Okay, so this is a 5 senses challenge by Feigningintrest! The challenge is to post one chapter, of whatever length, for each sense each day. (one sense a day) For those of you that know me, I usually post quickly so I might even post two chapters a day or something ;)

This is my very first time writing for the 100 fandom :) I usually write for the Divergent fandom but here I am :D So I hope I do this story, the fandom, and the characters justice.

This is will be Bellarke; will have 5 chapters; will have a story/plot; will have smut

This is around s1 because I think the Moutain Men crazyness would hinder the plot I am working with, so get nostalgic, I guess? It won't have themes or major issues from the book/show; just the setting and characters and whatnot. So no fights or deaths or whatever, so it's slightly AU

AU/Canon blend

Rated M: Strong language/sexual themes/future sexual content

Characters may be but shouldn't be ooc at times to fit plot

I do not own The 100 or any related characters/situations

This is for: smell

Enjoy :)

The air was sticky as the hot sun blistered Clarke Griffin's skin. She sighed as she walked through the camp, her nose scrunching up as sweat invaded her nostrils.

"Ah, glad to see the Princess has the right expression on," he said, his voice as deep as the night.

Inhaling sharply, Clarke turned on her heel and glared at Bellamy, his lips pulled up in a lopsided smirk as the sun ignited the soft blues and purples hidden in his dark mess of curls. "Excuse me?"

Bellamy scoffed as he inched closer to her, her eyes flickering across his naked torso for a split second, his dark orbs gleaming when he noticed. He was close, too close for Clarke. She could count all of his freckles, she could see the drops of gold and flecks of green swimming in his dark-brown orbs. Worst of all, she could smell him. He didn't smell bad, maybe that's what pissed her off so much. She knew she didn't smell good, but he had this scent to him—pine needles laced with sweat. She breathed him in deeply, electricity shooting through her veins as he swarmed her senses. "Your face—it looked like the stuck-up Princess you are."

Her lips were in a thin line as she glared at him, heat coloring her cheeks and neck as his lips twitched up at the ends. "Fuck off, Bellamy." She narrowed her eyes at him before stalking off, anger sizzling beneath her skin. She had thought that they were past all of the name-calling. She had thought they were passed him thinking she was a stuck-up bitch. I couldn't help what section of the ship I was born onto any more than you could, her mind spat as she stomped onto the dropship.

Her feet clacked against the metal, dark-brown orbs looking up to her. "Trouble in paradise?" she asked, her full lips tilted up at the ends. Clarke didn't say anything, her voice wasn't working. Raven's lips turned down, her eyebrows furrowing. "Is everything okay?"

Clarke exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down. She wasn't normally like this—hotheaded and prone to outbursts. At the very least, she could keep a calm and level head through her anger. But there was just something about Bellamy Blake that drove her up a wall. Was it how at ease he always seemed, even when he was snarking up a storm? Was it how his brown eyes gleamed when he was telling her off, a playful smirk on his lips as he made fun of her? She let out a deep sigh before turning to Raven. "The King makes it a habit of pissing me off," she scoffed as she checked their medical supplies again. She bit her lip as she recounted the glass vials, her eyebrows knitting together when she came up four short. "What happened to the vials?"

Raven tilted her head to the side as she unplugged and dissected the radio, the corners of her lips pulled down in concentration. "I think Octavia took them."

Clarke inhaled sharply. These damn Blakes are pissing me off. "Why?"

Raven cursed under her breath as the radio made a hissing-pop sound, the metal creaking together before she slammed it down on the table in a huff. Clarke's face contorted in disgust as the scent of burnt plastic and rusted metal invaded her nose. Raven rolled her eyes as she glanced to Clarke. "I think she made soap."

"Soap?"

"Yeah, soap. You know, to wash our bodies so we won't stink," a sweet voice said. Clarke turned to see Octavia stalk up to them, her eyes more green than brown. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to smell like shit all the time."

Clarke nodded slowly as she crossed her hands over her chest. "How'd you make it?"

Octavia shrugged. "Oils and honey."

Clarke quirked her brow, her lips twitching up at the ends. She may not be overly fond of the older Blake, but she liked Octavia. "What did you use to saponify the oils?"

Octavia swallowed hard, her mouth opened to speak before Raven let out a loud snort. "Jasper found some oils and made a castille soap. She just borrowed four vials, give the girl a break. Maybe Octavia will let you test out the soap—make sure we won't die or break out."

