#bellamy blake request

[artemiisx]

Lovable ꨄ

| Reader x Bellamy Blake (set in s1)

| Summary: y/n thinks she’s unlovable. bellamy steps into her life and loves her anyway.

| CW: self-hatred, lying, bit of angst, mostly fluff, use of curse words, bow and arrow in action, no smut.

While sitting at the campfire with many others from the hundred—discussing how you should go about the grounders—your eyes fixate on bellamy. the way the flame light makes his skin glow, the sound of his laugh—warming. you catch yourself smiling and quickly drop it as you remember how you got here in the first place. you were a criminal, stole medicine for your sister that was needed for a another patient. A patient in which that medicine was their last hope. You may have saved your sister, but the guilt of being the reason someone died, forever lived with you. you didn’t deserve love.

bellamy on the other hand has always persisted on the fact you’re lovable. you’ve been close friends since childhood so you understood the love bellamy had for you was only platonic.

you snap back from your thoughts as you hear someone talking.

“y/n? you alright?” bellamy says to you as you look up.

“hm- oh, yeah i’m just tired.” you say rather convincingly, even though you’re aware bellamy can read right through it. a silence sits for a few seconds before everyone goes back to talking.

you sit for a second longer before walking back to your tent—lost in thought.

after rounding a corner, you get to your tent and step inside. continuing to reason with yourself that you need to stop thinking about bellamy like that. so.. romantically. you convince yourself once again— that you don’t deserve love from anyone—especially him. not him and his gorgeous smile; him and his warming laugh, him and the way he always knows what to say to comfort someone; the way he cares so much. you and him may be destined to be close friends, but nothing more.

before you can think more, bellamy unzips your tent, pausing to look at you before stepping in.

silence fills the room (or should i say tent.. HELP i’m sorry that was so bad) before bellamy speaks.

“your act is almost believable.” dragging out “almost” referring to your answer from earlier.

you pause and look at him with a defeated and exhausted face, trying to think of a legitimately believable excuse.

bellamy places his hands on his hips and cocks his eyebrows up—waiting for an answer. you’ve recently noticed his underlying sass radiating off of him at times like this. cocky as ever knowing he’s right about you lying.

you sigh.

“it’s just been a long a day, bell.” you say as you let out a light nervous-laugh of exhaustion—your hands running through the crown of your hair.

bellamy shifts, his presence everlasting in this awkward moment. but despite the awkwardness—his features soften, like he’s about to say something—but doesn’t.

he clears his throat before finally speaking;

“well, i’m going out with the hunters at first light if you wanna join.” he says with confidence and a hint of awkwardness.

he swiftly yet softly looks at you—hands still resting on his hips, waiting for your reply as he hopes you’ll join.

“it’ll be good for you to get out of your thoughts for a day..” he says softer than before.

you twiddle; picking at your nails as you respond.

“uh, yeah. sure.” you say, plastering look bellamy can’t read.

you know you won’t be able to get out of your thoughts if you’re walking along with bellamy, but maybe you’ll find a discovery in those woods you’ll be able to busy yourself with.

“alright then.” bellamy says—still standing there.

you look up and lift an eyebrow, wondering why he’s still there.

bellamy makes eye contact with you, and a silence engulfs the air between you. the silence lasts for about 3 seconds before words are spoken.

“ok. yep. thats all.” bellamy says as he removes his hands from his hips and walks out the tent.

an awkward and silent moment sits after he leaves.

————

you spent the entire night thinking about him, despite all your efforts not to. And lucky for you—you’re going hunting with him today.

——

you and a few others wait at the gate of the camp for the rest of the hunters, including bellamy, to join.

“morning princess. you look great.” bellamy says sarcastically—back to acting like his usual self.

you’re aware of the eye bags under your eyes, but its not like you can reply back admitting its his fault.

that stupidly beautiful man.

instead, you reply with a nod.

bellamy starts speaking to the group as the rest finally gather around. “alright everyone. listen up. today we’re sticking in groups of two.” bellamy says with a condescending-rich tone; handing out the list of pairs.

you look down at your paper to find your name.

y/n yl/n, with bellamy blake.

you pause in defeat once again—whispering “shit” under your breath as you see bellamy approaching in your peripheral vision.

“alright, lets go.” he says, speaking softly.

————

after walking a while in an awkward silence—and meaningless conversations of “how the weather’s been..”

you spot a two headed deer. big enough to feed a bunch. you grab bellamy’s shoulder; pulling you both down to crouch behind a log. bellamy spots the prey before asking what that was for—he stays quiet—watching you raise your bow and arrow.

a silence of focus fills the air as you’re lining up your aim. you try to focus, but can’t, since bellamy’s eyes are basically shooting lasers; focused on you. you close your eyes and take a deep breath, hoping to ignore it. you take a second, finally shooting. but missing the deer by an inch; hitting its leg.

you shut your eyes together and take a breath out, disappointed in yourself—as you lower your bow.

——

��let get going.” you say as you stand up, avoiding eye contact with bellamy.

he simply nods, placing his hands in his pockets.

————

only a few minutes pass when you spot the same deer; arrow still in its leg. this time you don’t wait to crouch behind a log or tree, but raise your bow immediately. hoping to hit and redeem yourself. but you cant seem to focus again. with bellamy’s presence—and him watching your every move.

bellamy notices you tensing up. he steps up behind you and wraps his arms around you, placing his hands on yours, helping to aim the arrow.

——

“just breathe.” he says sternly, yet in a soft whisper.

you take a breath in and relax against him.

you aim, and shoot once again—finally making this shot. you lower your bow and smile.

not facing bellamy, you speak. “for the record, i weakened it by hitting it earlier—so none of that was your help.” you say in a joking matter; turning toward bellamy and slightly smiling.

bellamy smirks as he places his hands back in his pocket, while taking a step back.

“right.” he says as he nods with a playful smirk on his face.

you and bellamy start to walk over to the lying deer.

…

“hey, y/n.” bellamy says with a more serious yet gentle voice.

you pause in nervousness before replying. “hey, bellamy.”

he acknowledges your playfulness, but keeps it serious.

“be honest with me. what was really going on with you last night?”

you dont respond immediately, allowing for bellamy to speak again.

“listen, if someone is bothering you—“he says before he gets cut off.

“no one is bothering me. im fine.” you say; keeping your face turned away from bellamy.

bellamy reaches out and gently grabs your shoulder to stop your walking—turning you towards him.

you look to the ground, or to the trees behind him, avoiding eye contact.

“you need to quit lying to me y/n. we’ve been close friends since forever, and recently i’m starting to think you hate me. you’re more comfortable around people you don’t know than me, and i—“ bellamy rambles until he gets cut off once again.

“for fucks sake, stop criticizing yourself please.” you say aggravated, not allowing him to take any blame. you fidget and shake your hands down with hyperness—before leaning up to kiss him.

——

you quickly lean back, understanding your grave mistake—you totally just ruined everything.

“i-“ you say before this time, you’re cut off—by bellamy holding your face and kissing you back.

your eyes widen as you realize the current situation. you hesitantly relax into his arms—placing your arms around his neck, and running your fingers through his hair.

bellamy’s hands lower to your waist as you both pull away for a breath of air.

bellamy smiles.

“i dont deserve this.” you mutter.

bellamy’s smile drops as he rolls his eyes. “oh shut up. please, you deserve love more than anyone—for what you’ve been through.”

you scoff playfully, “everyone deserves to be loved then. everyone goes through shit.”

bellamy scoffs—smiling, leaning in to kiss you once again. a soft yet gentle touch, his lips puffy from the recent kisses.

“see, only you would say something so caring and thoughtful for others—princess.” bellamy whispers—as he kisses your forehead.

a/n: hoped you enjoyed, bare with me as this is my first ff ᰔᩚ

word count: 1.4k

[maddie0101]

desperate measures

— based off of THIS request. I hope you like it nonny! ❤︎

summary: murphy’s thirst for revenge forces bellamy into an impossible choice, himself for the reader and jasper. But deals with the desperate rarely go as planned, and the aftermath leaves nothing the same.

warnings: fem!reader, friends to lovers, violence, unhinged murphy (we love him in later seasons tho), mentions of hanging, bell almost dying, blood, reader has a mouth on her, protective!bell, hurt/comfort, happy ending, cussing, we don't like murphy in this fic, guns?, taunting, groveling!bell, reader gets injured, lmk if I missed anything?

word count:8.3k (yes, I’m actually insane)

note: based off the episode ‘we are grounders part one’. it is NOT exactly how the episode goes. I loosely wrote my own version but kept the same plot. I know the episode was a lot different to how I wrote this but idc, lol. enjoy!

The first thing you noticed was the cold, hard floor beneath you. The second was the dull, pounding ache at the back of your head. You groaned softly, shifting, only to realize that you couldn’t move your arms. Your wrists were bound behind your back, a rope biting into your skin and around your ankles, too.

Panic flickered through you, sharp and sudden. You blinked, trying to force your vision to adjust to the dim light around you. The metal walls, the familiar scent of rust and old fire—the dropship.

Why the hell were you in the dropship?

A groan beside you made you turn your head, your breath catching as you spotted Jasper slumped against the wall. His head lolled forward, and a thin streak of dried blood trailed down his forehead.

“Jasper,” you hissed, nudging his leg with your foot.

He let out a sharp breath, blinking sluggishly. His eyes flickered open, unfocused at first before they darted around, taking in the metal walls, the ropes, you.“What the hell?” Jasper mumbled, shifting against his restraints. His face twisted in confusion as he tugged at them. “Why am I—”

“Finally,” a voice cut through the air and your blood ran cold.

A slow, mocking clap followed, the sound bouncing off the dropship’s walls. Jasper inhaled sharply, his entire body going rigid beside you.

Murphy.

He stepped into view, his movements slow and deliberate. The rifle hung loosely at his side, his fingers drumming against the barrel. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something unhinged, as he looked down at you both. “About time you two woke up,” Murphy drawled, tilting his head. “Thought maybe I hit you too hard.”

Jasper stiffened. “You knocked us out?”

Murphy grinned. “What can I say? Didn’t think you’d come quietly.”

Your jaw clenched. Anger burned beneath your skin, hot and sharp, pushing back the fear threatening to take hold.

“What’s the matter, Murphy?” you sneered, lifting your chin. “Got tired of playing the victim, so now you’re back to being a psycho?”

Murphy’s grin twitched, his fingers tightening around the rifle. “There it is,” he mused. “That sharp tongue of yours. Always thought you were a little too bold for your own good.” He took a slow step forward, crouching in front of you. His eyes flicked over your face, his smirk widening. “Bet Bellamy just loves that about you.”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral.

Jasper, however, wasn’t as composed. “What the hell do you want?” he demanded, his voice sharp and laced with frustration. His breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling a little too fast — the panic was setting in, even if he was trying to hide it.

Murphy’s smile stretched wider, that twisted, smug grin that always made your skin crawl. His fingers flexed around the rifle at his side, a casual movement that felt far more threatening than if he’d actually raised it. Like he was just waiting for an excuse.

“Revenge,” he said simply, like the word itself should be enough to explain everything.

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” you muttered, your voice thick with sarcasm. “This is about the hanging, isn’t it?”

Murphy’s smile faltered, his expression hardening. His grip on the rifle tightened just enough for his knuckles to go white.

“Jesus, Murphy,” you scoffed, shifting against the rough rope that cut into your wrists. “You tried to kill people. Hell, you killed Charlotte. And now you’re throwing a tantrum because things didn’t go your way?” You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, that totally screams ‘victim.’”

“Careful,” Murphy warned, his voice low and sharp like the edge of a knife.

“Or what?” you shot back. “You’ll bore me to death with your sob story?”

His eyes darkened, something ugly flickering behind them. The air in the dropship seemed to shift, suddenly heavier, colder. Murphy took a slow, deliberate step closer, boots scuffing against the metal floor. “You always were a mouthy little bitch,” he muttered, voice curling with contempt.

You didn’t flinch, you refused to. Instead, you met his gaze and gave a cold, humorless smile. “Yeah?” you drawled. “Well, you always were a miserable little prick, so I guess we’re even.”

Murphy’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek ticking. “You really think this is funny?”

“I think it’s pathetic,” you snapped. “You’re pissed because Bellamy didn’t let you die? Seems like your real problem is that you’re still breathing.”

For a second, Murphy’s face twisted with pure rage that sharp, barely-contained violence that always simmered just beneath his skin, but then something cruel flickered across his features. His expression shifted, cold fury melting into something far more calculated.

His lips curled into a smirk.“I bet that’s why Bellamy likes you so much,” he sneered. “He’s got a thing for the feisty ones.”

Your stomach twisted. “Screw you,” you snapped, but there was an edge to your voice now, too sharp and too defensive.

Murphy’s smirk widened, and you knew he’d caught it. “Yeah,” he drawled, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “I’m sure that mouth of yours drives him crazy.” His gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate, like he was peeling back your defenses layer by layer. “Maybe that’s why he’s always hovering around you.”

Your chest tightened. “Go to hell,” you spat, but the words didn’t feel as steady as before.

Murphy chuckled, low and dark. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Jasper’s fingers twitched against the dusty floor of the dropship, eyes flicking toward the old radio lying just inches from his hand. Murphy had left it behind, probably too caught up in his own rage to notice.

Carefully, painfully slow, Jasper stretched his arm out, moving slow enough not to draw attention. His fingers brushed the edge of the radio. Murphy’s back was turned, still pacing and spitting insults your way.

"Go to hell, Murphy." You spat, anger only rising in your frame.

Murphy’s boots scuffed loudly as he stopped in his tracks, turning to face you again. “Careful,” he warned, voice low. “You’re not exactly in a position to be running your mouth.”

Jasper’s hand finally closed around the radio. He kept it close to his side, thumb pressing down on the transmit button. His pulse thundered in his ears.

“Or what?” you snapped. “You’ll whine me to death? Cry some more about how no one likes you?”

“You really wanna push me right now?” Murphy shot back, stepping closer.

“You already pissed off half the camp,” you said coldly. “What’s one more person who hates you?”

Murphy’s face twisted with rage, and before you could react, his hand shot out — backhanding you hard across the face. Your head snapped to the side, a sharp sting blooming across your cheek.

“Shut your mouth,” Murphy growled.

The radio crackled softly in Jasper’s hand, still broadcasting everything.

Bellamy was at the campfire, a rare moment of calm as he stripped a branch for kindling. The sounds of the camp buzzed around him. People chatting, the clang of metal, footsteps crunching on dirt. But none of that mattered when a voice — your voice, crackled suddenly over the radio.

“…already pissed off half the camp. What’s one more person who hates you?”

Bellamy froze, his hands tightening around the branch. His head jerked toward the source of the sound. What the hell?

The sharp crack of skin hitting skin shot through the speaker, followed by a sharp gasp. His heart dropped into his stomach. “Shut your mouth,” Murphy’s voice growled.

Bellamy was on his feet before he could think “Where’s that coming from?” he barked, spinning around.

Octavia bolted from the tent, the radio clutched in her hand. “It’s Jasper’s radio — it’s them. Murphy’s got them.”

Bellamy snatched the radio from Octavia, fingers curling tight around the device as he held it close to his ear. His chest tightened as Murphy’s voice came through again, smug and taunting.

“You think you’re so tough, don’t you?” Murphy sneered. “Bet you’re not feeling so smart now.”

“Oh, go to hell,” you shot back, your voice sharp and unwavering.

Despite the panic clawing at Bellamy’s ribs, he felt a flicker of pride. That’s my girl. You were still running your mouth, still fighting, but that pride was quickly swallowed by something else. Murphy’s not stable, Bellamy thought. She’s pushing him, and he’s just crazy enough to kill her for it.

His fingers tightened around the radio like it was the only thing anchoring him to the earth. His mind raced, anger boiling beneath his skin, fear gnawing at his chest.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” Octavia muttered behind him.

Bellamy’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt. He knew you. Knew that sharp tongue of yours, that stubborn streak that never let you back down — even when you should. Part of him was proud, hearing you stand your ground like that. But the rest of him? The part that knew Murphy was just unhinged enough to put a bullet in your head for pissing him off? That part was fucking terrified.

“She’s not gonna die,” Bellamy said, more to himself than anyone else. “I won’t let that happen.”

The radio crackled again.

“Look, man,” Jasper’s voice broke through the static, rough and desperate. “You don’t have to do this.”

Murphy’s bitter laugh followed. “Yeah, I really do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jasper pushed. “You got your revenge, right? He's already dead—”

“This isn’t about him,” Murphy snapped. “This is about me. About what’s gonna happen when your fearless leader finds out what I did.”

Bellamy’s fingers tightened around the radio, his heart hammering in his chest.

“What did you do?” you demanded, your voice sharper now.

“Shut up,” Murphy growled, his tone low and dangerous. “You’re just a bonus. You weren’t even supposed to be here.”

“Yeah?” you shot back. “Well, lucky me.”

Bellamy closed his eyes briefly, frustration boiling in his blood. Damn it, why couldn’t you just stop pushing him?

Murphy let out a dry chuckle. “You think you’re funny?” he sneered. “I’ll tell you what’s funny — the king losing his goddamn mind when he finds out."

“Finds out what?” you shot back, your voice sharp.

Murphy’s smirk widened. “That I’m the one who killed Connor.”

Your breath caught. Jasper stiffened beside you.

“You’re lying,” you said, but your voice wasn’t as steady as you wanted it to be.

“Am I?” Murphy’s eyes glinted with twisted satisfaction. “Ask Jasper.”

You turned to Jasper, who wouldn’t meet your gaze. His silence told you everything. A sick feeling curled in your stomach. “Jesus,” you muttered, turning back to Murphy. “You actually killed him?"

Murphy grinned, sharp and cruel. “Damn right I did.”

Jasper swallowed hard. “That’s why you took me,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Because I saw you.”

Murphy gave a mock bow. “Bingo. Knew you’d piece it together sooner or later.” His expression darkened. “Couldn’t have you running to Bellamy, now could I?”

You clenched your jaw. “And me?”

Murphy’s smirk returned. “You?” He chuckled. “You were a bonus.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. “See, when I heard you moving around upstairs, I thought, ‘Well, shit. That’s my lucky day.’ Knocked you out cold before you even knew I was there.” His grin widened. “Because what better leverage against Bellamy than you?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Murphy went on, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You really think he wouldn’t do whatever the hell I wanted to get you back? Hell, next to Octavia, you’re the best damn bargaining chip I could ask for.”

Outside the dropship, Bellamy’s grip on the radio tightened until his knuckles went white. His jaw was locked so tight it ached.

Murphy kept talking. “So yeah,” he continued, pacing now. “I’ve got all the cards. Bellamy’s gonna come running, and when he does—”

“You so sure about that?” you cut in, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Because from where I’m sitting, it kinda looks like you’re just another dead man walking.”

Murphy stopped pacing. His smile twitched, fingers flexing around the rifle at his side.

“You know,” you said, your voice tight with defiance, “for someone who acts like a victim, you sure seem to enjoy being a miserable asshole.”

Murphy’s expression darkened. “You really wanna run that mouth right now?” he growled.

“Why not?” you shot back. “You’ve already proved you’re a coward. What’s one more tantrum?”

His eyes flashed with rage. In one swift motion, he raised the rifle and pointed it directly at you.

Your pulse hammered in your ears, but you refused to flinch. “Go ahead,” you sneered. “Prove me right.”

“Murphy!” Bellamy’s voice exploded from the radio, sharp and furious.

Murphy jerked in surprise, whipping around to face Jasper, who was gripping the radio tightly, his thumb still pressed on the button.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Murphy snapped, storming over and snatching it from Jasper’s hands.

“Murphy,” Bellamy’s voice came again, colder this time. “You hurt either of them, and I swear I’ll kill you!”

“You’re in no position to make threats,” Murphy sneered into the radio, his fingers tightening around the device. His eyes glinted with twisted satisfaction. “But I’ll tell you what—I’ll make you a deal.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You swore you could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Murphy’s smile widened, sharp and cruel. “You for them,” he said. “Trade yourself for Jasper and her.”

Your stomach dropped. No.

Your head snapped toward Jasper. His face had gone pale, eyes wide with the same dread you felt clawing its way up your throat. He knew exactly what this meant. Bellamy wouldn’t be walking away from this — and Murphy fucking knew it.

“Don’t,” you whispered, voice barely audible. Your chest felt tight, like you couldn’t get enough air. “Don’t do it.”

The radio crackled.

“Deal.”

