furrows, a distant expression on his face again, and Bellamy is about to ask him what else is on his mind, when he leans back against the doorway and asks, "Does he think we'll need a lot of soldiers?"

Out of the corner of Bellamy's eye, the wall they've put up at the borders of the camp looms tall, broken only by the massive front gate.

"I don't know," he admits. "If he knows more than we do... he's not sharing."

"Not surprising." Wells looks down at his boots, the squared off posture of his shoulders and the slight v between his eyebrows enough for Bellamy to feel the tension in him, feel it as if it were an extension of himself. "Can you believe we're in this place—where we don't know if we're at war or not?"

"Hey—" Bellamy steps forward, his hands on Wells's arms until Wells looks up at him and meets his eye. "A bunch of kids from the Sky Box are going to put on these jackets and be the elite. And I have to pretend that this isn't a big deal so it doesn't go to anyone's head. But it is a big deal. Makes me feel like..." He takes a deep breath, lets it go and feels light-headed, realizes all at once that outside, the last of the light has bled out from the sky and the clouds have opened up, and it has started to snow. "Makes me feel like if there is a war, we'll win it."

Wells smiles. "I never predicted you'd be an optimist," he says, and reaches up, and pulls Bellamy in.

[blodkru]

Y'all I'm going through it rn.

Send me some fic recs please. Murphamy. Bellarke. Wellamy. Linctavia. Niytavia. One shot or multi chapter. Anything.