Clarke watched that same damn lopsided grin crawl across Octavia's face as she held out a vial. Clarke took it, the glass cool against her fingertips. She stared at the liquid as she turned the vial about, the thick liquid bubbling from side to side. The soap was golden, some bubbles darker than others. Sighing, she opened the top and brought it to her nose. She breathed in the soap, the sweet scent tickling her nostrils.

Clarke peered to the sky as she stood in the doorway to the dropship, the sun hanging low. The light blue sky was alive with pink and purple streaks as bugs chattered in the air. She smiled as she inhaled slowly, the scents of moist earth and burning bark encasing her.

She made her way through the camp to where the fire was, laughter filling the air as people gathered 'round. She glanced to her right, his dark eyes already on her. She felt a shiver pulse through her spine as his lips twitched up, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he called her over. "There's a seat right here, Princess."

Clarke made her way over, sitting down on the thick log next to Bellamy. Her hands slid over her knees as the heat of the fire licked at her skin. Her nose was overwhelmed as the burning embers etched their way through her senses, combatting his dark, musky scent that threatened to seep through her skin. She tried to edge away, a gasp on her tongue as he stretched himself out—his leg bumping into hers.

Warmth invaded her veins as his skin rubbed against hers. She glanced to him, his gaze averted as he talked to Miller about hunting. She smiled as she watched him, how his face lit up when he was excited, the golden gleam in his eyes when he seemed happy. She shook her head as she turned away, her body leaning closer to him reflexively. I just don't get you, Bellamy Blake, her mind whispered as she listened to everyone's laughter bubble through the air.

Her shoulder was barely resting against his, his warm scent creeping past her lips. She tried to put a finger on how it made her feel, only one word coming to mind: safe. She shivered when she felt eyes on her, burning holes through her skin.

Her eyes peered up as darkness fell upon the camp. Finn's dark orbs were already on her as Raven sat by him. Clarke stiffened, their orbs locked together as the fire danced between them. The smell of the burning wood seemed to wash away as something shifted beside her, an arm around her waist. She didn't protest, letting Bellamy pull her close. Her eyes were still looking to Finn as his lips pulled down at the ends. He was the one to avert his gaze, stalking off somewhere while Raven followed after him. Clarke stared at the spot he had just left, the oranges and reds flickering against the black tapestry of the night. With a sigh, she leaned onto Bellamy fully, his warmth spreading through her body as she inhaled sharply, breathing him in on the nighttime air.

Clarke woke up slowly, her back arching as she stretched across the make-shift bed. She sighed softly as she glanced around the dropship, gentle snores drifting through the air. She inhaled deeply, her nose scrunching at the scent that welcomed her nostrils. To say she didn't smell good would still be an understatement, her skin dirty with oils and sweat and musk. Her fingertips dropped down to her pack, her fingertips wrapping around the vial that held Octavia's soap. With an aggressive sigh, she grabbed her extra pair of clothes and a moderate-sized rag before leaving the dropship, trying to be as quiet as she could.

Goosebumps prickled her skin as the midnight air encased her. She breathed deeply, remnants of burnt wood lingering on the breeze. Her bright blue eyes peered around the camp, a quiet hush falling over the tents. She made her way through the camp, her footfalls quiet against the dirt. She sucked in a deep breath when she passed by his tent, a faint scent swarming her nostrils. She inhaled slowly, earth and musk invading her senses. Shaking her head, she tip-toed past his tent, leaves crunching underneath her feet. Once she was through the first pair of trees, she let out a shaky breath.

Her feet followed the path Octavia had shown her time and time again. She memorized the trail, turning left when the solid ground caved in a little. She took a sharp right where the mangled tree was, dark limbs twisting to the sky. She ran her fingertips across the broken bark of the row of trees beside her, the rough skin of the plants digging into her fingertips. She was almost to the water-hole, light floral aromas wafting through the air.

The dirt began to shift as she drew near, solid ground growing softer—crumbling like sand beneath her toes. The trees opened up into a small clearing, the edges of the water-sourse surrounded by various bushes and trees—tall and lanky plantlife creating a canopy beneath the stars. Clarke stood on the waterbank for a moment, her blue eyes peering up to the sky. A small shiver pulsed through her as the ark came to mind, her throat burning with tears. She shook her head as she locked gazes with the moon, her light reflecting in Clarke's bold orbs. Clarke sighed as she toed closer to the water, her eyes watching the purple flowers float on the surface.