Your breath caught. “No!” you burst out, voice ragged. “Bellamy, don’t—”

Murphy clicked off the radio before you could finish “That’s enough out of you,” he muttered with a smug grin. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he turned to Jasper. “Well,” he drawled, voice dripping with mock cheer, “looks like we’re making a trade.”

“You’re gonna kill him,” you shot back, your voice shaking with rage. “That’s what this is — you’re setting him up to die.”

Murphy gave an exaggerated shrug. “Yeah? Not my problem.”

Your blood boiled. “You son of a—”

“Save it,” Murphy snapped, stepping forward and grabbing Jasper by the arm.

“Wait—” Jasper struggled, his eyes flicking desperately to you as Murphy hauled him toward the dropship door.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice cracking. “Murphy, don’t do this!”

Murphy didn’t even glance back. He shoved Jasper hard toward the exit, and Jasper stumbled forward, almost tripping over his own feet. Jasper turned, his gaze flicking between you and Murphy. His expression twisted in confusion and then realization.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Murphy barked.

“You said both of us,” Jasper said, his voice low and uncertain.

Your heart thudded painfully. Murphy’s smile stretched wider, colder. He turned, looking straight at you, and the smug glint in his eyes made your stomach turn.

“I lied.”

The sound of the dropship door clanging shut felt like a gunshot in your chest.

Bellamy stumbled forward, barely catching his balance as he pushed through the curtain. His gaze locked on you instantly, wide and frantic, but then his eyes shifted.

Murphy stood too close with his hand fisted in your shirt and his gun jammed against your ribs and Bellamy froze. His body went rigid, hands curling into fists at his sides. His chest rose and fell like he was barely holding himself together. “Let her go,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Murphy grinned, that smug, twisted smile that made your stomach turn. He didn’t move the gun “You’re in no position to be making demands,” Murphy sneered.

Bellamy’s eyes flicked to you again. You saw the way they dragged over you, the tension in your shoulders, the way you kept perfectly still, like any sudden movement might make Murphy pull the trigger. The rage simmering beneath Bellamy’s skin seemed to burn hotter.

“I said,” Bellamy growled, “let her go.”

Murphy snorted. “Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Bellamy took a step forward and Murphy’s finger twitched on the trigger. The barrel pressed harder against your ribs, and you sucked in a sharp breath.

Bellamy froze again, teeth clenching hard enough to make his jaw twitch. “I said both of them,” Bellamy snapped, his voice shaking with fury. “That was the deal.”

Murphy’s smile stretched wider, like he’d been waiting for Bellamy to lose it. “Yeah…” Murphy dragged the word out, mockingly casual. “But here’s the thing…” His gaze flicked back to you, cold and calculating. “I’m never letting her go.”

Your heart stumbled and Bellamy’s face twisted into something dark and dangerous. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” Murphy said, his voice tightening, “she means too much to me.” His fingers curled tighter in your shirt, dragging you closer like you were some kind of prize. “I’m not stupid. I know how much you care about her. You think I’d give up something that valuable?”

“You’re fucking sick,” Bellamy spat.

Murphy’s grin turned sharp. “Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But you know what’s funny? I don’t think you’ll do a damn thing about it.”

“You think I won’t kill you?” Bellamy shot back.

“Oh, you will,” Murphy said, pressing the gun harder into your ribs. You bit down a wince. “But not before I put a bullet in her first.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened, panic flickering behind the anger. His gaze shifted to yours again, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. Murphy kept his gun trained on you as he took a slow step back, dragging the moment out like he was savoring it.

“You know what’s funny, Bellamy?” Murphy mused, a bitter grin curling on his lips. “You standing here, looking so goddamn righteous—acting like I’m the bad guy.”

Bellamy didn’t answer, his jaw ticking as his glare burned into Murphy.

Murphy let out a dry chuckle. “Let’s take a little trip down memory lane, yeah? Let’s talk about how you kicked the box from under my feet and almost let me fucking hang.” His voice sharpened, the anger cutting through the mockery. “Let’s talk about how you banished me—left me to die—all for what? Justice?”

Bellamy’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, but his face remained unreadable.

Murphy scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He took another step back, finally putting some space between himself and you, but his gun didn’t waver. His free hand shot out, grabbing a nearby box, and with a loud scrape, he dragged it to the center of the dropship.

You glanced at Bellamy, confused, but he was just as lost as you were.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Murphy found couple of long, thick straps—seatbelts and ripped from the wreckage of the drop ship.

He tossed them toward Bellamy’s feet and Bellamy barely spared them a glance before his glare snapped back up.

Murphy smirked. “Make a noose.”

Your stomach lurched. “Murphy—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, not even looking at you.

Bellamy didn’t move. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle jump, his hands flexing at his sides like he was seconds from lunging.

Murphy sighed, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Bellamy,” he drawled. “You’ve done it before.” His smirk turned razor-sharp. “Should be muscle memory by now.”

Bellamy’s chest rose and fell, his breath coming heavier now. “You think this’ll make it right?” Bellamy said, voice low, shaking with restrained fury. “You think this makes you the good guy?”

Murphy’s face darkened. “I don’t give a shit about being the good guy.” His finger twitched on the trigger. “Now, make the fucking noose.”

Bellamy’s hands trembled as he twisted the seatbelt into a knot, his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping the worn fabric. The room felt suffocating, almost too quiet except for the faint sound of Bellamy’s ragged breathing.

“You know…” Murphy’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, cold and sharp. “The more I think about it… the more it makes sense.”

Bellamy didn’t react, keeping his eyes locked on the knot he was tying, but you saw the way his shoulders tensed.

Murphy leaned back in his chair, still keeping the gun trained on Bellamy. “The king and the queen,” he said with a mockingly sweet smile. “That’s what you two are, isn’t it?” He snorted. “Clarke’s the princess, the one everyone listens to… but you two?” He shook his head. “You’re the real power couple. Always side by side, always whispering to each other — doesn’t take a genius to see what’s going on there.”

“You’re full of shit,” Bellamy muttered, voice low and tight.

Murphy grinned. “Am I?” He gestured vaguely between you and Bellamy. “’Cause I remember how it started — you two couldn’t stand each other. Always bickering, always at each other’s throats.” His grin widened. “But then something changed, didn’t it?”

Bellamy’s hands stilled on the noose, fingers curling into fists.

“You started sticking close to each other,” Murphy continued. “Backing each other up, sharing those little looks. Always so protective of her…” His gaze flicked to you, and his smile turned colder. “And her? Man, she followed you around like a fucking shadow.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy snapped, his voice breaking.

But Murphy wasn’t finished. “I mean… it’s not hard to figure out why. I saw the way she looked at you — like you hung the goddamn moon.” Murphy chuckled darkly. “I bet she still does.”

“Murphy, I swear to God—”

“And you?” Murphy’s eyes slid back to you, sharp and calculating. “You’re just as bad.” His smile twisted into something cruel. “What’s it like knowing he’d do anything for you? Must feel pretty fucking special.”

“Stop,” Bellamy warned, his voice tight with barely restrained fury.

Murphy ignored him. His eyes stayed on you, cold and gleeful. “Tell me…” His smile sharpened. “Did you have to sleep with him to get him to care that much? Or did you just bat those pretty eyes and hope he’d notice?”

The words hit their mark like a slap, heat rising to your face. Bellamy shot to his feet so fast the chair beneath him scraped loudly against the floor “Watch your fucking mouth,” Bellamy snarled, his voice dangerously low.

Murphy just laughed, dark and humorless. “See?” he said, waving the gun toward Bellamy. “Look at him — all worked up just ‘cause I talked about you.” He smirked at you. “Man’s got it bad.”

Bellamy’s fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body tight like a wire about to snap. “You think this is funny?” Bellamy’s voice was rough, his eyes burning with rage. “You think you can push me until I break?”

Murphy’s grin widened. “I’m counting on it.”

Bellamy’s chest rose and fell in sharp, angry breaths. His fists were still clenched at his sides, his entire body coiled like a spring about to snap.

“Go on,” Murphy taunted, his grin widening as he turned the gun back on you. “Be a hero, Bellamy. Step out of line — give me a reason.”

“Don’t,” you said quickly, your voice sharp with panic. Your eyes locked with Bellamy’s, silently pleading for him to keep his cool. He was barely hanging on, you could see it in the tight set of his jaw, the fire blazing behind his eyes.

“Look at her,” Murphy sneered. “So worried about you. Almost sweet, isn’t it?” He chuckled darkly. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re in love with someone.”

Bellamy’s eyes flicked to you again, something raw and unspoken flashing across his face.

“Don’t know why you two keep pretending,” Murphy went on, voice smug and cruel. “I mean, we all see it. Even the damn kids back at camp talk about it.” He smirked wider. “Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were already screwin’.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bellamy growled.

Murphy’s smile sharpened. “What’s the matter? Don’t like me talking about your girl?”

“She’s not—” Bellamy started, but Murphy cut him off.

“Please,” Murphy spat. “I know you’d die for her. And her?” He shot you a pointed look. “She’d do the same for you. Stupid, isn’t it? All that loyalty, for what?”

“Because he’s worth it,” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

Murphy’s smile faltered, just for a second, and then he was laughing again, cold and sharp. “Yeah? We’ll see how much you believe that when he’s the one with the noose around his neck.”

Bellamy’s fingers twisted the belt in his hands, the makeshift noose tightening as he pulled the knot into place. His hands shook, sweat beading along his hairline despite the cold air inside the dropship. He kept his head down, jaw clenched so tightly you swore his teeth might crack.

“Alright,” Murphy said, voice smug and satisfied. “Get on the box.”

Bellamy’s fingers stilled. His head lifted slightly, eyes locking on Murphy. “You’re out of your mind,” Bellamy muttered.

Murphy’s smile widened. “I said, get on the goddamn box.”

“Bellamy, don’t,” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.

Murphy’s expression twisted, all smugness gone in an instant. Without warning, he whipped the gun toward you and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

You flinched hard, a sharp yelp tearing from your throat as the bullet struck the metal wall inches from your head. The sound rang in your ears, and your heart hammered against your ribs.

“Next one doesn’t miss,” Murphy warned coldly, his gaze snapping back to Bellamy. “Now, get your ass on the box, or she dies.”

“Alright!” Bellamy barked, pushing himself to his feet so fast the chair skidded back. His voice shook with anger and with fear. His eyes flicked to you for the briefest second before he turned and grabbed the wooden crate near the center of the room.

“You’re insane,” Bellamy muttered under his breath as he dragged the box into position.

Murphy grinned. “Yeah? Maybe. But you’re still the idiot standing on the box.”

Bellamy shot him a murderous glare but stepped onto the crate anyway. The wood creaked under his weight. His broad shoulders tensed, muscles coiled and ready, but there was no fight left to pick. Not when Murphy’s finger twitched so damn easily on that trigger.

“Bellamy…” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t. His focus was on Murphy, on the shaking gun, on whatever slim chance there was to turn this around.

“Alright,” Murphy said with a grin, tossing the loose end of the noose over the metal beam above. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.” Murphy tossed the loose end of the noose over the metal beam, the seatbelt strap hissing as it slid through his fingers. With ease, he secured the knot, yanking it tight until the loop hung in place, waiting.

Bellamy stared at it, his jaw clenched so tight you swore his teeth might shatter. His hands curled into fists at his sides, but he didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it.

Murphy cocked his head, a cruel grin tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong, Bellamy? Cold feet?” He tugged at the strap, testing its hold before stepping back. “That’s funny. Didn’t hesitate to kick the box out from under me.”

Bellamy’s eyes flashed with something dark, but still, he didn’t move.

Murphy’s grin widened. “Oh, I get it,” he drawled. “It’s different when it’s you, huh? When it’s your neck on the line?” He shook his head with mock disappointment. “Guess you’re not as tough as you like to pretend.”

Bellamy stayed silent. His body was rigid, tension rolling off him in waves, but he didn’t react, not in the way Murphy wanted.

Murphy’s smile twitched. He hated that. So, he turned to you. “Or maybe…” Murphy mused, his voice slow and taunting. “Maybe you just need the right motivation.” Murphy’s eyes slid toward you, and before you could blink, he raised the gun and fired.

The crack of the shot ripped through the air, deafening in the tight space. For a second, you didn’t feel anything, just a cold, hollow shock spreading through your body, but then the pain hit.

White-hot and searing. You screamed, clutching your thigh as blood poured from the fresh wound. It was everywhere, spilling through your fingers, soaking your clothes, pooling beneath you. The agony stole your breath, your vision blurring with tears.

“No!” Bellamy lunged toward you, but Murphy was faster.

“Back the fuck up!” Murphy barked, jerking the gun toward Bellamy’s chest. “You so much as breathe wrong, I’ll put the next one in her head.”

Bellamy froze, chest heaving, face twisted in fury. His eyes flicked back to you, and you could see it, the panic, the helplessness, the rage simmering beneath it all.

“Put it on,” Murphy ordered, gesturing to the noose. “Now.”

“Murphy,” Bellamy gritted out, voice low and dangerous, “don’t do this.”

Murphy’s eyes narrowed. “I said put it on.”

Bellamy’s gaze darted back to you, to the blood still pouring from your leg and something in him broke. Hands shaking, he grabbed the noose and slipped it around his neck.

“Good,” Murphy sneered. He gave the strap a sharp yank, dragging Bellamy closer until his boots barely touched the box. Bellamy choked, rising onto his toes, his fingers instinctively clawing at the strap.

“Stop!” you gasped through the pain, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “Please, stop!”

Murphy shot you a twisted smile. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” His gaze flicked back to Bellamy. “Hurts worse watching someone you love bleed out right in front of you.”

Bellamy’s face was turning red, veins standing out on his neck. His furious gaze never left Murphy.

Murphy chuckled darkly. He grinned at Bellamy, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. “Guess I can see why you love her. She’s a fighter — I’ll give her that. Not to mention…” His eyes dragged over you, lingering too long. “She’s easy on the eyes.”

“Don’t,” Bellamy ground out, voice raw.

“What?” Murphy smirked. “You pissed ‘cause I noticed?” He gave the noose another sharp tug, forcing Bellamy higher on his toes. “Or are you pissed ‘cause she’s bleeding out right now and you can’t do a damn thing about it?”

Tears streaked down your face as you squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to block out the pain. Bellamy’s face was darkening, his muscles straining to keep himself upright.

“You know,” Murphy mused, “if I were you, I’d start thinking about your last words.” He grinned. “’Cause I don’t think you’ve got much time left.”

Murphy’s grin widened as he gave the noose another hard yank. The strap dug deeper into Bellamy’s throat, forcing a ragged, strangled sound from him as his boots scraped against the box, barely keeping him upright. His face was turning red, veins bulging at his temples.

“You’re turning colors there, Bellamy,” Murphy sneered. “Starting to think you’re not gonna make it.”

Then there was a noise, faint but distinct coming from beneath the dropship.

Murphy’s head snapped toward the sound, his expression twisting in irritation. “Bet that’s your little grounder-pounder sister,” he muttered. His eyes narrowed, and before anyone could react, he fired a shot through the metal floor.

“No!” you screamed.

Bellamy’s instincts kicked in. Fueled by desperation, he lunged forward, yanking hard on the strap around his own neck and knocking Murphy off balance. The gun fired again, but the shot went wide, sparking off the metal wall.

“Son of a bitch!” Murphy growled, shoving Bellamy back and this time, his boot shot out, slamming into the box beneath Bellamy’s feet.

The box tipped over, crashing to the floor. Bellamy’s body dropped, and suddenly he was hanging, gasping, choking, his fingers clawing desperately at the noose cutting into his throat. His legs kicked out wildly, searching for something — anything to catch his balance.

“Bellamy!” you cried, panic crashing over you like a wave. You fought against your bonds, your fingernails tearing at the rope around your wrists. You twisted and yanked, sobbing through the pain.

Bellamy’s face was darkening, his gasps turning to garbled, desperate sounds. His fingers struggled at the strap digging into his throat, his eyes flicking to you wide with fear and pain.

The dropship door suddenly groaned and flew open, slamming against the wall.

“Shit,” Murphy hissed. He bolted for the ladder, scrambling up toward the second level.

“No, no, no!” you sobbed, still sawing at the ropes with your fingernails, desperate to break free as Bellamy’s body jerked violently above you. His kicks were getting weaker. His face was turning a sickening shade of purple.

“Hold on,” you begged him. “Please hold on.”

Murphy’s boots clanged against the metal rungs as he scrambled up the ladder, his breath ragged and frantic. He reached the second level, slammed the hatch shut behind him, and shoved the lock into place just as Octavia rushed inside the dropship.

��Bellamy!” she cried, her eyes widening in horror as she saw her brother dangling from the noose. Without hesitation, she ran beneath him, gripping his waist and trying to lift him. Bellamy’s weight sagged against her, his face blotched red and purple as his strained gasps turned weaker.

“Jasper!” Octavia shouted. “Cut the rope!”

Jasper didn’t hesitate. Grabbing a jagged piece of scrap metal, he lunged for the rope, sawing at it with desperate force. The fibers began to fray, splitting one by one. “Come on, come on,” Jasper muttered through gritted teeth.

Finally, the rope gave way, and Bellamy dropped like dead weight into Octavia’s arms. He collapsed to the floor, crumpling in a heap, his body jerking as he gasped for air.

“Bellamy!” Octavia knelt beside him, her hand on his chest, trying to calm him down. “You’re okay. You’re okay, just breathe.”

Someone rushed to your side, fumbling with the ropes around your wrists. The second they fell loose, you tried to stand, but pain shot through your leg like fire. You cried out, stumbling, barely able to keep your balance.

“Whoa, hey, easy,” the Harper said, looping an arm around your waist to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you ground out, teeth clenched against the pain. “I’m fine.” But you weren’t. Every step sent agony tearing through your thigh. Still, you forced yourself to limp forward, dragging yourself to Bellamy’s side.

His breaths were still rough and uneven, his face pale and drenched in sweat. His hand clutched at his raw, bruised throat, and his fingers shook violently. “Bell,” you rasped, dropping to your knees beside him. “Hey… hey, I’m here.”

His bloodshot eyes flicked up to meet yours, and something broke inside you.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Bellamy choked out, his voice hoarse and ragged. He shoved Octavia’s hand off his chest and lurched to his feet.

“Bellamy, wait—” you grabbed for him, but he was already staggering toward the ladder. He barely felt the pain, barely noticed the way his legs threatened to give out beneath him. All he could see was red.

He reached the ladder and climbed, ignoring the ache in his throat, the burn in his muscles. Reaching the top, he slammed his fist against the locked door.

“Open the damn door, Murphy!” Bellamy roared, his voice raw and broken. He pounded again, harder this time. “You think you’re safe up there? I’m gonna kill you!”

“Open the damn door, Murphy!” Bellamy roared, his voice hoarse and ragged. He slammed his fist against the hatch, metal rattling beneath his knuckles. His body ached and his throat was raw, his muscles screamed but none of that mattered. Not after what Murphy had done.

“You think you’re safe up there?” Bellamy bellowed, pounding again. “I’m gonna kill you!”

Suddenly, there was a click, the faintest sound, followed by Murphy’s twisted laugh from above “Yeah?” Murphy called back. “Good luck with that.”

Then came the boom. The explosion ripped through the dropship like a thunderclap, deafening and violent. Bellamy stumbled back, nearly losing his footing as the force of the blast knocked him away from the hatch. The floor shook beneath him, metal groaning in protest.

Smoke billowed from above, filling the air with the sharp scent of gunpowder and scorched metal. Bellamy’s ears rang, but through the haze, he saw it — a gaping hole where the side of the dropship used to be. Chunks of metal still crumbled away, clattering to the ground outside. And Murphy that bastard was already sprinting through the trees, making his escape.

Bellamy lunged toward the twisted wreckage, climbing over the mangled metal. “Murphy!” he roared, but the coward was too far gone, his dark figure disappearing into the woods. Bellamy’s fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. He could still feel the rope burn on his throat, still see the way you’d screamed when the bullet tore through your leg. He was going to kill Murphy.

“Bellamy!” Octavia’s voice yanked him back. He spun around, heart pounding as he stumbled down the ladder, nearly tripping in his rush to get back to you.

You were on the floor, pale as a ghost. Blood soaked your jeans, spreading fast. Harper was pressing a wad of cloth against your thigh, but her face was tight with panic. “She’s losing too much blood,” Harper said, her voice strained.

Bellamy dropped to his knees beside you, hands shaking as he took over. He pressed down hard, too hard and you let out a sharp cry. “Sorry,” Bellamy muttered, voice thick. His hand lifted just enough to ease the pressure. “I’m sorry… I just — I need you to stay with me, okay?”