She peeled off her clothes slowly, a sigh of pleasure bubbling up her throat as the gentle breeze wrapped around her body. Clarke waded into the water, her teeth chattering as the cold seeped into her bones. Such a great idea, her mind whispered as the water flowed across her chest. Bathe at night—when the water is freezing.

She treaded water for a while, her toes standing tall on the sandy bottom. Her fingers ran the water over her skin, a soft moan escaping her lips as she dipped her head in backwards. She lifted herself slowly, her blonde hair sticking down the length of her back—heavy with water. She smiled as one of the floating flowers skimmed past her. She scooped it up and breathed it in, the scent as gentle as the rolling winds.

Sighing, she tip-toed her way closer to shore, until the water wrapped around her waist. She poured the soap onto her palm, tossing the empty vial towards her pile of clothes. She sniffed the soap again, a smile on her lips as the sweet, light scent flowed past her nostrils. She patted her face gently before using it on her body, rubbing the soap in gentle circles across her skin. She shook her face in the water, using her free hand to rinse the soap from her face. Her fingertips lathered her skin, her nails scraping the dirt and rubbing the oils from her body. She rubbed the soapy mix over her arms, her eyes closed as she skimmed over her chest and down her stomach. She edged a little closer to shore so she could balance on the shifting sands to wash the grime from her legs. She did her best to reach her back, the muscles in her arms straining as she stretched back. She bit her lip as she swiped over her sensitive folds, a soft moan on her tongue when a finger lingered a little longer than needed. Heat colored her cheeks as she shook her head, her feet wading deeper into the water to rinse the soap off.

She started with her legs, her fingertips rubbing up and down her smooth skin. She leaned back in the water to wash her back, her hands letting the water flow over her stomach to rinse the soap residue there. Sighing, she rinsed the soap from her chest, her fingers skimming over hardening buds. Her lower lip was between her teeth as she let a hand snake down her body, her fingertips washing away any trace of the soap that lingered on her skin—her fingertips sliding over her sensitive folds once more. She exhaled slowly as she closed her eyes, letting the lingering scent of honey and coconut oil embrace her.

Clarke let the nighttime scents encase her as she waded through the water-hole, the floral scents almost stronger without the distraction of the daytime noise. With a sigh, she began to work her fingers through her hair—wincing as she pinched out the knots that tangled her yellow waves. She was halfway through the process when she froze, a familiar scent encasing her. She bit her lip, her stomach tightening as she glanced around the small clearing. She took a deep breath, the scent slithering through her veins—all earth and musk. No. She flickered her eyes around, narrowing them to see past the darkness when a small gasp fell from her lips.

She ducked farther into the water, the liquid covering her up to her nose. She stayed completely still, hoping her pale skin wasn't illuminated by the moonlight as she watched Bellamy stalk out of the water.

She tilted her head a little, her eyes watching his muscles ripple beneath his skin. She blinked a few times as he rubbed a large rag over his body, her eyes looking away from his backside. You have got to be kidding me, she thought as he stretched himself out slowly, his ass to her. Bellamy twisted his back slightly, her orbs following the water droplets as they trickled down his toned body. She swallowed hard, her lips pursed as she stilled herself beneath the water.

The feeling in her stomach was back, her core tightening itself up in knots as he began to turn around fully, his hand running through those wild, black curls of his. She thought she caught a small smirk playing at his lips before she dipped under and away, her eyes shut tightly.

She waited a few seconds before opening her eyes, Bellamy gone. She stalked back to shore slowly, her blue orbs flashing here and there every once in a while. Clarke stood where he was standing just a moment ago, the imprints of his feet stark against the mud of the waterbank. She inhaled deeply, her lips parting slightly as his scent encased her—his earthy aroma tingling on her tongue.

She shook her head as she went to dry herself off, her cheeks slightly flushed and mind completely scattered. She was too busy pulling on her clothes in a hasty retreat to notice eyes glancing over every inch of her skin. Her feet were carrying her back to camp quickly, her toes barely skimming the dirt as the wind whipped through her hair—the forest scent a little different than before. The floral aroma seemed to lessen, the air alive with his dark scent—sweat and musk, as light as a summer breeze.

So these chapters are going to be one-shot length. I'm shooting for 2000+ words, I don't usually like to post anything less than that but if I feel the chapter should end in a place, it'll end in that place :)

Think I'll do sound next. Then sight, touch, and taste will be last. ;) Might switch the last two, Idk yet.

Anyway, hope I did well for my first fanfic for the 100 fandom. :):):)

Follow/favorite/review, do the lovely things you do!

Until next time, bye-bye! :)