Your eyes flickered open, glassy and unfocused. “I’m not going anywhere,” you mumbled, but your voice was barely a whisper.

“You better not,” Bellamy said, forcing a shaky breath. His hand found your face, thumb brushing along your dirt-streaked cheek. “I mean it… you don’t get to quit on me now.”

Your fingers twitched, weakly curling around his wrist. “I won’t,” you rasped. “I promise.”

Bellamy swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Good.” His voice broke. “Good… just… just keep your eyes on me, okay?”

But he felt your grip weaken your fingers slipping from his arm. Bellamy’s hands were slick with your blood, his fingers pressing desperately against the wound. His breath came in ragged bursts, panic clawing at his chest.

“No… no, no, no…” His voice shook as he pressed harder, trying to stop the steady flow of crimson. “Stay with me!” His voice cracked, raw and broken. “You hear me? Don’t you dare—”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes barely open, your skin deathly pale. Bellamy’s heart slammed against his ribs.

“Shit…” He whipped his head around, voice sharp. “I need something, anything to stop the bleeding!”

“Bellamy—” Harper stammered.

“Now!” Bellamy barked, his voice snapping like a whip. But before Harper could even move, the sound of footsteps pounded against the metal stairs outside. Bellamy’s head jerked up, muscles tensing as the door burst open.

“Clarke?!” Harper's stunned voice broke the silence.

Bellamy’s breath caught in his throat. Clarke stood in the doorway, chest heaving, her hair damp with sweat and streaked with dirt. She was back.

“Oh my God…” Clarke’s eyes locked on you, on the blood pooling beneath Bellamy’s hands and her face paled. “What happened?!”

“Murphy—” Bellamy’s voice wavered. “He—he shot her.” He swallowed hard, his voice breaking again. “I—I can’t stop the bleeding.”

“Move!” Clarke barked, already rushing forward. Bellamy didn’t hesitate, he slid back just enough to give her space, his hands hovering above you like he couldn’t bear to let go completely.

Clarke knelt beside you, her fingers moving fast as she ripped open her pack and grabbed supplies. “She’s lost a lot of blood,” she muttered under her breath. “Too much…”

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Bellamy’s voice was sharp, desperate. “Tell me she’s gonna be okay!”

“I don’t know yet,” Clarke shot back, pressing gauze hard against your wound. “But I need you to calm down.”

“Calm down?!” Bellamy’s voice rose. “She’s bleeding out, Clarke!” His voice cracked on your name.

“I know!” Clarke snapped, eyes flashing. “And if you don’t shut up and let me work, she won’t make it!”

Bellamy staggered back like he’d been slapped, chest heaving. His hands curled into fists, your blood still warm and sticky on his fingers.

“Please…” His voice broke softer this time, barely above a whisper. “Please… save her.”

Clarke’s expression softened for a heartbeat, but just as quickly, she refocused, her hands steady as she worked to save you.

A dull, aching pain throbbed through your thigh as you slowly drifted back to consciousness. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and faint traces of smoke from the campfire outside. Your limbs felt heavy, exhaustion still clinging to you, but you forced your eyes open.

Dim candlelight flickered across the canvas walls of the tent, casting soft shadows. It took a second for your mind to catch up, to remember what had happened. The dropship, Murphy, the gunshot...You sucked in a sharp breath, your body tensing in panic.

“Hey, hey,” a familiar voice broke through the haze, rough but gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Your eyes finally focused on the figure sitting beside you, slouched forward in a chair like he hadn’t moved in hours. Bellamy. His dark eyes were locked onto you, filled with relief but shadowed by worry. He looked exhausted, his jaw clenched, his hair a mess like he’d been running his hands through it over and over.

“Bellamy…?” Your voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

His whole body seemed to sag at the sound of your voice, like he’d been holding himself together by a thread. “Yeah. I’m here.” He leaned in, his hands hovering like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he should. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You swallowed, trying to shift, but a sharp pain shot through your thigh, making you wince. Bellamy was up in an instant, his hands gently pressing against your blanket-covered leg to keep you from moving too much.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You lost a lot of blood. Clarke patched you up, but you’ve been out for almost a day.”

A whole day? No wonder your body felt like lead. You exhaled shakily, letting your head fall back against the pillow. “Jasper?” you asked, your voice still weak.

“He’s okay,” Bellamy assured you. “Thanks to you.” His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away for a second before he looked back at you. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that.”

A small, tired smile ghosted over your lips. “Didn’t really have a choice.”

Bellamy let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” His expression softened, and this time, when his hand reached out, he let it rest over yours. His palm was warm, grounding. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” he said, voice rough with emotion.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, your eyelids already growing heavy again. “Can’t make any promises…”

Bellamy huffed out a breath but then his fingers curled around yours a little tighter, like he was anchoring himself to the feeling of your skin against his. His jaw clenched, his eyes flickering down to where your leg was still wrapped in bandages beneath the blanket.

“I should’ve done something different,” he murmured, his voice thick with guilt.

You frowned slightly, trying to shake off the haze of exhaustion. “Bellamy…”

“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “I should’ve—” His throat bobbed, his grip on your hand tightening. “I should’ve just listened to Murphy. If I had, maybe he wouldn’t have—” His breath hitched, and he looked away, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt. “You wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

You stared at him, barely processing what he was saying at first. “You think this was your fault?”

Bellamy let out a bitter laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course it’s my fault. Murphy wanted revenge on me. I hesitated and didn't listen, and because of that, he turned his gun on you.” His voice cracked, raw with self-loathing. “I should’ve done something...anything to stop it.”

You could see it now, the weight of it pressing down on him, the guilt drowning him. He wasn’t just shaken up from almost losing you. He truly believed that if he had done something differently, you wouldn’t be lying here, weak and wounded.

You hated seeing him like this.

Summoning what little strength you had, you shifted your fingers beneath his, giving his hand a small squeeze. “Bellamy, look at me.”

He hesitated before finally meeting your eyes, and the sheer torment in his gaze nearly shattered you.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you said firmly, even though your voice was still weak. “Murphy was unhinged. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t have shot someone anyway. The grounders will take care of him now.” You swallowed against the dryness in your throat. “You did what you thought was right and that's all that matters.”

Bellamy let out a slow, unsteady breath, like he was trying to believe your words but couldn’t quite let go of the guilt. His free hand hovered over your blanket-covered leg, his fingertips brushing the fabric just above the bandage. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admitted. “The second that gun went off, and you—” He cut himself off, inhaling sharply. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

The quiet confession sent warmth and pain curling through your chest all at once. You’d never heard his voice so raw, so vulnerable. “You didn’t,” you murmured. “I’m still here.”

His lips pressed into a tight line, his gaze searching yours like he wanted to believe you, but the guilt was still lingering, still gnawing at him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the distant crackling of the campfire outside, the muffled voices of the others going about their night.

Then then Bellamy did something that nearly stole the breath from your lungs. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing the softest, most fleeting kiss against your knuckles.

When he pulled away, his eyes locked onto yours, something unspoken burning in them. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you again.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the weight behind it was unshakable.

You felt your heartbeat stutter in your chest, your breath catching as you stared at him. There was so much you wanted to say. So many emotions swirled between you. Relief, exhaustion--something unspoken that had always lingered beneath the surface. But now, with his hand still wrapped around yours, his lips barely parted like he was holding back something important, you weren’t sure you could keep pretending anymore.

Bellamy exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching like he wanted to touch you again, like he wasn’t sure if he should. His eyes darkened, flickering down to your lips for just a second before meeting your gaze again. "I don’t think I can do this anymore."

Your brow furrowed. “Do what?”

His grip on your hand tightened as he leaned in ever so slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “Pretend like I don’t feel something for you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Like I haven’t felt something for you since the moment we met.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The exhaustion, the pain in your leg, everything else faded into the background.

He shook his head, his expression twisted in frustration, almost like he was angry with himself. “I was so damn scared to say it before. I told myself I couldn’t--there’s too much going on, too much at stake. But when I saw you lying there, bleeding out, I realized something.” He let out a shaky breath. “I can’t lose you. Not before I tell you that I—” He swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours. “I love you, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened, emotion swelling up inside you so fast it nearly stole your breath. You had dreamed about hearing those words from him, but hearing them now, spoken with so much raw, unfiltered honesty, was almost too much. Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, your fingers curling weakly around the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer.

That was all it took. Bellamy closed the distance in a heartbeat, his lips crashing against yours, urgent, desperate, like he had been holding back for far too long. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your skin, a contrast to the sheer intensity of the kiss.

You melted into him, your body still weak but your heart pounding, your fingers gripping onto him like he was the only thing tethering you to the world.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. “I should’ve told you sooner,” he murmured.

A small, tired smile played on your lips as you ran your fingers lightly over his shirt. “You’re making up for it now.”

Bellamy let out a soft, breathy chuckle, but when he looked at you again, there was nothing but pure devotion in his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead. “Not ever.”

And for the first time in a long time, despite the chaos of the world around you, you truly believed him. "I love you too, bell." You whispered with a soft smile on your lips.

author’s note:

heh, that was a long one 😅 if I’m being honest I really didn’t want to follow the episode exactly, so I just wrote from memory—but tweaked a few things.

also, I know I villainized murphy in this fic but I promise he’s still one of my favorites! I did hate him in s1 & s2, but he eventually grew on me and became of one my favorite characters in the 100.

I hope you liked it, nonny! y’all don’t be shy and send in some more requests! I don’t bite, I promise! ❤︎

— requests are open.ᐟᅟ please read request rules.ᐟᅟ

tags:

@rubydacherry42 @chalametsangel @imsiriuslyreal

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

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© maddie0101 do not copy or repost my works without my permission.

[palmerzy]

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes.

if anyone were to walk into bellamy blake’s tent, the image before them would appear innocent - a messy haired boy curled up with his girlfriend, his arm drawn across your waist. what they wouldn’t see is his cock stuffed deep into your cunt beneath the covers, still as a statue. the hand so ‘eloquently’ around your waist is instead dipping to rub tight circles against your clit whilst he tells you that he’ll only move when you’ve already come once.

bellamy blake, who tries his damn hardest to keep to his word, to prevent himself from driving into the girl before him with a pace so bruising you’d fear he might pierce through your tummy. every soft mewl you let out fuels the fire burning in his core to take you, to claim you, to fuck you until all you know is his name and the shape of his cock inside of you.

his patience is thin, and bellamy blake has never been one to hold back. he moves his fingers hastily until your jaw is dropping in a near silent screech, the digits of his free hand stuffing deep into the warm crevice of your mouth to silence you. he doesn’t want anyone else hearing how you writhe for him, and only him.

all bellamy blake knows by now is how to please you, to make it known that if you ever leave, nobody will bring you to the heights he does. nobody would position themselves behind you and imprint their cock quite so deep within you, deeming a thrust incomplete if his tip hasn’t smacked against the wall of your womb, if he hasn’t felt your cunt attempt to milk him dry before he’s even sheathed by an inch.

now if someone were to walk into bellamy blake’s tent, they would get a show.

[misscherry-26]

I saw you were taking requests for Bellamy Blake and I haddd to send one in!! Could you please write a lil spice fic, where they’re in the woods and get in a fight or sum n he js suddenly kissss her. Thank you twin!!

Unspoken Feelings

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for this!! My first request for Bellamy Blake. Oh the things I felt while working on this...👀 By the way I had to make a few changes, this is my most polished draft, haha. I'm so excited to share it, though I don't know how good I did with the spicy. I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting. ❤️

There could be grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.

He really thinks he’s the leader, the king of the earth. Self-centered egoist of a man. He can go fuck himself. You think as you walk through the woods in search of the plant that Clarke needs for Finn, who was attached by the grounder that kidnapped Octavia.

They managed to get him to the ship, but now he was struggling for his life. The problem was that the knife he was stabbed with was infected. Bellamy and his group got the grounder and tortured him to get information. Of course he refused to give it, that until Octavia threatened him to harm herself with the poisoned knife. Finn would live, but Clark needed more medicinal plants for him.

But of course, Bellamy Blake had to give his ultimatum that no one would leave the camp, no after realizing that you aren’t the only survivors of earth. He could care less about saving people, but you for sure didn’t. You don’t know Finn completely but, he deserves to live.

Since the ship landed on Earth, You and Bellamy have been at each other’s throat every single moment. It’s like you are locked in a never-ending battle, a constant clash of wills. Every decision he makes seems to deliberately oppose yours, every step he takes is a challenge to your very presence. He thrives in the chaos, you can see it in the way he strides trough camp, shoulders squared, head held high, daring anyone to question him. His motto—whatever the hell we want—rings in your ears like a taunt, a reckless mantra you can’t ignore. He embodies it with every decision, with every command he gives without caring for the consequences.

When he encouraged the others to rip off their bracelets, you felt the sting of frustration burning through your veins. To him it was a bold declaration of independence from the Ark, but to you, it was a hasty move to those above thinking Earth wasn’t livable.

And then, there was the Grounder. The way he’d dragged the man into camp, beaten and bloodied, as if his very existence was a crime that needed punishing. You left the room when he ordered the torture, convinced that brute force was the only answer. The look in his eyes then—cold, calculating, determined—was a look that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

He’s always there, hiding on the edges of your vision, challenging you. It’s infuriating, the way he dismisses anything resembling compromise or collaboration as weakness, how he scoffs at your attempts to hold onto something resembling order or morality.

Yet, there’s something in his attitude —something in the way he glances at you, a flicker of underdetermination, a tension that thrums between you like a wire. It’s in the way he steps closer when you argue, his body taut, like he’s gearing up for a fight he both craves and dreads. You feel it too—the tightness in your chest, the burn of frustration that’s more than just anger, something deeper, more complicated. You don’t know whether you want to scream at him or—

But no, you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he gets under your skin.

You take a look at the sky losing its light with each minute that it passes.

Taking a deep breath, you continue.

After what feels like hours of searching, you finally spot the familiar shape of the plant you’re looking for. You remember the details Clark gave you. Crouching down you carefully pull a small bag from your pocket. You work quickly, plucking the plants and stuffing them into the bag, your movements precise and purposeful.

But then—a sudden rustling, a low whisper of movement through the leaves nearby. Your heart stutters, and your breath catches in your throat.

Instinct takes over. You drop low, pressing yourself against the cold ground, hiding behind the broad leaves of the plant. Grounders, maybe.

They could be watching, waiting.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps, for the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves that would betray their presence. But instead, you hear a low chuckle—soft, mocking, and far too familiar.

Your eyes snap open, and you whip around, breath catching in your chest.

There, arms on his waist, is Bellamy. His eyes, dark and sharp, are fixed on you like a predator who has found his prey. His brows are drawn together, the muscles in his neck tense, and there's a fire in his gaze that blazes hotter than any annoyance you've seen before.

“I see you like to test my patience, Princess.” His deep voice cuts through the silence, pulling your gaze upward. He's standing right in front of you.

You get up immediately, your breathing and muscles relaxing at the notice that you are not in danger.

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his previous comment, turning around and continuing on getting more plants.

“I remember telling everyone to not leave camp, and that includes you too, you know? There’s no special treatment here.” You hear him from behind.

“I wasn’t going to sit around. Clark needs this for Finn.”

“He’s stable enough; we don’t need anyone else getting hurt over this.” Bellamy insists, his tone sharp.

You clench your teeth and turn. “Look, I couldn’t care less what you think. I don’t go by your rules.”

Bellamy scoffs and grabs your arm. You let go of his grasp as soon as he starts walking.

“Don’t touch me!”

Bellamy watches you, wondering why you are being stubborn right now. Hell, he even wonders why he came here for the first place. Was he worried about you? Why did he come here? He questions himself. Bellamy’s mind races, battling with the tangled web of his feelings. He’s been fighting to keep everyone safe, to enforce rules that seem cold but necessary, and yet, here he is, breaking his own rule because of you.

Truth is, you have been nothing but a burden to him every single day since they put a foot on earth. Your defiance, your refusal to follow orders, your reckless bravery—all of it has been a thorn in his side. Every day, you challenged his authority and decisions, and yet, despite all the friction, despite the constant arguments and the resentment, there’s something about you that pulls at him.

He can’t quite distinguish it, but it’s there—a magnetic pull that makes him question his own motives and feelings. It’s in the way you stand up for what you believe in, even when it puts you at risk. It’s in the fire and determination in your eyes, something that resonates with him on a deeper level than he’s willing to admit.

The frustration he feels is braided with an unspoken admiration, a bittering respect that complicates his emotions even further. Bellamy is torn between his duty and the sudden impulses of something else—something he can’t easily define or control. It’s a vulnerability he hasn’t allowed himself to explore, and it confuses him.

All he knows is that despite the danger and the defiance, he can’t seem to turn his back on you. His frustration is laced with a deeper, more complex emotion that makes him question why he’s so determined to keep you safe.

He thought you would be this scared of everyone and everything type of girl, but you prove him all the opposite.

“Let’s go back—”

“I won’t.” You cut him off, not giving him a chance to say anything. You turn again and continue with your job.

Of course, you hoped that he would go and leave you alone. You hoped.

Next thing you know, your feet aren’t touching the ground and you are being lifted up by him. A few leaves escape your grasp, so you make sure to close the bag.

“Let me go!” You protest.

“Stop screaming, you are putting us in danger” He doesn’t listen to your request, instead he walks back to camp.

You scoff, moving frantically. “If you cared so much about safety, you wouldn’t be carrying me off like I’m just another pack to you!”

Bellamy's jaw clenches, and he stops abruptly, eyes scanning the surrounding woods.

“You’re the one making noise,” he retorts, setting you down but not releasing his grip entirely. “Keep quiet or—”

You hear it then—a rustling of leaves, far too close, far too deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s not just the wind. Bellamy stiffens beside you, his grip on your arm tightening reflexively.

For a split second, your eyes meet, and you both know: the Grounders.

“Run,” he whispers, urgency dripping from the word.

But there’s no time to argue. You both take off, feet pounding against the damp earth, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The sounds behind you grow closer—footsteps, which makes your heart race even faster.

Up ahead, you spot a dark opening—a cave, half-hidden by foliage. You yank Bellamy toward it without thinking, and for once, he doesn’t resist. Both dive inside, pressing against the cold rock. The cave is narrow, suffocating, but it’s cover.

Outside, you hear the murmurs and footsteps of the Grounders drawing near. You hold your breath, every muscle tense. Bellamy’s hand is still around your wrist, and you can feel his pulse racing just as fast as yours.

“We’re not going anywhere until it clears. We need to stay inside.” he mutters, barely audible.

Bellamy presses a hand against the small of your back, steering you deeper into the cave, his touch firm, almost commanding. You feel the heat of his palm through your shirt, and it sends a jolt of anger through you.

“Get your hand off me.” You snap, jerking away from his touch. But the cave is too narrow, and he doesn't give you much space to maneuver.

His jaw tightens, and he steps even closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I’m trying to keep you from getting killed.”

You dig your heels in, resisting just to spite him. “I don’t need you to save my life, Bellamy.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it—just a sharp, bitter edge. “You think I want to be stuck here with you? Trust me, Princess, this is the last place I want to be.”

You whirl around, stepping closer, your chest brushing against his, both of you too angry to care. “Then why are you here?” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “Why do you always have to control everything? Who made you the boss of me?"

His hand, still on your back, clenches into a fist, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.

“Maybe because I’m trying to keep you alive!” he spits out, his face inches from yours, his breath hot. “You are always doing this—taking risks, getting in my way. Do you have a death wish?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, anger flaring into something more intense. “No, but maybe you do,” you whisper fiercely. “Coming out here, risking your life for someone you supposedly can’t stand. What is it, Bellamy? Why do you even care?”

He grits his teeth, and you see something flicker in his eyes—a momentary crack in his armor. “I don’t!” he snaps, but his voice lacks conviction, faltering on the last word.

“Liar,” you accuse, stepping even closer, your forehead nearly touching his. “If you didn’t care, you’d have let me go. You wouldn’t have come after me, wouldn’t have—”

His grip tightens on your arm, and his other hand moves to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” His voice is low, almost a growl. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

You tilt your chin defiantly, eyes blazing. “Why don’t you just admit it? All this, you’re not really angry. You’re scared. Scared of what might happen if you lose control. Scared of what it means if something happens to m—"

But he doesn’t let you finish. In the blink of an eye, he’s on you, lips crashing against yours with a force that takes your breath away. The kiss is rough, almost bruising, a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something desperate. You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, before the shock melts into anger again, and you shove against his chest.

He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he presses you harder against the cold, cave wall, his body flush against yours. His hands move up, one sliding to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while his mouth claims yours with a furious intensity, like he’s trying to silence every word, every protest.

Your heart is racing, your thoughts a tangled mess. You should push him away again, should shove him back and yell in his face, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in his shirt. It’s like all the anger, all the arguments have boiled over into this—this raw, heated clash of mouths and tongues.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are panting, breaths coming fast, and his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still dark with emotion.

“Why do you care?” you whisper again, but this time your voice is softer, less certain.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and his gaze is intense, almost searching. “I don’t know,” he mutters, but there’s something vulnerable in his tone, something that makes your heart ache even as your anger simmers beneath the surface.

“Maybe I’m frustrated…so damn frustrated because—” He hesitates, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “—because you’ve got a way of getting under my skin, and it’s driving me crazy. But yeah, there it is. I’m worried. Happy?”

His lips are so close you can feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world has narrowed to just the two of you, trapped together in this cave, trapped by something you can’t name.

"Bell..." you start, but he silences you again, this time with a softer kiss, one that seems to ask for something instead of demand it.

His hands slips down to the curve of your waist pulling you even closer, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, heat pounding low in your belly.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers locking on his dark strands. The kids deepens, growing more urgent, desperate, as if both of you are trying to pour all this unspoken feelings into a single, shared breath.

And you know that whatever this is, you are not ready to stop it. Not yet.

[bellamyblake]

Random Bellarke moments (pt.8)

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Can't Loose You Too

Request: okay hear me out please 🤞 what if the reader got captured by the grounders and bellamy freaks out but their not like a thing yet so like friends to loverss(ish) and he gets them back and spills his feelings cause he’s scared he could lose them 🤷🏻‍♀️ if you don’t have time or just don’t wanna write this do not feel pressured to at all 💕💕 - @ravenmedows

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: So I wrote this to be set in between S1 and S2. I feel like it just fit the best because relationships were established. I also wrote in Bellamy's POV, to help show Bellamy's emotions and his side. Although it's more like a 3rd person view. I hope you enjoy reading!

You’re assigned to go patrol and hunt around Arkadia, even though it was your least favorite assignment. It was more bearable by the fact that you’d be doing it with your friends. While most of the adults didn’t want you guys to exactly pursue Clarke, you guys had used patroling as an excuse to get any information you could. 

You head to the garage to find and meet up with everyone,”Hey, where are we headed this time?” You ask walking up to Bellamy.

“Sector 7,” He responds.

“Again? We should try looking somewhere else,” You say, knowing that you’ve had no luck in that sector.

“Sector 7 is our best chance. Besides that’s where we were assigned,” Bellamy says sternly.

“Fine,” You respond and head outside.

“Where’s she going?” Monty asks as you walk off. You head towards the horse stables and find Octavia getting her horse ready to head out.

“Don’t wanna ride in the Rover?” Octavia asks as you head to tend to your horse, Archer.

“You know I prefer to ride on the back of a horse,” You chuckle. 

You gather everything else that you need, water, your knives, and a bow and arrows. You and Octavia head out and meet everyone else at the front of the garage. Once it looked like they were ready you all ride out to Sector 7. You all make it to the edge of the forest, you stop and tie Archer up to the Rover.

“Alright everyone, you know the drill. Stay in pairs, don’t stray too far from the group, and radio if you find anything suspicious,” Bellamy says. You stick with Octavia and all head into the forest.

It seemed pretty quiet for the first few moments, until you heard a hog in the distance. You signal Octavia to let her know where you were going. After a few feet you see the hog in your view. You prepare your arrow and aim. As soon as you release your arrow, you felt a stinging pain in the back of your thigh. You felt the area and it wasa knife lodge into your leg. Before you could process anything else, you feel yourself picked up by someone on a horse. At first you thought it was Octavia but as soon as you looked up, it was a grounder.  You scream out trying to warn your friends, knowing there was more grounders around.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~

As Bellamy was looking around for anything to hunt, he hears a scream in the distance. Somehow he immediately knew that it was Y/N. He and everyone else, ran towards the scream, not caring that there may be more danger in the area. Soon enough Y/N with a grounder on the back of a horse, came into view. He started to run faster towards them as a horn warning was blown. But he didn’t stop until Octavia started to pull him away.

“Stop struggling,” Octavia strains trying to keep a hold onto her brother.

“We have to help them,” Bellamy yells.

“We can’t help them if we’re dead,” Monty says, jumping in to help Octavia and pull Bellamy to safety. They weren’t sure what the horn was blown for, since the acid fog was disabled, but it couldn’t have been good.  Soon enough it sounded like there were even more grounders out in the forest.

~ Y/N’s POV ~

You started to fade from the loss of blood, but the sound of a horn woke you up again. The grounder starts to ride faster until you got to an enclosed cave. They dismounted their horse and set you on the ground. You stayed silent and still not knowing what would happen next.  They took you off of the horse and set you on the ground. Next, they took the knife out of your leg, wrapped the wound up and bounded your hands. You could hear what sounded like a thousand footsteps and hooves outside the cave.

A few hours went by and your were suddenly woken up by a group of grounders making their way into the cave. At first they were communicating in Trig only, where you could only pick out a few phrases. “Did Azgeda hear or see you?” You pick out from the conversation between the grounders. 

“What’s your name, sky person?” One of the grounders then asked, you stayed silent. They asked once more, but you stayed silent again. Frustrated they gag you and put a bag over your head. Your body is then lifted and put onto a horse. 

What feels like a couple hours go by and you finally slow down to a stop. You were picked up once more and plopped onto the ground. The bag was taken off your head and you were greeted by the bright sunlight and a metal door slamming. A few more grueling hours went by until someone finally came and brought you food. 

They shoved it under the door and pulled up a chair. You didn’t touch the food and the grounder took notice, “Eat,” He says. You refused to take food from them, didn’t want to risk  being poisened. “What’s your name?” He asks next.

You kept your mouth shut, not wanting to give them anything. You weren’t exactly sure why grounders would be aggressive towards you and your people again, it seemed like Clarke had made sure that they wouldn’t be a nuisance again.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~ 

The whole ride back to Arkadia was completely silent. Bellamy couldn’t help but think of how he lost Clarke but also you now. Once the rover had pulled into the garage, Bellmay immediately got out.

“Where are you going?” Monty asks. Bellamy doesn’t respond and keeps walking away. Octavia follows after her brother into the map room.

“Bell…Hey Bell?” Octavia asks trying to get her brothers attention. He ignores Octavia and looks at the map to see where Y/N could’ve possibly been taken. “Bellamy?!” Ocatavia says once more pulling the rolling board away from him.

“What?!” Bellamy responds angrily.

“Slow down,” Octavia tells her brother.

“I can’t. Not while Y/N is out there,” Bellamy says.

“You can for a moment. Y/N is strong they’ll be ok until we can find them. Let’s just rest and figure a game plan. Not rush into things,” Octavia logically explains to Bellamy.

“What other grounder clans were we close by?” Bellamy says completely ignoring his sister.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Octavia questions.

“Look Octavia. Clarke is out god knows where and now Y/N has been kidnapped by grounders.  I can’t just sit here and do nothing. We need to find them before anything bad happens,” Bellamy says walking back over to the map board. 

“I’m not saying we do nothing. I’m just saying that we slow down and figure out the best plan of action instead of rushing into things,” Octavia says.

“You’re right. I’m just– just worried about them,” Bellamy sighs.

“I am too. Let’s go get some food and chat with the others,” Octavia leads Bellamy to the mess hall.

~ Y/N’S POV ~

It’s day two since you’d been captured. You hadn’t eaten a thing or given up any information. In fact you hadn’t talked at all. They just kept asking for your name and what you knew about Wanheda. You had no clue who in the hell Wanheda was. 

“Eat,” The man says bringing you more food and taking the old food out. After a few minutes another man comes barreling in, he says something in Trig that you couldn’t understand before coming up to the bars.

“You’re not gonna talk, huh?” the man says before opening the door and yanks you out of the cell. You’re pulled over to a pole and have your hands bound around it.

“Where is Wanheda?” The man asks. You stay silent. Next thing you know you feel a punch to your stomach. The man asks the same question over and over again, with the same result, no words and some form punishment.

The man still received no answers from you by the time to sun set. They left you bound to the pole, you guess so that they can try to get answers out of you tomorrow. You still couldn’t imagine why they’d think you know something about someone named Wanheda.

~Bellamy’s POV~

It had been a long past two days inspecting the maps and going out to scout for Y/N. Bellamy has gotten barely any sleep. He’s at a loss of where Y/N could possibly be.

“Bellamy you need to sleep,” Octavia says.

“No,  I’m close. There’s only so many places left that Y/N could be,” Bellamy says, blinking his eyes to stay awake.

“I’ll sort the areas. Go get some sleep. If we want to find them, I need you at 100%,” Octavia scoots her brother out of his chair.

“Fine, but were going out first thing in the morning,” Bellamy says exiting the room.

The next morning Bellamy finds Octavia passed out at the desk, “Hey, how long were you up?” Bellamy asked his sister.

“Oh hey, uhhh I’m not sure. But I think I’ve figured out where Y/N might be,” Octavia says.

“Where?” Bellamy asks excitedly.

“Well, I remembered that Lincoln told me about this small village that was just outside of Trikru’s territory. They kind of outcasted themselves, not super friendly to outsiders,” Octavia explains.

“Let’s head out,” Bellamy says and goes to gather everyone. As everyone begins to head out they notice a group of people standing at the gate. Of course it was none other than Kane, Abby and a few other adults.

“Where are you going?” Kane asks the group.

“To find Y/N,” Bellamy answers.

“We think you’ve all spent enough time. I think it’s time we handle this before one of you is also taken or hurt,” Kane responds back.

“We know where they are, we can get them,” Bellamy fought back.

“Go back to your jobs,” Kane says in response. 

At first no one budged until Abby spoke up, “Now, unless you all want citations.”  

“Bellamy,” Kane stops him before he could get too far. “Show me where you think Y/N is,” Kane says walking with Bellamy to the map room.

About an hour went by and it had looked like the adults had taken a group out to find Y/N. After another hour or so, the group gathered and snuck out to really find Y/N. As Bellamy had directed Kane’s people in the opposite direction.

~ Y/N’s POV ~ 

The next day you were so weak front being forced to stand up. To your surprise you were woken up by someone tipping a cup of water to your mouth. Next they fed you some fruit, you tried to resist but they kept pressing the fruit to your mouth.

“You ready to give us some answers?” The man from yesterday asked. Again you kept your mouth shut. A few more hours of interrogation go by, but this time the man keeps his hands to himself. As if he was trying to give you a break.

“Someones here for you,” A woman says to the man after a few hours go by. The man reluctantly leaves the area to investigate. 

You stand there with weak legs trying to keep your body up. As you were about to pass out you feel gentle hands touch your cheeks. You flutter your eyes open and see a worried Octavia inspecting you. She quickly moves to unbound your hands, as soon as you’re unbound, your body just buckles underneath you. Before you hit the ground your body is lifted, you look up and see a just as worried Bellamy. 

“We need to get them back to camp quickly. They’ve lost a lot of blood and are weak,” Octavia says hastily. 

Ater a long trek back to Arkadia, you can see that you’re being greeted with a group of adults from inside the gates, “Told you we could find her,” Bellamy says walking past Abby and Kane.

“Take her to medical,” Abby says quickly noticing your condition. Bellamy gently walks you to medical and lays on top of a gurney. Abby comes to inspect your injuries, “Everyone out,” Abby orders your friends to leave. At first you could see they were reluctant before Abby begins to shuffle them out.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~

Bellamy waits anxiously from outside medical. After a few hours go by, he couldn’t wait any longer and decides to make his way into the ward. Abby greets him before he could make his way through the door.

“I figured you’d be anxious to see how she is,” Abby says stopping him.

“H–How is she?” He struggles to get out.

“They’ve sustained a lot of injuries, are dehydrated and lost quite a bit of blood. But they should be ok. But they can’t leave the ward for at least a day or two, I’d like to keep an eye on them. After that they should stay inside Arkadia,” Abby tells Bellamy. 

“Can I see them?” Bellamy asks.

“They’re asleep and needs to rest. Maybe tomorrow,” Abby tells Bellamy and points him to the exit. 

~ Y/N’s POV ~

You blink your eyes open and blinded by the brighter lights of the room. You lift your head and look around. Landing your eyes on a Bellamy sitting in a chair with his eyes closed. As you make a bit more noise by sitting up, Bellamy opens his eyes and moves to the cot. 

“Hey,” Bellamy speaks softly.

“Hey,” You say even quieter as if you had lost your voice. “How long was I asleep for?” You ask.

“About 10 hours,” Bellay answers, surprising you at the long length of time. “How are you doing?” Bellamy asks. 

Before you could respond, you see a mob of your friends approaching you. Each of them asking how you are and if you need anything. Soon enough Abby shuffles her way in, “Everyone out, she still needs to rest,” Abby says gently leading each of your friends out.

“How are you feeling?” Abby says approaching you as the last one leaves.

“Still tired and weak, but otherwise fine,” You say.

“Good, I’ll run some final tests and then you should be good to go,” Abby says. You spend the next hour with Abby inspecting your physical condition and asking you to do various tasks. “You’ve cleared all the tests. Although I still want you to take it easy, until you feel 100%. So that means no physically taxing work and staying inside Arkadia,” Abby tells you.

You were about to walk off until you realized that Abby wanted you to acknowledge her orders, “Ok,” you respond still trying to find your voice.

You head out of the ward and go to the mess hall, finding yourself very hungry after refusing food for several days. You try to find a quiet corner to eat but Monty had approached you. And you felt bad refusing to sit with him since you knew that your friends wanted to know you were ok. More of your friends slowly joined your table and soon enough it was a bit overwhelming. You get up and it seemed that everyone had noticed.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asks.

“I just wanted to go lay down for a bit,” You respond.

“Why don’t I walk you,” Jasper offers getting up from his seat.

“It’s ok. Thank though,” You say and walk off before anyone else could say anything.

The next day you went to go help out around Arkadia, sticking to the lowest impact type of work. Every few hours it seemed like one of your friends had something to say about resting or asking to help. It became to much and you didn’t like how they were trying to baby you. They knew that you know your limits, so you weren’t sure why they were being such helicopter friends. Once you were able to get away from your friends prying eyes, you head to the stables. You walk into Archer’s stable to see your horse for the first time since you were back. 

“Hey, I’m home, safe,” You say to comfort Archer.

You sat quietly with Archer until you hear soft footsteps approach, “I’m fine,” You say sternly as you hear the footsteps stop at the front of Archer’s stable, standing up as if you were about to leave. “Sorry,” You apologize looking up to see Bellamy. The one person who hasn’t been bothering you all day.

“It’s ok. I was just coming to check on Archer. But since you’re here, how are you feeling?” He asks walking into the stable.

“Fine,” you quickly answer.

“You sure?” He asks, clearly picking up on your attitude and moving closer to you.

You sigh heavily, “No. Everyone just keeps checking on me. I appreciate it but I’m feeling babied. I just want to rest and get back to 100% as soon as possible. They’re just stressing me out,” You admit.

“They just don’t want you to get hurt…anymore. Make sure that you’re recovering quickly, “ Bellamy advocates for your friends.

“I know but it just kinda feels suffocating,” You confess.

“I’ll let them know to back off a little,” Bellamy says, knowing that you’d appreciate that.

“Thanks, and for checking on Archer,” You say letting out a small smile.

A few hours later you were getting ready to sleep for the night. As you were just about to get in bed to relax, there’s a knock at your door. You open it and are greeted by Bellamy.

“Hey, what’s up?” You ask letting him in.

“I just wanted to check on you. I know what you said earlier, but I figured that I’d still make sure you were ok after your first full day back,” Bellamy says. You picked up the slightest quiver in his voice, leading you to believe that there was more.

“I'm feeling better. Thanks for talking to everyone,” You smile.

“Good,” Bellamy says awkwardly. He was about to walk out but stops himself, “Actually I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to earlier but I figured you needed your space,” Bellamy says referring to your hiding spot.

“What is it?” You ask curiously. 

“I’m sorry it took three days to find you. And that you went through all of that pain. I’m sorry that you were taken in the first place, it was my fault, I should’ve been more vigilant. And I’m sorry that I didn’t come see you sooner,” Bellamy lets out. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fact that he was blaming himself for what happened, blaming himself for the pain that was inflicted on you.

“Hey, hey, hey. None of this was your fault. You couldn’t have know that there were grounders there. You weren’t expected to know exactly where I was. What really matters is that you didn’t give up, you worked your ass off to find me, now I’m safe and home,” You say and find yourself swinging your arms over his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug. He seemed to have settled himself into your  body, as if he could finally relax. 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you too,” Bellamy confesses. 

You don’t respond to what Bellamy says, but pull out of your hug after a few minutes, finally taking a look at his face, “You look tired. Is it really true what Octavia told me? That you didn’t really sleep for the whole three days?” You ask as you can read how tired he is. He lightly nods his head, not wanting to admit it. 

You settle yourself into your bed, tired from standing so long, “ I just wanted to find you before anything bad happened,” Bellamy says, laying his body next to yours.

“That deosn’t mean that you had to put your own health at risk,” You say turning your body to face him. 

“I know, but I just needed you back. I missed you,” He softly speaks turning his head to face you.

“I missed you too,” You move to rest your head on his chest.

The next morning you wake up and turn over to find a peacefully sleeping Bellamy. You had almost forgotten that he never left. But you didn’t mind, it comforted you knowing that he stayed, “Morning,” You say softly after kissing his forehead to wake him up.

“Morning,” He says raspily with a smile forming.

[ilguna]

☼ warfare (Bellamy Blake) ☼

summary; when everyone in camp starts becoming ill, you volunteer to help, not knowing that your boyfriend would come down with it, too.

warnings; swearing, ehh gore, weapon mention.

wc; 4.8k

–

You pull your boot on, stomping your foot into the dirt to make sure it’s on all the way, straightening the tongue to make it more comfortable on your foot. You yank at the laces to tighten them, liking your shoes on nice and tight, but not enough to cut off circulation.

You hate it when you sleep in so late, it’s never on purpose. It makes you feel like you’re not pulling your weight, when everyone else has been working for hours, and you’re just getting up. In reality, you tend to work the overnight shifts at the wall for the people who don’t want to do it, because you don’t mind. You work just as hard as everyone else does.

You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, letting out a loud yawn. The only reason why you’re even awake in the first place, is because of a sliver of sunlight that managed to make it through a rip in the tent. It happened to land right on your face, and after so long, you couldn’t sleep through it anymore.

You crouch, lifting up the corner of the makeshift mattress to find your knife underneath, pulling it out. You flick it open, checking to make sure that it’s clean, before closing it. If it were up to you, you’d sleep with it underneath your pillow. The issue is that you share the bed with Bellamy, and he has a habit of sticking his arm beneath the pillow. You found that out after he cut his bicep by accident last week, because you like to keep it open for faster and easier access.

You tuck it into your pocket, before heading out of the tent. The sun is bright, blinding you slightly. You squint through it, listening to the commotion that’s happening out here. When you can finally see, you can see there’s a problem unfolding next to the fire. Where you usually find most people gathered to keep warm, there’s only one that’s sat in front of it.

It’s Derek, he’s got blood smeared around his mouth, hand cupped beneath his chin.

Your face twists, dropping the tent flap behind you so it can fall back into place.

Clarke suddenly rushes past you, heading for the dropship. From a brief look at her, you can see red smeared beneath her eyes, almost reaching her chin. You follow after her, checking behind you to see if there’s anyone else. Only, you see that there’s a semi-circle around Derek now, barely propping himself upright.

“What have I missed?” You ask, jogging to catch up with Clarke.

“I think that whatever Murphy has is spreading.” She says, giving you a look over her shoulder. “To everyone that gets too close.”

You’re sure the last comment is her way of trying to tell you to back off because you might get sick, but you continue after her. She walks up the path and into the dropship, holding the curtains open long enough for you to catch them, being mindful to move when you get close.

Inside, you can hear wet coughing. Around Clarke, you can see Murphy’s beaten up body, hunched over the floor. When he showed up yesterday, there were a lot of mixed reactions. A lot of people were pissed that he was let back inside, human emotion took over when you all realized how bad of a condition he’s in.

You can’t say that you feel bad for him, though. He’s gotten everything that’s deserved to come for him so far, and you guess this is just another round of it. He looks like hell.

He begins coughing again, you can hear the blood splatter on the ground as he struggles to hold himself up. His clothes are torn in several places from trying to escape the grounders, revealing the wounds he’s suffered from them. Clarke gets close, not worried about her safety because she’s already sick, and gets on the ground with him.

“Murphy, hey, look at me.” She says, he slowly raises his head to meet her eyes. “I need you to tell me exactly how you escaped from the grounders. What happened?”

Blood drips from his mouth, “I don’t know. I woke up, and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there, so I took off.”

Clarke’s silent for a second, turning this information over in her mind. “They let you go.”

“What?” You ask, “Why—?”

The curtain moves, light shining inside of the dropship. You turn to see Bellamy coming inside, gun prepared in his hand. He looks over your face first, checking to make sure you’re okay, before landing on the two on the floor.

“Bellamy, stay back.” Clarke says.

You grab his arm, making sure he doesn’t get any closer. He presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, missing your lips, “Did he do something to you?” Clarke shakes her head, Bellamy takes a few more steps forward to see more clearly, you hold onto him. “What the hell is this?”

“Biological warfare.” Clarke says, “You were waiting for the grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it.” She turns her attention back to Murphy, “Murphy’s the weapon.”

When Murphy looks up from the ground, you can see the full damage done to his face. He’s covered in cuts and gnarly wounds in general, blood smeared over every inch of his face from the eyes down. Along with that, his eyes are swollen, the cuts are swollen, and his lips are too. 

You press your lips together, thinking over what this could mean. How long before everyone else in camp gets sick? If Clarke thinks it spreads through touch, then it’s only a matter of time before your worst nightmare comes true. Murphy touched three, and who did those three get to? Will it affect everyone or only a select number?

The curtains are drawn to the side again, the three of you watch as the two from outside are brought in by other people. It’s Derek and Connor, they must’ve been the ones to help Murphy inside. They’re just more people that could possibly end up as bad as Murphy, or as mellow as Clarke is right now. 

The two newcomers are laid on the ground, where they immediately begin to succumb to the coughing fits.

You share a look with Bellamy, wondering if you should be covering your mouth with your shirt or something. If this turns out to be the base for the sick, then the place will be a petri dish in no time. You’re asking for it.

“Is this your revenge, helping the grounders kill us?” Bellamy asks, Clarke has begun to dab at some of Murphy’s wounds with a wet rag, starting with his forehead and working her way down.

“I didn’t know about this, okay? I swear.” Murphy mutters.

“Stop lying!” Bellamy shouts, “When are they coming?”

“Murphy, think, all right?” Clarke starts, “What can you tell us that’s useful? Did you hear anything?”

Murphy shakes his head slightly, “They’re vicious, cruel.”

“You want to see vicious?” Bellamy starts forward. You grab at his jacket, trying to get him from getting any closer than you already are. He rips the fabric from your grasp, continuing.

“Hey, don’t.” Clarke says, “Whatever this thing is, it spreads through contact.”

“That doesn’t mean anything anymore, most of you could be infected right now, then.” You say.

Clarke tilts her head, eyebrows raised, trying to tell you that you’re right without saying it out loud. It’s not a comforting thought, knowing that you’re right.

The curtain opens suddenly, and closes just as quick, Finn jogs into the room, “Clarke?”

“Finn, you shouldn’t be in here.” Clarke says, “No one should.”

“We’re fucked.” You sigh, running your fingers through your hair.

“I heard you were sick.” He breathes, looking around the room. It begins to dawn on him, “Clarke, what is this?”

“I don’t know, some kind of hemorrhagic fever.” She shakes her head, “We just need to contain it before—”

She’s interrupted by Derek when he begins to vomit all over the floor, body shaking so violently that he falls flat on the ground. You take a step back to give him more room, Clarke launches to her feet.

Finn reaches for her, she moves his hands away, “Hey, don’t touch me. You could get sick.” They share a look before she moves on, going to help Derek, “Wash your hands, now.”

Finn goes, like he’s ordered to.

“What the hell is happening to him?”

“I don’t know.” Clarke mutters.

A dark red and liquidy vomit hits the floor, consisting mostly of blood. This is when you lift your shirt over your nose to cover the smell, and watch as the boy collapses entirely in his own puddle of puke, the coughing ceases. Clarke gets down next to him, turning his head and finding no resistance. She reaches for his neck.

“Is he…?” Bellamy trails off.

Clarke’s expression falls, turning to look at you two, “He’s dead.”

There’s a few seconds of silence that goes through the room, where no one moves and stares at either Clarke or the body. It kills. The disease that Murphy brought into camp kills.

Once again, she’s the first person to move, grabbing a bottle off the shelf, going up to Finn. “Here, alcohol, hold out your hand.” She dumps enough to douse his hands.

“What do we do?” He asks.

“Quarantine.” She says, “Round up everyone who had contact with Murphy. Bring them here.”

Finn nods, not bothering to wait, leaving the dropship.

Bellamy’s eyebrows raise, “And everyone they had contact with?”

“Well, we have to start somewhere.” Clarke reasons, before turning around, “Connor, who was with you when you found him? Who carried him in? Think.”

Connor’s got a ring of red around his mouth because of the blood that leaked from his nose. The tips of his fingers are covered in blood, “The first one there was Octavia.”

Bellamy’s lips part, eyes widening. He doesn’t even look at you before starting out of the dropship, leaving you here with Clarke, Connor and Murphy.

You shake your head slightly, backing up to the opening, “Do you think some of us could be immune?”

“It’s hard to tell.” Clarke’s eyes find the ground, eyebrows drawing in. “It’s possible, but there’s always delayed reactions.”

You take a spot by the door, planting your feet, leaning against the wall. You hold your shirt over your nose. It can’t be of much use to do this anymore, considering you’ve breathed their air. You could be sick in a matter of hours or as late as tomorrow.

Finn gets to work outside. In the span of fifteen minutes, the ship has already begun to fill up with sick people, being carried in by those who volunteer to help. It isn’t too long after when Bellamy comes in with Octavia, who doesn’t look like she’s sick at all.

Regardless, Clarke does a number of tests on her, trying to see if she has any of the range of symptoms that keep coming out. She has Octavia pull the skin beneath her eyes down and tilt her head back to check her ose. It ends with Clarke shining a flashlight into the back of her throat, checking for sores that might produce blood.

“Okay, we’re done.” Clarke clicks it off, “No visible signs of swelling or bleeding.”

Bellamy’s rubbing his chin, “So you’re saying she doesn’t have it?”

“Don’t touch your face, Bell.” You pull at his wrist, ignoring the look he gives you for it.

“I’m saying she doesn’t have symptoms, but that could change.” Clarke says, “We need to keep her here just in case.”

“No way.” He motions to the people on the floor, “Look at this place. SHe’ll get sick just being here.”

“Do you want to stop the spread, or not?” She asks, “Look, I’ll keep her on the third level with the people who aren’t symptomatic yet. Think of it as a way to stop her from sneaking out again.”

Octavia’s face twits, “Screw you, Clarke.”

“I’ll let you know if her condition changes.” She says. 

“I’ll stay here too, to keep an eye on her.” You touch Bellamy’s arm, his expression changes entirely.

“No, I’m not letting you stay here, too. You haven’t even had contact with anyone that’s sick. You’re asking for it.” He tells you. 

“Someone needs to be in here to help them.” You raise your eyebrows. He clenches his teeth, the outline of his jaw becomes more defined, “I’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t say anything, turning around and walking straight through the curtains to the outside. You let out a sigh, moving the hair out of your face before looking back at Octavia and Clarke. 

Octavia’s done with the conversation, though, heading for the latter directly behind Clarke.

“Octavia, wait.” Clarke turns, “I need you to sneak out again.”

It doesn’t take much to convince Octavia to go and see Lincoln. She leaves immediately, and Clarke asks if you’re going to help cover her absence if Bellamy comes in questioning her. You nod, remarking that you already signed up for that when you said that you’d keep an eye on her for him.

In the meantime, you make yourself a bandana that you tie above your nose to be more careful. If they cough in your face, there’s no way for you to breathe it in, much less get the blood all over. You jump in, trying to help the best you can, moving around the room with Clarke to check on people to see if they’re okay.

The good news is, besides Derek, there’s only one other person that you find dead. She’s laying flat on her face, similar to the way Derek did when he died. You have one of the guys help you carry her out, lining her right up next to him.

“All right, show’s over. Get back to your posts.” Bellamy says, coming toward the ship, “You got enough food in there, water?”

“Yeah.” You smile.

“Some medicine might be nice.” Clarke says.

Bellamy laughs, “I’ll see what I can do.” You and Clarke turn to walk in. “Octavia, you okay?”

Your eyes slide over to Clarke, and you walk another two steps before turning like she does. She’s quiet for too long, it’s a dead giveaway that there’s something going on between you three.

“She’s sleeping.” You lie straight through your teeth, giving him a pretty smile, “We’ve got her isolated from everyone else. I’ve been watching her, as promised.”

He squints at you, watching your face, “What’s going on?”

He’s too smart for you to lie like this. You’ve got to try harder, “We—”

Clarke completely cuts you off, not bothering to keep it up, “She’s not here. I sent her to see Lincoln. Look, if there’s a cure, he has it. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let her go.”

You let out a sigh from your nose. You should’ve known that she wouldn’t actually lie to him. Bellamy glares right at you, you tilt your head at him, pressing your lips together. 

“If anything happens to her, you and me are gonna have problems.” He says, beginning to turn, “You too, (Y/n).”

“Bells.” You take a few steps down the slope.

“Bellamy!” Clarke calls.

The two of you watch him walk away. You let out a scoff, pulling the bandana down from your face, eyeing Clarke, “I thought you wanted a cover, moron.”

“There’s no point.” She mutters, voice nasally, unaffected by what you called her.

“Out of my way.” Bellamy barks. 

You and everyone else out here watch as the guy he’s talking to turns around, bloody tears streaming from his eyes. 

“Dude, your eyes!” Someone says, another pulls out his gun, aiming at him.

“Nobody touch him!”

You reach to pull the bandana up.

“Get to the drop ship, now.” Bellamy points, you watch as three other people aim their guns at the guy. He starts walking toward you two.

“Hey, are you okay?” Raven asks, you look in time to watch a girl collapse, hands covered in red. Two people move to grab her to avoid hitting the ground, and in return, she coughs a spray of blood in their faces.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s on me!”

The second guy wipes the blood from his face onto his hands, smearing it, wandering it in the direction of a few people. They all pull out their guns, aiming at him, “Get away! Get back! Get back!”

You stand in horror,w watching as the panic grows, people covering their mouths, backing away from others. More guns are being pulled, people raising their hands in defense.

“Calm down.” Bellamy orders.

“Put that gun down!” Finn shouts.

Clarke doesn’t watch for long before turning around and heading into the ship. She comes out a second later, a gun in her hand. She points the barrel up, firing three shots. All eyes hit her, silence sweeping the camp. She heads down a few steps, “This is exactly what the grounders want. Don’t you see that? They don’t have to kill us if we kill each other first.”

“They won’t have to kill us if we all catch the virus!” One of the guys shout at her, pointing the gun in her direction, “Get back in the damn dropship!”

Bellamy takes three long strides, grabbing the gun to disarm him. In the process, he slams the butt of the gun into the guys’ throat, he falls to his knees.

“Not to state the obvious, but your quarantine isn’t working.” Bellamy tells her.

When you look over at Clarke, you watch as her eyes roll into the back of her head, the gun beginning to fall from her hand. You jerk forward to catch her before she hits the dirt, managing to grab her arms before Finn swoops in, holding her across his arms.

“Hey, let me go. I’m okay.” Clarke breathes.

“No, you’re not.” He says.

“Octavia will come back with a cure.” She says.

“There is no cure.” Octavia jogs over, “But the grounders don’t use the sickness to kill.”

“Really? Tell that to them.” Bellamy motions to the two bodies on the ground, “I warned you about seeing that grounder again.”

“Yeah, well, I have a warning for you, too.” She says, “The grounders are coming. And they’re attacking at first light.”

She walks right past Bellamy, looking at Finn, “Come on. I’ll help you get Clarke into the dropship.”

You look at Bellamy, pulling the mask down again. He eyes for face for a long couple of seconds, “I can’t believe you let her go, knowing how I feel about them.”

You nod, making a face, “We have to take chances sometimes, you know that better than anyone else.” You cross your arms, “And for the record, if Clarke hadn’t sent her, we wouldn’t know that we’re all going to die tomorrow morning.”

Bellamy’s lips turn up slightly, “You know I’d never let them touch you.”

“I know.” You agree, beginning to back up, “I’ll keep an actual eye on her this time.”

He nods, “Be careful, please.”

“I always am.” You say, pulling the mask over your nose, heading into the dropship.

Inside, you find that Murphy’s given up his hammock so that Clarke can rest in it instead. You start to walk over, Clarke’s half-open eyes land on you. She’s pale, and you can see a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Bellamy can never stay mad at me.” You stop by her feet, “I’ll kep an eye on everyone.”

“I’ll help you.” Octavia offers. 

“Me too.” Murphy gets up from where he’s sitting. He looks at you, “I’m feeling better.”

“That’s good.” You grab the nearest cup off of a table, rinsing it in the clean bucket of water before scooping drinkable water out of a different bucket. 

The three of you work as a team to get around the room, slowly hydrating the people that can’t move because of how much pain they’re in. There’s a few instances where they’ll cough in your face, blood splattering around your eyes, but never in your mouth. You try to feed them what little food you have to offer, and then move onto cleaning faces the best you can, even though you know that they won’t stay that way for long.

By the time the sun sets, you’re the only one still consistently moving around, making beds and fluffing pillows for people to use so that they can actually rest. Clarke watches you half of the time, making sure that you’re doing everything correctly when an emergency arises. She stops trying to tell you what you should be doing when she realizes that you’re getting the job done either way.

“I’m going to take a breather.” You say, washing your face with the clean water, and then dumping a small handful of the alcohol over your hands. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Take your time.” Clarke breathes, “You’ve been doing a lot.”

“You want anything from your tent?” You ask.

“No, I’m okay.” She smiles.

You leave through the curtains, immediately pulling the bandana down so you can get a few lungfuls of fresh air. It’s hot in there from the amount of unmoving bodies. You feel sticky from the sweat and blood that clings to you desperately. You’d give anything to take a shower.

You jog down the slope and toward your tent, hoping that you’ll meet someone along the way that has good news. They’ve got a lot of people that are putting their heads together to ensure that you’ll all be safe tomorrow morning, but they haven’t shared those plans just yet.

The moon is shining exceptionally bright tonight, you don’t even need the fires that light up the path. 

Halfway through your journey, you find Jasper, talking down at the corner of some tent. You’re about to make a joke, when you see that he’s talking to someone, not himself. And when you get closer, you see that it’s Bellamy.

“Bells!” You gasp, jogging closer.

“Stay back.” He holds his hand out. You can see that there’s blood running from his nose. You reach to untie the bandana from the back of your neck, turning it into a rag. You crouch down next to him, moving his hand away to wipe the blood. He turns his head away, eyes on Jasper, “Make the shot. Find Finn, go.” 

Jasper leaves, you move the hair out of Bellamy’s face, feeling how hot his forehead is, “Can you stand?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He murmurs.

“I came out to see if you guys came up with a plan.” You say, “And because I needed a breather. It’s not easy being in there.”

“Is Octavia okay?”

“She’s fine.” You tell him, “Let’s get you up so you can see for yourself.”

Bellamy doesn’t want to touch you with his bloodied hands, so you wipe them as clean as you can. The two of you work together to get him on his feet, you pull an arm over your shoulder, trying to get him to lean on you.

“I can walk.”

“Must be why you fell over then, right?” You muse, he sucks in a breath. 

You work to get him to the ship, he’s dragging his feet, one arm wrapped around his abdomen. Everytime he teeters to one side, you have to try hard to correct it without sending you both falling over.

“Octavia!” You shout, helping him up the slope.

The curtains whip open less than a second later, taking in the sight of you two, before turning to look back inside, “Clear some space!”

Murphy jumps up to fix one of the beds, Octavia takes Bellamy’s other side, because he’s beginning to sink to the floor with each step. As soon as you get him to the end of the bed, you slowly lower him onto it, trying to be gentle.

Bellamy lays on his back, coughing up a mouthful of blood. You jerk to roll him over, watching as it all leaves his mouth, splattering onto the floor. He gags, Octavia pats his back.

“Hey, big brother.” She breathes, leaning over him.

You wipe his face with a dry rag, trying to keep the blood from running down the side of his jaw and onto his neck.

“I’m scared.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Octavia tells him. 

“That’s what I said to you the day you were born.” He’s sucking in air, having difficulty breathing. 

“I know.” She says. “You told me that, like, a thousand times.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He grabs her hand, squeezing it.

“Just get some rest now, okay?”

Bellamy nods, tears pooling in his eyes. He closes them, head turning to the side. You make eye contact with Octavia, and a silent agreement passes between you two. You nod, telling her that you’ll stay right here.

Octavia gets up to go, you sit flat on your butt, crossing your legs. You slowly run a hand through Bellamy’s hair, wiping away the tears that escape. You try humming to him, knowing that trick works every now and then. He crosses his arms over his chest tightly, so you move to unzip your jacket, laying it across his chest.

He takes your hand in his.

It isn’t too long after when he falls asleep, body relaxing. You sit over him and watch to make sure that he’s still breathing and not choking on his own bloody vomit. Murphy and Octavia take turns to help out everyone, but it seems like people keep turning them away because of how tired they are.

However, there’s a few that are coming back to life, the illness finally passing. Even Clarke begins to get restless.

It’s a few hours later when Bellamy begins to stir. You lift your head from where you have it on the bed, placing your hand on his knee. His face twists before his eyes open suddenly, searching the room for a split second, but he stops as soon as he sees you, sitting up. 

“I’ve got water.” Murphy says, coming over with a cup.

You take it from him, Bellamy glares at him, “Thanks, I’ve got it.”

“Yeah.” He watches Bellamy for a second before walking away.

You pass the cup over, rubbing Bellamy’s knee for a second. He turns his attention to you, “Have you slept?”

“Partially.” You admit, “I don’t need you worrying about me. I work the overnight shifts, this is nothing compared to how late I’ve stayed up patrolling before.”

He doesn’t argue, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, no symptoms. You look better.”

He takes a drink of the water, and then sets the cup on the floor. Clarke comes over, sitting on the bed next to Bellamy.

“Either of you seen Octavia?”

“She was up all night helping people.” You tell him, “Murphy gave her a break.”

Clarke gives him a look.

Bellamy squints at her, face twisting, “Don’t tell me you trust him now.”

“Trust? No.” Clarke looks away, “I do believe in second chances, though.”

Bellamy shakes his head, changing the topic, “It’s almost dawn. Better get everyone inside. If we lock the doors, maybe the grounders will think we’re not home.”

“Not everyone’s sick.” She says.

“Sick is better than dead.” Bellamy says.

“He’s right.” You agree.

“You don’t think Finn and Jasper are gonna pull it off.” She says, it’s not a question.

“Do you?” He asks.

She pauses for a second, “I’ll get everyone inside.”

Clarke gets to her feet, shuffling out of the dropship. You stretch, letting out a yawn.

“You should sleep, (Y/n).” He says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Should is the key word.” You say, “I’m not sleeping until everything’s settled.”

You get to your feet, tilting his head back so you can kiss his forehead, knowing better than to test your luck by aiming for his lips. He must think this is risky, because he pushes your hand away.

“Bells,” You murmur, “Stop.”

“Don’t.”

“I’ve had sick people coughing in my face all day, you think I can’t handle your germs?” You laugh, pushing his hand out of the way. You hold onto either side of his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “See?”

“Yeah.” He says, watching you sit next to him. He pulls you into his side, “Thanks for watching me all night.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

[bellamysgriffin]

I'll never leave never mind...

[strawberryforks]

in 2025, i plan to write 25 fanfics! (maybe more) please send in requests for the following characters—those highlighted in red are my absolute favourites:

jj maybank and john b routledge and rafe cameron, damon salvatore and klaus mikaelson, peter parker and frank castle, the bat boys (jason todd, dick grayson, damian wayne), finnick odair and haymitch abernathy, ghost and soap and gaz, soldier boy and billy butcher, derek morgan and aaron hotchner and spencer reid, tim bradford and john nolan, jake “hangman” seresin and bradley “rooster” bradshaw

misc. jack frost, bellamy blake, brandon beckett, dash, killian jones, lip gallagher, adrian agreste/chat noir, bakugo, dabi, tyler owens

[fanfics4all]

In My Bones

Request: Yes / No For a 100 request: being Octavia’s younger brother and her saving you from mount weather? Anon

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Octavia Blake x Male!Blake!Reader 

Word count: 1494

Warnings: Being drilled for bone marrow, should be it really

Y/N: Your Name 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Pain. 

That was the first thing I registered. A deep, aching pain that seeped into my bones. I tried to move, but the restraints on my wrists and ankles held me down. My head lolled to the side, the harsh fluorescent lights overhead burning into my vision. The air smelled sterile, tainted with the metallic sting of blood. 

Mount Weather. The place where they were killing us. 

I barely had time to process the agony rippling through my body before I heard the shouting. Gunfire. Then, the blaring of alarms. Something crashed outside the room, followed by rapid footsteps. I forced my head up just in time to see the door burst open, and for a split second, I thought I was hallucinating. 

“Y/N!” 

Octavia. She was here. 

My older sister’s voice rang out, raw with panic and rage, as she pushed into the room. Bellamy was right behind her, his gun raised, his expression dark and deadly. 

“Get those straps off him!” Bellamy ordered. 

Octavia was already at my side, her hands shaking as she worked to undo the restraints. The moment my arms were free, they dropped like dead weight on my sides. I wanted to move, to get up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Oh God…” Octavia whispered, her eyes scanning over me. I could see the horror on her face- the way her breath hitched when she saw the bandages on my torso, the IV in my arm, the dried blood on my skin.

“They… They took his marrow.” 

Bellamy cursed under his breath. His hands hovered over me like he didn’t know what to do. 

“Can he walk?” 

“I don’t know.” She admitted, her voice breaking. She turned back to me, brushing my hair back from my sweaty forehead. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” 

I nodded sluggishly, but the movement sent a fresh wave of nausea through me. 

“They-” My voice cracked. My throat was raw, dry. I swallowed hard, forcing out the words. 

“They already did it.” 

Bellamy clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. 

“Bastards.” 

“We need to get him out of here.” Octavia said, her urgency growing. She looped one of my arms around her shoulders. 

“Come on, Y/N. We’re going home.” 

Home. 

The word didn’t feel real. 

Bellamy moved to my other side, supporting most of my weight as they pulled me up. My legs nearly buckled beneath me, but their grip held strong. Every step felt like fire in my veins, like my body was giving up on me. 

“Almost there.” Octavia encouraged, her voice softer now, reassuring. But I could hear the anger, the grief buried beneath her words. 

Bellamy took the lead, checking the hallway before signaling for us to move. The alarms were still blaring, red lights flashing down the corridor. Octavia kept a tight hold on me, practically dragging me forward. I could hear distant shouts echoing through the halls. I wasn’t sure if we were winning or losing, but at that moment, I only cared about one thing- I was with them. 

We turned the corner, but before we could take another step, a guard appeared at the end of the hall, raising his weapon. Octavia let go of me just long enough to grab a knife from her belt. In one swift movement, she hurled it forward, the blade embedding itself in the man’s throat. He collapsed instantly. Bellamy barely reacted, already tugging me forward again. 

“We’re almost at the exit.” 

I could feel my strength fading, my vision blurring. My head slumped against Octavia’s shoulder, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. 

“Stay with me, Y/N.” She pleased. 

“We’re almost out.” 

I wanted to tell her I’d be okay. That I could make it… but I wasn’t sure if it was true. The last thing I heard was her voice, strong and unwavering. 

“I’ve got you.” She whispered. 

Then, everything went dark. 

*Octavia’s POV*

Bellamy and I barely kept him upright as we pushed through the chaos of Mount Weather. We needed to get Y/N out alive, it was the only thing that mattered. He was barely conscious now, his weight sagging against me, his head lolling forward. His skin was too pale, his breathing too shallow. I had seen wounded warriors before, seen blood spilled. But this? This was my baby brother. Bellamy gritted his teeth as we pushed through the last set of doors. 

“We’re almost there. Just hold on, Y/N.” 

The cool air hit us as we stumbled outside. The open space made it a little easier to breathe, to think. We just had to make it a little further. 

Then I saw him. 

“Lincoln!” I gasped. 

He was standing near the tree line, his sword in hand, scanning the battlefield. The second he saw us, his expression darkened, and he ran toward us. 

“What happened?” He asked, his eyes darting to Y/N, then to the bloodstains on his bandages. 

“They took his marrow.” I choked out. Saying it made it feel even more real. Even worse. 

“Lincoln, please, you have to help him!” Lincoln didn’t hesitate. He pulled Y/N’s arm over his own shoulders, taking some of the weight off of Bellamay. I could see the flicker of pain on my brother’s face as Lincoln moved him, Y/N barely made a sound. That’s what scared me the most. 

Bellamay ran a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. 

“We need to get him back to camp. Now. Abby’s the only one who can help him.” 

Lincoln nodded. “I’ll carry him.” 

Bellamy hesitated for half a second, then let go, and Lincoln effortlessly scooped Y/N up in his arms. My brother barely reacted- he just groaned softly, his head slumping against Lincoln’s shoulder. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat. He wasn’t okay, not even close. 

Bellamy turned to me, his eyes sharp. “Go ahead with Lincoln. I’ll cover you.” 

I nodded, running along side Lincoln as we took off toward the woods. My head pounded in my chest, but I didn’t care about anything except keeping my eyes on Y/N, making sure he was still breathing. 

“Just hold on, little brother.” I whispered, my voice cracking. 

We ran as fast as we could, Lincoln carrying Y/N while I sprinted beside him, barely able to keep up. Bellamy stayed behind us, making sure the rest of the kids were alright. The moment we broke through the treeline and saw the walls of Camp Jaha, relief flooded through me- but it was short-lived. Y/N had barely moved since we left Mount Weather. His skin was sickly pale, his breathing ragged. He needed help. Now. 

“Someone get Abby!” I screamed the second we were in range. 

A few guards jumped in surprise, but one took off running toward the medical bay. People turned to stare as we rushed through camp, but I didn’t care. Let them look. Let them see what the people in Mount Weather had done. Abby came out sprinting toward us, worry plastered all over her face. 

“What happened?” She asked, barely out of breath. 

“They took his bone marrow.” I gasped, my voice breaking. 

“He’s barely been conscious. Please, just help him!” 

Abby’s expression darkened, but she didn’t waste time asking more questions. 

“Get him inside. Now.” 

Lincoln didn’t hesitate, carrying Y/N inside the dropship with me right behind him. Abby immediately started clearing a table, motioning for Lincoln to lay Y/N down. As soon as he was on the table, Abby went to work. She checked his pulse, his breathing, his pupils. Her jaw clenched, and I could tell she was trying to stay calm- for my sake. 

“He’s lost a lot of blood.” She said. “And with the marrow extraction, his immune system is compromised. He’s weak, but he’s holding on.” 

I hoved over Y/N, brushing the hair out of his face. He looked so small lying there, so fragile. My little brother- the one I swore I’d always protect. 

“Can you save him?” My voice was barely above a whisper. 

Abby met my eyes and softened. “I’m going to do everything I can.” 

Before I could say anything, the doors burst open. We looked over and Bellamy was walking our way. He looked okay. He stepped forward, his arms crossed tightly. 

“What does he need?” 

“Fluids. Antibiotics. Time to recover.” Abby sighed. “But right now, he’s fighting, and that’s a good sign.” 

Fighting. That’s what Blakes do. 

I grabbed Y/N’s hand, gripping it tightly. “You hear that, little brother?” I murmured. 

“You’re gonna be okay. You just have to keep fighting.” 

Lincoln rested a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. Bellamy stayed close, his protective stance never faltering. None of us were going anywhere. Y/N wasn’t alone, and as long as I had breath in my body, I would never let anything happen to him again. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @emo-godess-loves-you @now-imagine @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @vanessa-kom-skaikru @jjmymaybank  @therealchoni

[nickeverdeen]

could i ask for an arcane and the 100 matchup if that’s okay?

i’m a 5’6 girl and i’m completing my last year in high school at the moment, i’m going to be taking a gap year before applying to college to become a veterinary technician. i love to write and take pictures as well as come up with new story ideas that i can turn into a passion project movie or stage script.

i have ADHD and i’m 100% sure i’m autistic too, i’ve always loved animals ever since i was little and i’ve often been called a walking textbook of animal facts. i can and will go on tangents about animals if i’m given the chance and if you get a fact wrong i will be correcting you about it. i often have a hard time understanding social cues which leads to people getting upset with me sometimes but i try my best. i guess you could say some say that i have my head in the clouds a lot. 

i also absolutely love theatre, i’m in two productions right now and i always get really happy when people take interest and ask me how rehearsals are going (even better if they want to hear about cast drama).

i have a lot of energy and have a more golden retriever personality, i get excited over really small things which leads to me stimming like crazy and talking at an insane speed which leads to people having to gently ask me to slow down in order to understand me. 

i am also a bit sensitive so i will be crying if you raise a voice at me. i tend to freeze up when someone crosses my boundaries. my home life isn’t the healthiest but i try not to talk about it much. i’m closeted bisexual and an atheist. i’m a very cuddly person so my love language is physical touch and words of affirmation along with gift giving. i find a cool rock? it’s yours now. 

i have 2 dogs and a leopard gecko. 

i’m looking for a romantic matchup if that’s okay too 🫶

Your Arcane match is…

Caitlyn Kiramman

Caitlyn would listen attentively to your animal tangents, asking thoughtful questions and occasionally surprising you with her growing knowledge

If you ever got overwhelmed or upset, Caitlyn would be the first to step in with a soft hug, quiet words of reassurance, and her calm presence to help you feel safe

She’d be your biggest fan at every production, bringing flowers and cheering the loudest

She’d also love hearing all about the cast drama over tea

Caitlyn would fully support your dreams of becoming a veterinary technician and help you brainstorm story ideas for your scripts

She’d understand your sensitivity to conflict and be careful with her tone, always ensuring you feel secure and respected

Caitlyn would love meeting your pets and learning how to care for them

She’d happily accompany you on trips to shelters or wildlife reserves

She’d treasure every little gift you gave her, like cool rocks or small trinkets, and she’d find meaningful ways to give back—like surprising you with tickets to an animal exhibit

Caitlyn would introduce you to her interests, like sharpshooting or detective work, finding fun ways to involve you while respecting your comfort zones

Knowing you’re cuddly, Caitlyn would always be ready with warm hugs or comforting touches, making you feel loved and appreciated

Caitlyn would help you navigate the challenges of your home life, offering a safe, stable space where you could be yourself without judgment

Your The 100 match is…

Bellamy Blake

Bellamy would always have your back, stepping in to defend you if someone crossed your boundaries or upset you

He’d listen to your animal facts with genuine interest, often joking that you’re his “personal encyclopedia.”

Bellamy would make it a point to attend all your performances, cheering you on and bragging about how talented you are

When you’re feeling overstimulated or overwhelmed, Bellamy would be your rock, offering grounding hugs or just sitting quietly by your side

He’d grow attached to your pets, especially your dogs, and would love helping you take care of them or playing with them

Bellamy would always try to one-up your thoughtful gifts, bringing you things like rare books, meaningful trinkets, or little surprises

He’d push you to pursue your veterinary technician path, reminding you how capable and intelligent you are whenever you doubt yourself

Bellamy would secretly love how cuddly you are, often pulling you into his lap or wrapping an arm around you without hesitation

If anyone ever upset you in the theater world or elsewhere, Bellamy would be the first to step in and handle it, not tolerating anyone disrespecting you

He’d help you navigate your family struggles, offering advice, a safe place to vent, or even a shoulder to cry on when you needed it most

[artemiisx]

“what’d you call me?”

- imaging reader getting annoyed from bellamy calling her “princess” every change he gets; knowing it annoys her. she flips the switch and starts calling him princess as well.

bellamy x fem!reader

cw: bloody injury, teasing, fluff

———————————————————————

you and bellamy were out in the forest scouting new territory when you came across a waterfall

“hey! look, a waterfall!”

you say as your shoes splash into the creek water; your legs jumping from rock to rock—running towards the waterfall.

“hey- be careful.“ bellamy says in a stern tone

you look behind your shoulder, looking at him laughing playfully.

“quit that. you’re gonna get hurt princess.”

your roll your eyes.

“hey watch ou-“ bellamy says urgently—as you trip over a rock and fall face first into the water.

——

you gasp—emerging from the water as bellamy grabs your shoulders; pulling you to shore.

you catch your breath before speaking.

“shit.”

you say as you touch your hand to your forehead—seeing that there’s blood.

“that hurt.” you wince.

“maybe listen to me next time princess.”

you roll your eyes. “i’ve told you to stop calling me that.”

you push him off you and stand up.

your leg hurts like hell—barely able to hold yourself up.

you catch bellamy’s eyes looking you up and down.

——

“your leg.” bellamy says, concerned.

“what about it” you respond, knowing you won’t admit your leg is in pain. stubbornly not wanting to admit he was right—that you should’ve been more careful.

bellamy speaks.

“you’re not putting any weight on it. meaning, your legs in pain.” “and i’m guessing; you’re not gonna admit that to me.”

you roll your eyes once again. “i can walk perfectly fine, thank you.”

bellamy crosses his arms.

“take a few steps then.”

——

you’re too cocky to admit you can’t, but won’t accept defeat. you take a few steps—trying your hardest to not limp.

it did not work.

in fact, you literally fell again.

——

bellamy chuckles. “that was ironic.”

“shut up blake.”

before you can speak further, bellamy bends down to pick you up—carrying you bridal style

“BELLAMY-“

“put me down!” you say as you flail your legs, trying to escape.

“quit flailing. i’m trying to help you princess.”

“i don’t need your help!” you shout.

“and for the love of god, STOP calling me that.”

“whatever you say..”

“princess”.

you continue flailing as bellamy laughs.

——

bellamy continues to carry you all the way back to camp; finally reaching your tent.

bellamy sets you down inside—grabbing bandages to wrap your leg.

he lifts up your pant leg gently, disinfecting the wound, and wrapping it.

you watch him bandage you. you’d normally complain but this time there was a softness to his touch.

he does the same thing to the cut on your forehead; disinfecting and bandaging.

——

bellamy finishes up and speaks;

“there you go princess.”

your slight smile drops. looking at him in annoyment.

before you could bicker back, someone outside the tent yells for bellamy; needing his assistance at the gate.

——

bellamy looks over his shoulder towards the sound—before looking back at you.

“rest.” he says sternly.

“if i see you walking on that leg before it’s healed, you’re banned from walks of scouting territory.”

you roll your eyes.

——

someone outside the tent shouts for bellamy— again.

bellamy turns around; looking annoyed.

“I’LL BE THERE IN A SECOND.”

bellamy sighs; turning back towards you.

you smirk.

“better get out there, princess.” you say.

bellamy looks at you in disbelief—

you snicker, watching him scoff in shock—smile on his face, walking out the tent.

[maddie0101]

the space between us

— based off of THIS request. I hope you like it nonny! ❤︎

summary: you’ve been spiraling for a while and bellamy’s done watching from the sidelines. but when a spacewalk goes wrong, buried truths come crashing to the surface, and neither of you can ignore it anymore.

warnings: kane!reader, set in between s4 & s5, takes place on the ring, feelings of emptiness, depression!, grief, jealousy, worried!bellamy, reader is self destructive, mentions of suicidal thoughts/tendancies, sad fic with happy ending, arguing, angry love confessions!, idiots in love, cussing, starts out pretty gloomy but emotions are all over the place for these two, I promise the end it worth it.

word count: 7.6k (someone plz stop me)

notes: please do not read if this will affect your mental health. reader and bell go from enemies -> best friends -> enemies ish -> lovers. I don’t want to give too much of it away before you guys read, but the reader is dealing with grief. if you ever need anyone to talk to please don’t hesitate to send me a message :)

Space is cold.

It burrows into your bones like ice, coils tight in your gut like a viper ready to strike, and anchors itself in your chest.

It’s not just sadness, it’s grief, thick and suffocating, pressing against your ribs, stealing the breath from your lungs. You wonder if this is what drowning feels like--Not in water, but in silence.

A vast, endless silence that stretches beyond the ring, beyond the stars, beyond anything you can escape. The weight of it crushes you, fills your veins like lead, until even the air around you feels too thin, too fragile, too empty to keep you afloat.

You don’t know how to live with this kind of emptiness. Every breath feels too heavy, like your lungs are filling with lead instead of air. Every step echoes too loudly in the hollow corridors, like the station itself is reminding you just how alone you really are.

You have friends here, sure. Bellamy, Raven, Monty, Harper, Murphy, Echo. But it doesn’t matter. Not really...because one of the people you loved most in this world is gone.

Clarke is gone.

And it hits you like a knife to the gut every single time.

There are moments, cruel small moments where you forget. Where your mind tricks you into believing she’s still here. That if you turn your head fast enough, you’ll see Clarke standing next to you, rolling her eyes at something you said, or giving you that soft, knowing look that meant she understood you better than anyone ever could.

Clarke Griffin had been a part of you for as long as you could remember.

You grew up together on the Ark, side by side through every scraped knee and whispered secret.

When you were kids, you used to sneak through the maintenance tunnels, daring each other to go further, to take more risks, to push the limits of the world you were trapped in. You swore that one day, you’d escape together, that somehow, you’d find a way to live beyond cold metal walls and recycled air.

But you never imagined that escape would come in the form of a drop ship crashing down to Earth, that survival would mean war and blood and impossible choices. But even then, through all the chaos, you had Clarke. She was your constant, your best friend, your family when the world refused to be kind.

And now she was gone.

You still catch yourself turning to look for her, expecting to find her standing beside you, arms crossed, expression unreadable as she weighed every decision like the world depended on it, because, most of the time, it did.

But there’s nothing there anymore, just empty space.

You remember the way she trusted you, even when no one else did. The way she argued with you, pushed you to be better, made you believe in things you never thought possible.

And now she’s just gone.

The grief is unbearable. It’s a sharp, endless ache that settles deep in your chest, suffocating and inescapable. It keeps you awake at night, staring at the ceiling of the Ark, wondering if she suffered, if she was afraid, if she thought of you in those final moments.

You hate that you left her behind. You hate that you listened when she told you to go, to save yourself. You hate that you couldn’t find a way to save her.

Because now, for the first time in your life, you have to face this world alone.

And you don’t know how.

You had Clarke, you had your dad, and you had Bellamy, but now you have nobody.

Your father had always been a pillar of strength in your life. Marcus Kane, the man who had raised you with steady hands and a quiet kind of love. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was there. Even when he was forced to be more of a leader than a father, even when his duty to the Ark overshadowed his duty to you, you always knew he cared. You saw it in the way he softened when he spoke to you, in the way his voice lost its usual edge when he said your name.

And now you have no idea if he’s even still alive.

The thought destroys you. He’s down there, somewhere, trapped in a bunker deep beneath the earth, buried under rock and rubble.

You don’t know if he’s okay.

You don’t know if he has food, if he has air, if he’s even still breathing. The last time you saw him, he was fighting, surviving, but that was six months ago.

And six months is a long time.

You tell yourself he’s fine. He’s your dad, after all. He’s always been stubborn, always found a way to make it through. But doubt creeps in, curling around your ribs.

What if something went wrong? What if the bunker collapsed? What if you never see him again?

You can’t even send a message. Can’t hear his voice. Can’t tell him that you’re okay, that you made it, that you’re still up here breathing while he’s buried underground.

And it fucking kills you.

The doubt eats at you and the not knowing is unbearable.

And now, Bellamy is all you have left. At least, you thought you had him.

The two of you didn’t start off as friends. Far from it. Bellamy was reckless, arrogant, and dead set on ruling the camp with his bullshit “Whatever the hell we want” mantra. You saw it as chaos, and you had enough of that in your life already. Clarke had been the only one thinking straight, and you backed her up every single time, standing beside her, arguing against Bellamy, calling him out on his idiotic choices.

And God, did that piss him off.

The two of you would go toe to toe, screaming in each other’s faces until your throats were raw. He was infuriating. Stubborn. Impossible. And yet, somewhere in the middle of all those heated fights, things shifted. One day, you just… stopped. Not because either of you won, but because the war between you was exhausting. You had bigger enemies than each other.

So, you called a truce. Agreed to be civil.

Somewhere along the way, civility turned into friendship. Then you became best friends.

Bellamy became the person you didn’t even realize you needed.

You’d stay up late, lying in the grass, staring at the stars, talking about everything and nothing. You’d argue, but this time, it wasn’t about power or control, it was about books, about history, about whether a hot meal was worth trading for extra rations. He had your back in every fight, through every nightmare, through every horror you endured on the ground and you had his.

It wasn’t even a question. Bellamy Blake was your person.

But the problem was, you were in love with him.

You don’t know when it started, not exactly. Maybe it was the way he shielded you with his own body when things went to hell. Maybe it was the way his voice softened when he said your name, like you were something worth protecting. Maybe it was how he challenged you, how he saw you, how he could piss you off one second and make you laugh the next.

Or maybe you were just doomed from the start.

Bellamy was beautiful, always had been. That much, you could admit, but it infuriated you at first, watching him flirt, watching different women disappear into his tent for the night.

You told yourself you didn’t care, that it didn’t matter, but you hated it. Hated the way jealousy coiled hot and ugly inside you. Hated how you’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what it would be like to have him that way. To be the one he wanted.

But he never saw you like that. Not really.

Sure, he flirted sometimes, but Bellamy flirted with everyone. It was just who he was. And you weren’t about to fool yourself into thinking you were special.

And now, watching him grow closer to Echo, you know for sure you’ve lost him.

It’s different with her. It’s not just flirting. It’s not just meaningless glances or teasing smirks. It’s real. You see it in the way they talk, the way he looks at her, the way he lets her in and it breaks you. It shatters something deep in your chest, something you barely had a hold on to begin with.

Bellamy doesn’t talk to you the way he used to. Not anymore. Not like before, when the two of you would sit shoulder to shoulder, whispering in the dark, the silence of space stretching around you like your own little world. Not like before, when he’d seek you out first, when you’d catch him staring at you across the room, when he’d smirk at you like you were the only one who understood the joke.

Now, he’s with her.

Now, when you walk into a room, he’s already there—already talking to her and when he finally looks at you, it’s not the same.

He still cares, you know that. But there’s a distance now, something thick and unspoken between you and maybe it’s your fault. Maybe you pulled away first, maybe you built the wall between you before he even had the chance. But it doesn’t matter, because now it’s there, and it’s suffocating you.

You tell yourself it’s fine. That you don’t care. That you knew this would happen, that you always knew he’d move on, that he’d find someone else, that he’d never, never look at you the way you’ve spent years looking at him.

But it hurts. It hurts like nothing else ever has.

And maybe that’s the worst part—because you thought losing Clarke was the thing that would break you. You thought losing your father would be the thing to finally push you over the edge. But this...watching the one person you still have left slip through your fingers without even noticing—this is the thing that kills you.

First Clarke. Then your father. And now, him.

You have nothing left. Nothing but the void of space, the weight of grief, and a slow, suffocating sense that maybe, just maybe, you don’t even care if you make it through this anymore.

So you stop caring.

It’s not dramatic, not some grand, self-destructive decision. It’s quieter than that. A slow unraveling, thread by thread, until one day you wake up and realize you don’t give a shit what happens to you.

It starts small. Skipping meals because food supplies are limited and someone else needs it more. Telling yourself it’s noble, that it’s selfless, that it doesn’t matter if you eat or not. But the truth is, you just don’t care. You don’t feel hunger the way you used to, it’s dulled, just like everything else. The ache in your stomach is just another sensation you’ve learned to ignore, another part of you that feels hollow.

Staying up through the night, taking extra shifts because sleep is pointless. When you close your eyes, all you see is Clarke’s face, hear her voice like an echo trapped inside your skull. It’s easier to stay awake, to keep moving, to let exhaustion press down on you like a weight. The burn in your muscles, the heaviness in your limbs—it’s almost comforting.

Proof that you’re still here, still breathing. Still fighting, even if you don’t know why.

Volunteering for maintenance in the oxygen garden, even when the air is thick and stifling, clogging your lungs and making your head spin. You push through it, let the dizziness wash over you without stopping. The others take breaks, stepping outside to gulp in fresher air, but you stay. You work until your hands are raw, until sweat drips down your back and your vision blurs at the edges.

Until someone forces you to stop. “You’re running yourself into the ground,” he Bellamy mutters when you pass him in the hallway, his eyes flicking over your tired frame.

You shrug. “Nothing else to do.”

His frown deepens, but you don’t give him the chance to say more, you just keep walking.

The next time, it’s when you skip another meal, pushing your tray away without touching it. Bellamy’s sitting across from you, arms crossed over his chest, watching. “You gonna eat, or just sit there and pretend you don’t need food like the rest of us?”

“Not hungry,” you say, just like before. Just like always.

“That’s bullshit.”

You glance up, meet his stare, feel the weight of it pressing down on you. You know he’s waiting for you to crack, to get mad, to argue back--but you don’t. You just stand up and walk away, leaving the untouched food behind.

But It keeps happening.

“Get some sleep, you look like hell.”

“You’re working yourself to death.”

“Do you even hear yourself anymore?”

Each time, you brush him off. A shrug, a muttered response, a look that dares him to push harder. But he doesn’t—not yet. Not fully. He just watches. Studies you. And you can feel it, the weight of his concern, the way it coils between you like a rope pulled too tight, ready to snap. It lingers in every glance, every clipped conversation, every moment you pretend not to notice the way his eyes follow you across the room.

But you don’t stop.

You take the worst shifts, the ones no one wants, the ones that leave your hands shaking and your body aching. You push yourself harder, longer, testing your limits just to see if you still have any. The exhaustion, the hunger, the strain—it doesn’t matter.

None of it does.

The exhaustion barely registers anymore. You wear it like a second skin, let it settle into your bones, into the spaces grief hollowed out. Sleep is a distant memory, hunger nothing more than an afterthought. Your hands shake sometimes, but it doesn’t matter.

None of it fucking matters.

“We’ve got a problem.” Raven's words pull you back into the present, though barely. You stand near the console, arms crossed, waiting. It’s always something. Something breaking, something failing, something threatening to kill you all.

“What kind of problem?” Bellamy asks, stepping in beside Raven.

“External panel’s shot,” she says, frustration clear in her voice. “Coupling’s failing. If we don’t fix it, we’re looking at a full systems failure.”

It clicks instantly, an EVA. Someone has to go outside. “I’ll do it,” you say, stepping forward before anyone else can speak.

Bellamy reacts immediately, like he was waiting for you to pull this exact kind of shit. “No,” he snaps, eyes flashing. “Not happening.”

You don’t even look at him. “Raven can’t do it,” you say, voice cold, detached. “Her leg—”

“I can still—” Raven starts, but you cut her off.

“You can’t,” you say sharply, turning to her. “You know you can’t.”

Raven hesitates. She hates it, hates admitting that she has limits now, but she doesn’t argue. She knows you’re right.

“I was training to be a zero-g mechanic before I got arrested,” you continue, gaze flicking back to Bellamy. “That means I’m next in line.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he says, stepping closer, voice low and furious. “We’ll find another way.”

“There is no other way.”

“You’re not going out there.”

You stare at him, jaw tightening. “Yes, I am.”

His hands flex at his sides, like he’s physically restraining himself from grabbing you, shaking some sense into you. His voice drops even lower, barely more than a growl. “You’re not doing this.”

But then Raven sighs, running a hand through her hair. “She’s right.”

Bellamy’s head snaps toward her. “Raven—”

“As much as I hate it,” Raven says, glaring at you like she wants to punch you for putting her in this position, “she’s the best option we’ve got.”

That should be the end of it, decision made. But Bellamy is still looking at you like you just threw yourself out the airlock. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, quieter now, but no less intense.

You hold his gaze. “Yeah. I do.” You mutter before you turn on your heel and walk away. No more arguing. No more justifying. You don’t look back, don’t slow down, don’t give Bellamy or Raven a chance to say anything else.

Bellamy stands there, frozen, watching you disappear down the corridor. His chest feels too tight, like all the oxygen’s been sucked from the ring.

“She’s not okay,” Raven mutters, breaking the silence.

Bellamy’s jaw clenches. “Yeah, no shit.” His voice is sharp, but it’s not aimed at her. He’s pissed at himself, pissed at you, pissed at the situation they’re stuck in.

“She’s been different,” Raven continues, arms crossed as she shakes her head. “Ever since we lost Clarke, ever since—” She stops herself, but they both know what she means. Ever since you started pulling away, throwing yourself into danger like it’s the only thing keeping you standing.

Bellamy exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ve tried, Raven. I’ve tried talking to her, tried getting through to her, but she just—” He swallows hard, glancing down the hall like he could still catch a glimpse of you. “She shuts me out. Every damn time.”

Raven sighs. “You think I don’t know that? She’s been shutting everyone out. But Bellamy—she doesn’t care what happens to her.”

His stomach twists at the words. He knows it. He’s known it for a while, but hearing Raven say it out loud makes it feel too real.

“She’s not just being reckless,” Raven continues. “She’s self-destructing.”

Bellamy turns to her, eyes dark with frustration and something that looks dangerously close to fear. “And we’re just supposed to let her?”

Raven gives him a look. “You think I want this? You think I don’t hate it just as much as you do? But tell me—who else can do this job? I can’t.” She gestures to her leg, frustration flickering across her face. “And neither can anyone else up here. She’s the only one trained for it, Bellamy.”

He presses his lips into a thin line, his fists clenching at his sides. “That doesn’t mean we send her out there knowing she doesn’t give a shit if she comes back.”

Raven’s voice softens. “What other choice do we have?”

Bellamy doesn’t answer.

Because there isn’t one and that terrifies him.

The airlock chamber is cold and sterile. The hum of the machinery around you is the only sound, a dull buzz that fills the silence as you methodically strap yourself into the spacesuit. The motions are automatic, tightening the seals, adjusting the fit—your hands working without your mind fully registering what you’re doing. It doesn’t really matter. Nothing really does.

You barely hear the door open behind you, but you know it’s him before he even says a word.

Bellamy steps into the room, and for a second, he just watches you. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy with something you don’t want to name. Concern. Worry. Fear?

You keep your focus on the straps, but then his hands are suddenly there too, brushing against yours as he starts helping.

You don’t stop him. His fingers tighten the fastenings at your shoulders, a little rougher than necessary, like he’s trying to ground you. Like he’s trying to keep you here.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, voice low but firm.

You do but you don’t say that. Instead, you just let him help, let him double-check every strap, every seal, even though you’ve already done it yourself.

You don’t argue, don’t pull away, because you know this is the only way he can feel like he has some control. He moves in front of you, adjusting the collar of the suit, his jaw tight, eyes dark. “Be careful.”

That’s when you finally look at him—really look at him. And whatever he sees in your face, it fucking destroys him.

His breath catches, just for a second, but you notice. His grip on your suit tightens, like he wants to shake you, wants to snap you out of whatever this is.

But he doesn’t, because he knows it won’t work, because all he sees in your eyes is emptiness.

Not determination, not even fear, just… nothing. And It scares the shit out of him.

You don’t say anything at first. You probably should, you know you should, but there’s nothing to say. So you settle on the only thing that feels appropriate. “Thanks,” you murmur, voice hollow.

His throat bobs as he swallows, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he just whispers, “Be careful,” like it’s the only thing keeping him from losing his goddamn mind. You meet his gaze for another second, but then you turn away, reaching for your helmet.

Bellamy should say something. He should stop you, pull you back, make you feel something, anything—other than this emptiness that’s swallowed you whole. But the words won’t come. They lodge in his throat, tangled up with the panic that’s clawing its way through his chest.

Because he knows that look in your eyes.

He’s seen it before—too many times. On the ground, in the war-torn faces of people who had lost everything. In Clarke’s eyes before she pulled that lever in Mount Weather. In his own reflection after too many bodies had piled up under his command. That look, the quiet, hollow resignation, is what people wear when they’ve already decided they have nothing left to lose.

And now it’s on you.

He watches, helpless, as you slide the helmet over your head, locking it into place with smooth, practiced movements. You don’t hesitate. Don’t fumble. You just…do it. Like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t matter.

And the airlock doors hiss, the warning lights flashing as the chamber begins to seal. Bellamy takes a step forward but then stops, fists clenching at his sides. He can’t stop this. Raven already made the call. And you—fuck, you’re too stubborn to listen to him even if he tried.

Still, his heart is pounding. His pulse roaring in his ears. Because as the final barrier closes between you, cutting off the sound of your breath, the shift of your movements, it hits him like a gut punch.

You’re out of his reach now and Bellamy can’t fucking breathe. It slams into him all at once, the fear, the helplessness, the realization that he might actually lose you.

Not in the way he’s been losing you these past few weeks, watching you slip further and further away, your laughter fading, your fire dimming. That was bad enough. But this? This is something worse.

This is real. This is now.

His hands twitch at his sides, useless. He should be in there with you, should be the one stepping into the vacuum of space instead. But he isn’t. He’s here, standing behind a reinforced door, watching as you drift further and further from him—physically, emotionally, completely.

And the fear claws at his throat, tightening with every second that passes. It’s the same fear that’s been gnawing at the edges of his mind for weeks, ever since he started noticing the way you were slipping. The way you stopped laughing. The way you stopped arguing with him—not because you agreed, but because you didn’t care. The way your eyes, once so full of fire and fight, had dulled into something hollow and distant.

He should’ve done more. Should’ve pushed harder. Should’ve made you talk to him instead of letting you shut him out. Because now? Now he’s fucking terrified.

Not just that something could go wrong out there, though that thought alone makes his stomach churn—but that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t fight it if it did.

Maybe you wouldn’t even try to come back.

The thought sends ice through his veins, and his breath comes sharp and uneven as he watches you through the glass, watches you moving with the same quiet detachment you’ve had for weeks, like nothing fucking matters.

Like you don’t matter. “Goddamn it,” he mutters under his breath, barely aware that he’s spoken.

Raven shifts beside him, arms crossed, eyes locked on the glass. “She’s gonna be fine, Bellamy,” she says, but her voice lacks its usual sharp confidence.

"I hope so." Bellamy mutters, praying for you to make it back safely.

The vast emptiness of space stretches around you, endless and dark, broken only by the cold metal of the ring and the distant glow of Earth below. You move slowly, using the safety tether to guide yourself along the outer structure of the Ring. The damaged panel is a few meters ahead, wires sparking faintly in the low gravity.

“Alright,” Raven’s voice crackles through the comms. “You need to secure yourself to the framework before you start. That panel’s loose, and the last thing we need is you floating off into the abyss.”

Bellamy tenses at the thought, but you just give a clipped, “Got it.”

Your movements are precise, practiced. You lock your tether to the nearest anchor point, then reach for your tools. The exposed wires are a tangled mess, some of them burned out, others frayed from whatever hit the station.

“Looks like a power relay took most of the damage,” you report. “I’ll need to reroute the flow before replacing the panel.”

“Copy that,” Raven says. “Take your time.”

Bellamy huffs out a breath. “Not too much time.”

You don’t respond, just keep working, fingers steady as you disconnect the ruined wires and begin patching in new ones. The silence stretches, except for the occasional instruction from Raven.

Bellamy watches, his gut twisting with every careful movement you make. You’re good at this—he knows that. You trained for it but that doesn’t stop the fear from gnawing at his insides.

Then, your hand slips. It’s small, barely even a mistake, but Bellamy sees it—the half-second where your grip falters, where your fingers hesitate before tightening again.

His heart slams into his ribs. “You good?” he asks, voice sharp.

“Yeah,” you say flatly. “Just adjusting.”

He doesn’t buy it. “Be careful,” he says, and it’s not a warning—it’s a plea.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Then, finally, you answer. “Yeah,” you say, voice quiet, detached. “I know.”

The first sign that something is wrong isn’t the alarm, it’s the way your body suddenly jerks backward. One second, you’re gripping the panel, fingers steady as you adjust a wire. The next, you’re yanked off balance, spinning weightlessly as your tether strains against the sudden force.

Then the alarm blares.

WARNING: OXYGEN LEAK DETECTED.

“Shit—shit!” Raven’s voice cuts through the comms. “Y/N, your suit—”

You barely register her words before your back collides with the ring. Hard. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, not that there’s much to lose in this vacuum. Pain explodes along your ribs, sharp and searing, but you barely react. You don’t have time. You reach for the emergency sealant on your suit, fingers fumbling as precious oxygen hisses out into the abyss.

And Bellamy’s voice slams into you next. “Y/N!” It’s not just fear you hear, it’s terror—raw and unfiltered.

You quickly find the breach. A tear along your left side, jagged and leaking life into the void. Your hands are shaking, but you manage to slap the sealant patch over the hole, pressing down until the hissing stops. Your oxygen stabilizes but barely.

“Leak’s patched,” you say, panting. “I’m good.”

“The hell you are!” Bellamy is livid. “Get back inside. Now.”

You don’t respond, completely choosing to ignore his demand. Instead, you reach for the wires again, forcing yourself to focus. You’re almost done. If you can just—

“Y/N, stop!” Raven snaps. “You just got thrown against the ring, you’re leaking oxygen, and—holy shit, are you hurt?”

You blink, trying to push past the dizziness clouding your vision. “I can still finish this.”

Bellamy curses under his breath. “Y/N, listen to me. Your suit is compromised. You could die out there.”

But that’s the thing, you don’t care, not really—so you keep working.

“Goddamn it,” Bellamy seethes. “Get back inside. Now.”

You don’t. You keep working, hands moving through the pain, through the weight pressing against your ribs. You can feel where the impact bruised you, where every breath pulls tight and sharp, but you push past it. You have to finish this.

“Y/N.” Bellamy’s voice is razor-edged, frantic. “I swear to God, if you don’t turn around and get your ass back inside—”

You ignore him.

“Y/N!”

His voice crackles through the speaker, raw and unrelenting, but you block it out.

“You’re being reckless—damn it, just listen to me!”

Still, you don’t stop.

“Raven, tell her—”

“She muted us,” Raven cuts in, voice hollow.

Bellamy stills. “What?”

“She—” Raven exhales sharply, glancing at the monitor. “She fucking muted us.”

Bellamy’s stomach drops. His hands curl into fists at his sides, useless, helpless. His breath is heavy, ragged, heart slamming against his ribs as he watches you continue—silent, cut off from him completely.

His jaw clenches. “Fuck.” He moves toward the airlock, every instinct screaming at him to do something, anything—but Raven grabs his arm, yanking him back. “You can’t go out there,” she says, voice tight. “She’s almost done.”

“She’s fucking hurt, Raven!”

“And she’s still the best shot we’ve got at fixing this,” Raven snaps. “She wouldn’t be out there otherwise.”

Bellamy shakes his head, hands gripping his hair. “She shouldn’t be out there at all.”

Raven doesn’t argue because she knows he’s right.

On the screen, you move quickly but your fingers are steady despite everything.

No hesitation, no fear, no regard for your own damn life.

Bellamy watches in agonizing silence, tension coiled so tightly in his chest he can barely breathe. His nails dig into his palms as each second drags by, as you move with a focus that terrifies him.

Then, finally—You push off the panel, securing the last wire in place. The system stabilizes and the warning lights shift, flickering back to green.

It’s done. You did it.

Bellamy exhales shakily. Relief floods through his chest first, sharp and fleeting. Then the anger, then the frustration and then the gut-wrenching fear that’s been clawing at him since the moment you stepped into that suit. And the second you unmute the comms, his voice slams into you like a freight train.

“Get. Back. Inside.”

It’s not a request. It’s not even an order. It’s a demand laced with fury, desperation, and something you can’t quite name.

And it immediately sends a shiver rolling down your spine.

The airlock decompresses with a deep hiss, the artificial gravity settling over you like a weight and your body protests immediately. Every muscle aches, along with the impact from earlier sending a sharp, radiating pain through your ribs. You wince, rolling your shoulders, but you don’t let yourself dwell on it.

The doors slide open with a hiss and Bellamy is standing there, waiting—pissed.

His arms are crossed over his chest, his jaw tight, and his eyes are dark with barely restrained fury. The second he sees you, his glare sharpens, cutting through the space between you like a blade.

You ignore it. Stepping past him, you reach for the clasps of your suit, peeling the thick layers away from your body. The adrenaline is wearing off now, leaving exhaustion and pain in its wake. But you keep moving, methodical and unbothered, until—

“What the fuck was that?” Bellamy’s voice is sharp and unrelenting.

You sigh, not bothering to look at him as you undo the chest plate. “Fixing the power relay.”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t act like that was just another job. You nearly got yourself killed out there.”

“I didn’t.” You keep your tone flat, unphased, shoving the gloves off your hands.

“You muted me,” he growls. “You ignored every goddamn thing I was saying, and then—”

“Because I needed to focus.” You exhale sharply, finally looking at him. “And I fixed it, didn’t I?”

Bellamy stares at you like he doesn’t recognize you. His hands flex at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Bellamy?” you snap, yanking at the last layer of the suit, wincing slightly when it tugs at your ribs. “That I didn’t listen to you? That I didn’t crawl back the second you told me to?”

“The point,” he grits out, stepping closer, “is that you don’t care if you make it back at all.”

Something in your chest tightens but you ignore it.

Bellamy shakes his head, breath unsteady, hands trembling with the force of his anger, but beneath it, beneath all of it—is fear. Real, consuming, gut-wrenching fear.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” His voice is lower now, rougher. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” He gestures at you, his expression twisting. “Skipping meals, taking shifts no one else will, volunteering for every dangerous job that comes up—you think I don’t know what that means?”

Your throat feels tight, but you refuse to look away.

Bellamy swallows hard. “You want to burn yourself out, don’t you?”

There's nothing but silence. You hold his gaze, heart slamming against your bruised ribs. He searches your face, waiting—begging for a denial, but you don’t give him one. And that’s what breaks him the most.

You don’t speak—you don’t even look at him as a tear slips down your cheek, but you don’t wipe it away. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, of proving his words right. Instead, you finish peeling off the last of your spacesuit, ignoring the sting in your muscles, the ache in your ribs where you slammed into the ring.

The suit is heavier than it should be as you hang it back up. It feels like closing a door, like leaving something behind, and for a brief second, you wish you could step out of your own skin and leave yourself behind too.

Bellamy doesn’t move. He stands there, stiff, furious, seething in the kind of silence that feels like a countdown to something explosive. Still, you say nothing and turn, walking away.

But as your luck has it, he follows. “Hey.” His voice is sharp, like a blade drawn too fast. “Don’t walk away from me.”

You keep walking, ignoring his footsteps behind you.

“Y/N.”

Your fingers curl around your bedroom door, heart hammering, but before you can slam it shut, Bellamy’s hand shoves against it, stopping you with ease. You whip around, furious. “Get out.”

He doesn’t move. Instead, he steps inside and then with a slow, deliberate motion, he turns and locks the door behind him.

Your pulse jumps. “What the hell are you doing?”

Bellamy’s chest rises and falls, his breath harsh, his whole body thrumming with barely contained frustration. “No, what the hell are you doing?” His voice is low, rough, shaking with something deeper than anger. “Because whatever this is, whatever the fuck you’ve been doing—it’s not survival, Y/N. It’s suicide.”

His words hit harder than they should. You swallow against the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t go away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bellamy lets out a hollow laugh, but there’s no humor in it, just disbelief, just pain. “The hell I don’t,” he snaps. “You throw yourself into danger every chance you get. You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. You push yourself until you can barely stand, and you act like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.”

Your hands clench into fists at your sides. “Why do you care?”

The question stuns him into silence for a second and then—“Are you serious?” Bellamy takes a step closer, voice rising, eyes dark with anger. “Are you actually asking me that?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears, breath coming fast. “Yeah, Bellamy. I am.”

His hands clench at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to grab you, to shake some goddamn sense into you. “How the hell can you even say that?” His voice cracks on the words, but it only fuels his frustration. “After everything we’ve been through, after everything I’ve done for you—you think I don’t care?”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Really? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.”

Bellamy’s nostrils flare. “That’s bullshit.”

“Is it?” You take a step forward, closing the space between you, shoving your finger against his chest. “Because you sure don’t act like you care. You’re always with Echo, always making sure she’s okay, always talking to her—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bellamy growls, running a hand through his hair, pacing for a second before spinning back to you. “This isn’t about Echo!”

“Like hell it isn’t!” Your voice rises, shaking with anger, with exhaustion, with months of built-up resentment. “Ever since we got up here, it’s like I don’t even exist to you anymore! Like I could disappear tomorrow and you wouldn’t even notice!”

Bellamy’s face twists, his anger turning sharp. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice is dangerously low now, like a storm rolling in. “You’re the one who shut me out, Y/N. You stopped talking to me. You’re the one who left me first.”

The words hit you like a slap. Your hands tremble at your sides, your chest rising and falling too fast, too erratic. “That’s not—”

“Yes, it is!” Bellamy shouts, voice raw now, ragged with emotion. “You pulled away from me, you buried yourself in every reckless job you could find, like you were just waiting for something to fucking kill you! And what was I supposed to do, huh? Stand there and watch?”

Your whole body is shaking now, rage and hurt battling for control. “You don’t get to act like this is my fault!”

“I don’t?” He lets out a hollow, furious laugh. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

Your eyes burn. “I needed you, Bellamy,” you whisper, voice trembling, but there’s still fire behind it. “And you weren’t there.”

He stares at you like you just knocked the air from his lungs. “I wasn’t—” He shakes his head, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “That’s not fucking fair.”

You bark out another humorless laugh. “Fair? Fair? You want to talk about fair?” Your voice is almost hysterical now, the emotions clawing at your throat, ripping their way out. “I lost my dad. I lost Clarke. And now—” Your voice cracks, your breath catching, and you shake your head, like you can stop the truth from falling from your lips. But it’s too late. You swallow hard. “And now I’ve lost you too.”

Bellamy flinches, like the words physically hurt him. His jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling too fast. “You haven’t lost me,” he grits out, barely more than a whisper. “I’m right here.”

“No, you’re not,” you snap, voice breaking, hands trembling. “You haven’t been here in a long time.”

Bellamy shakes his head, his frustration boiling over again. “That’s not true.”

“Then why do I feel like it is?” Your voice cracks, the rawness slipping through, the vulnerability you’ve been trying so fucking hard to hold back.

Bellamy exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I—”

“Just forget it,” you mutter, turning away, chest heaving, because this is getting too close, too painful, and you can’t do this anymore.

But Bellamy won’t let it go. He moves closer, voice lowering but no less intense. “No. I’m not just gonna forget it. You think I don’t care? You think I don’t give a shit whether you live or die?” He lets out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

You snap your head back toward him, eyes blazing. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, Bellamy? You’ve barely even looked at me for months. Every time I turn around, you’re with her.”

Bellamy’s expression twists, his face turning red with frustration. “Because Echo was suicidal, Y/N! She was barely holding on, and I—I was just trying to keep her from jumping off the goddamn edge!”

You flinch at the words, at the way his voice cracks with them. For a second, just a second, the anger wavers but then it snaps back into place, because it still doesn’t change anything. You shake your head, eyes burning. “And what about me?”

Bellamy stills.

You swallow hard, voice breaking now. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I was barely holding on too?”

The room goes silent. Bellamy’s breath stutters, his face paling.

You suck in a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill, but you push through it, force yourself to keep going. “You were so busy saving her, you didn’t even notice I was drowning too.”

His lips part, his throat working like he wants to say something—anything but nothing comes out.

Your hands curl into fists, your whole body trembling with too many emotions at once. And then, before you can stop yourself, before you can shove it back down where it’s been buried for so long—A sob rips from your throat.

Tears spill down your face, hot and unstoppable, and you hate it—hate that you’re falling apart in front of him, hate that he still has this power over you. But you can’t take it anymore. Not the distance, not the hurt, not the way his voice keeps cutting into you like a blade.

Bellamy’s face twists, something breaking in his expression as he watches you unravel. “Y/N—”

“No!” Your voice cracks, ragged and raw, and you shove at his chest, frustration and pain mixing into one. “I can’t do this anymore, Bellamy! I can’t—” You shake your head wildly, barely able to breathe through the sobs clawing their way out. “I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this. Like it doesn’t fucking kill me every time you look right through me.”

Bellamy flinches like you just struck him. “That’s not fair,” he snaps, but his voice is weaker now, desperate. “You left first—”

“Because I had to!” you shout, voice breaking. “Because I couldn’t stand being near you anymore! Not when you—” Your breath stutters, your chest heaving as your whole body shakes. “Not when you love her.”

Bellamy’s brows furrow, his frustration surging again. “Goddamn it, Y/N, stop it!” His voice is sharp, cutting, but there’s something fraying at the edges, something just as fragile as you are. “This isn’t about Echo!”

“Then what the hell is it about?” you cry, throwing your hands in the air. “Because all I know is that every time I look at you, I feel like I’m losing you all over again!”

His jaw clenches, his hands twitching at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to grab you or walk away. “You’re not losing me,” he grits out, voice hoarse.

“Yes, I am!” Your voice rises again, hysteria creeping into it. “I already have, Bellamy! And you know what?” You let out a hollow, bitter laugh, shaking your head, tears dripping from your chin. “It’s my own fucking fault.”

Bellamy’s breath stutters, his eyes searching yours, frantic now, desperate. “Y/N—”

“Because I fell in love with you!” The words burst out of you, torn straight from your chest, too loud, too raw, too fucking real.

The room goes deathly silent and Bellamy stills, his whole body locking up. His lips part, his throat working, but no words come.

The silence shatters something inside you. It’s worse than him yelling, worse than him fighting back. The nothingness stretches between you like a gaping wound, and you feel yourself bleeding out, piece by piece, breath by breath.

You let out a choked, humorless laugh, shaking your head as fresh tears burn down your cheeks. “Forget it,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Forget I said anything.”

You turn, reaching for the door, ready to escape, but then Bellamy moves—fast. Before you can take another step, his hands are on your face, cupping your tear stained cheeks, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you there. His grip is firm, almost desperate, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go and then he kisses you. Hard.

It’s not soft or careful. It’s raw, and feverish, like a dam breaking, like months, years of unspoken words and bottled-up feelings crashing down all at once. He pours everything into it, into you, and the moment his lips move against yours, a sob catches in your throat.

Your hands grasp at his jacket, fisting the fabric as your knees nearly give out. Bellamy groans against your lips, pressing closer, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you against him like he’s trying to mold your body to his.

The kiss is messy, desperate, almost too much and not enough all at once. It’s teeth and tongue and aching hunger, his breath mixing with yours, his heartbeat hammering against your own. You feel alive again, like every shattered piece of you is finally snapping back into place.

When you finally break apart, you’re both gasping, foreheads pressed together, hands still clinging to each other like lifelines.

Bellamy’s voice is hoarse, wrecked. “I love you.”

Your breath shudders out, and you blink up at him, eyes still glassy with tears. “You—you do?”

Bellamy lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, but there’s nothing amused about it. “Of course I do,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your cheek, his other hand still tangled in your hair. “I always have.”

Another sob rises in your throat, but this time, it’s not from heartbreak.

It’s relief. Overwhelming, breathtaking relief.

Bellamy presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, slower—like he’s memorizing you, like he never wants to stop.

And for the first time in a long time, neither of you have to run anymore.

author’s note:

hiii! I hope this one wasn’t too much of a downer 😅 probably one of the most deeply emotional works I’ve written. I know it started out v sad in the beginning but I like to describe how it makes the reader feel so that you guys know where y/n is coming from.

nonny, I hope this is what you were looking for? I know it’s not straight up enemies to lovers but I added a little twist. figured since the reader was clarke’s best friend and co leader of the 100 she and bellamy would’ve gotten along at one point.

anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed! If anyone wants to request anything please see the link below and read the rules before submitting :)

— requests are open.ᐟᅟ please read request rules.ᐟᅟ

tags:

@rubydacherry42 @chalametsangel @imsiriuslyreal (lmk if I’ve missed anyone)

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

my works

© maddie0101 do not copy or repost my works without my permission

[oldermenaremyreligion]

TAKING REQUEST RN!!!

Now that I’m on break I will be taking any request for fics. I don’t do any smut right now just because I haven’t written it before but I love doing angst and fluff so if y’all have any ideas you want to see just send me anything in my ask box or in the comments under this post.

Please submit any ideas and I’ll try to get them all, and remember this is a judgment free zone so feel free to request anything.

Will write for list below the cut:

Joel Miller

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Bellamy Blake

John Murphy

Carlisle Cullen

Simon Riley

Moon Knight Boys

Matt Murdock

Loki Laufeyson

[misscherry-26]

something where the reader and Bellamy are good friends and partners as guards but there’s some underlying tension and feelings involved. Cute flirting and teasing?

Between Guard and Heart

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you for this request. I tried to make an open ending in terms of not both confessing their feelings but leaving a hint of something between them. I hope you enjoy it!

There could be grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language

You met Bellamy on the first day of your job as a guard on the Ark. It was funny because it was also his first day. You remember it as if it was yesterday. 

You hurried down the narrow corridor, nerves buzzing in your chest, you nearly crashed straight into him. The clipboard you were holding flew from your hands, papers scattering across the metal floor.

“Easy there,” he commented with a smirk, bending down to help you gather them.

You shot him a look, trying to steady your breathing as a small, nervous smile tugged at your lips as you gathered the rest of the papers. “Thank you.” 

Your hands trembled slightly, and you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“If you needed an excuse to talk to me, you could’ve just said so.” He adds teasing you. 

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you quickly glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up your neck. “Right, because tripping into cocky guards is exactly how I planned to spend my first day,” you replied, the words coming out a little shakier than you intended.

He chuckled, standing up and offering you a hand to help you to your feet. “First day, huh? Same here. Looks like we’re both a little out of our depth.”

The revelation caught you off guard, and your nerves spiked again, though for a different reason. “Yeah? You sure don’t seem like it,” you muttered, trying to focus on anything but the way his hand felt warm and solid in yours as he helped you up.

Bellamy flashed you a crooked grin, holding onto your hand just a second longer than necessary. “Guess I’m just good at faking it.”

After that encounter, you and Bellamy grew closer, especially when you were partnered up on the same monotonous shifts, in which you two shared a lot in common. From everyday thoughts to what the two would do if earth was habitable…the two of you complement each other. Still, you sensed that Bellamy kept something to himself. You never asked, nor pushed him to tell you about it. Until one day…

You and Bellamy used to reunite at your house every week to hangout and chat, but today he didn’t knock on your door. You thought maybe he would be late. But after an hour, you got worried. It wasn’t like him to ignore you. So you decided to go to his house. 

You’d knocked once, but there was no answer. After a second knock, you hesitated, then heard a soft rustling from inside.

“Bellamy?” you called out.

But you got no response. You leaned on the door and this one moved slightly. That worried you. It wasn’t usual to have their doors unlocked. you pushed it open and stepped inside, closing it just a bit. 

But as you took another step, you froze. There, hiding in the corner behind a shelf was a girl—her eyes wide, filled with fear, and her face pale in the dim light. You stared at her, heart pounding in your chest. 

Before you could say anything, Bellamy appeared in the doorway, his face pale.

His eyes darted between you and Octavia, panic tightening his features. Closing and locking the door, he stepped in front of her protectively, his voice low and urgent.

“Look, I can explain—just don’t say anything,” he blurted out, his usual confident tone cracking with worry.

You knew then. She was his sister. 

You stood there for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say. This was why he was so protective, why he always avoided certain topics.

“I won’t.” You said softly, meeting his eyes. 

You then walked and stopped in front of the little girl, extending your hand in a friendly way.

“Hi, I’m Bellamy’s friend.”

His sister smiled and shaked your hand. She was intimidated at first, used to seeing only his brother and mother. Bellamy’s sister takes a look at him, as if to confirm she was one to trust. His brother nods.

“I’m Octavia.”

From that day forward, things changed. You began visiting Bellamy and Octavia more often, bringing small gifts to brighten her secluded life—ribbons, a book, and once even a small trinket you’d found. You’d sit with her, telling stories about what it was like outside, sharing everything she longed to know. You could see the awe and wonder in her eyes as she listened, soaking in every detail, and it warmed something deep inside you.

Bellamy often stood at the side, watching quietly, his heart swelling with every laugh or smile you brought to his sister’s face. He’d never seen anyone be so kind, so genuine with Octavia. You didn’t have to do any of this, but you did, and that meant more to him than words could express.

The more he watched, the more his feelings for you deepened. He’d always admired your strength and determination, but now, seeing you with Octavia, those feelings took root in a way that left him reeling. You were everything he didn’t realize he needed—honest, generous, and completely selfless when it came to the people you cared about.

“Careful,” you teased one day, catching him watching you from across the room. “You keep staring at me like that, and I’ll start charging you.”

Bellamy scoffed, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah? I didn’t realize I had to pay for someone to distract my sister all day.”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Distract? Please. You’re just jealous because I’m better company than you.”

Bellamy leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Better company, huh? You really think I can’t hold my own?”

You shrugged, flashing him a teasing smile. “Well, it’s not hard when the competition spends most of his time brooding in a corner.”

“Brooding?” Bellamy repeated with a chuckle, stepping closer. “I prefer to call it ‘thinking.’”

“Right,” you quipped, leaning in slightly. “And here I thought you were just admiring the view.”

He faltered for just a moment, the playful banter giving way to something a little deeper, a little more intense. But he quickly recovered, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. 

“You wish.”

Before you could respond, Octavia called your name, breaking the moment. You turned, your focus shifting back to her as Bellamy watched quietly, his teasing expression softening. The way you treated his sister—like she was just another girl, not a secret to be hidden away—meant more to him than he could say.

The more he watched you with Octavia, the more his feelings for you deepened. He’d always admired your strength, your quick wit, but seeing the way you treated his sister—You were everything he didn’t realize he needed—honest, generous.

But then, everything changed.

Your bosses changed your shift and you found yourself temporarily partnered with Elliot, another guard. Until his partner recovered, you were assigned to cover his rounds. It was standard procedure, nothing unusual. But somehow it shifted between you and Bellamy.

Elliot was easy to get along with, the two falling into an easy rhythm. 

But for Bellamy, it didn’t look like that.

It started with the smaller things, he would catch you laughing or talking animatedly with Elliot and a strange knot would twist in his stomach. He reminded himself that it was nothing, that you just were being friendly. But the more he saw, the harder it became to ignore. You and Elliot seemed too close, and that bothered him.

With your new shift change, you weren’t able to visit the Blake’s as frequently as you used to. You wanted to tell Bellamy about it—you missed Octavia—but every time you tried to call him, he would simply look away and leave. At first you thought he was stressed or distracted.

But days turned into weeks and so on. You couldn’t understand it. Why was he acting like that?

One day, you cornered him when he finished his patrol, frustrated and confused. You hadn’t seen Bellamy in days, it wasn’t like him, something was wrong, and you needed to know why.

“Bellamy!” you called, following him down the corridor.

He glanced over his shoulder, his pace quickening. You caught up to him, grabbing his arm.

 “What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.” He stiffened under your touch, his expression cold. 

“Don’t give me that” You step in front of him, blocking his path. “You’ve barely spoken to me. You act like I don’t exist. I don’t know what I did, but you need to tell me.”

His jaw clenches, eyes flickering with frustration—jealousy. He shakes his head. 

“Look, I’ve got a lot in mind, okay? Just focus on your new partner—it seems like you and him get along just fine.”

“You think something’s going on with me and Elliot?” You ask incredulously. “You’ve been ignoring me because of him?” You pushed, stepping closer, “wait—are you jealous?”

He scoffs, refusing to look at you. “ I’m not.” 

You take a deep breath, your voice softening.

 “Bell, there’s nothing going on between him and i. We are just friends, that’s it. Whatever you are thinking—you’re wrong.”

His eyes meet yours then, flickering with something—relief, maybe. 

You let out a soft sigh and smile, gently shaking your head side to side.

“You can be so stubborn sometimes” 

For a moment, Bellamy doesn’t say anything, his eyes still locked on yours, the tension slowly starting to unravel. His shoulders relax, just a little, and you can almost see the weight lifting from him.

“You really think I’d just replace you like that?” you ask softly, stepping closer, your tone teasing but your gaze sincere. “You’re not that easy to get rid of.”

Bellamy chuckles, but it’s a quiet, almost self-conscious sound, his guard slipping just a bit more. “Guess I’ve been an idiot, huh?”

You nod, your smile widening. “Just a little.”

For a second, neither of you moves. Then, without overthinking it, you close the distance between you, resting your hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to push me away, Bell,” you say gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks at you for a long moment, then nods, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, the vulnerability clear.

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that feels like a quiet promise between you both. And though nothing else is said, it’s enough for now.

[r4vn]

—REQUEST RULES

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–since this is a multi-fandom account, i [will] write (both here on tumblr and Ao3) for fandoms such as invincible, the 100, saltburn, voyagers, riddick, attack on titan, fast and furious, castlevania, blood of zeus, gran turismo, and maybe more to come!

–i write mostly angst, tension,sensual/sexual, slow burn, pining fics. i try my best at fluff but holy shit i suck. i enjoy watching my reader yearn for more ;)

– as you have probably seen, i write for both reader and original characters (OC). ik OC fics get turned away alot, but as a reader myself i enjoy the fic regardless if im in it or not :D

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