#endless bellamy

[where-the-wind-travels]

top row — amethyst grimes & euphemia labelle (ilw) ✦ middle row — moi kujaku (es) & elias bellamy (ds) ✦ bottom row — raida pearce (bb) & maya minobe (rod)

inspired by @choicesmc ♡

[lorstone]

Watching old Muse music videos and realising Matt Bellamy gives total Dream of the Endless vibes 😂

[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

[ocearinaa]

FIRST CHOICE | B . BLAKE

summary : since you can remember, you’ve always been a last choice to everyone, never allowing yourself to get close to anyone. that is until someone comes in a changes every with a simple action and words.

warning : smut (piv, public—they’re out in the open)

word count : 3.8K

You always felt like a second choice—no, not even second. The last option. When nothing else worked, you were the last person to be sought out. Forever and always. It was your fate, your destiny. Over time, you grew used to it, allowed it to be a part of you, despite the distaste it would always leave in your mouth whenever people asked for your help, knowing why they were here.

And now, you’re on the ground. The air felt refreshing, new, not recycled. Trees were endless, the water sparkled in the shining sun that casted long shadows on the ground. It was beautiful, breathtaking. A whole new world and it was all yours.

Well, not completely yours.

Grounders were a threat, the biggest threat yet. Constantly seeking your camp out, hunting you like you were wild animals they could eat. It was tortuous.

But unity day took all that pressure and fear away. A day to relax.

You weren’t alone, your only friends being Monty and Jasper. Not the best influences, but no one in camp really was—you were all criminals, all seemingly untrustworthy. But those two were the only two you let hold your life in their hands. Not the best with weapons or combat, but they never let you feel like a last resort to them.

Jasper was urging you to have some moonshine, his grin wide and reaching his eyes, his dark brown irises glistening under the pale moon.

“Have some,” he said, his voice urgent as he held a cup with liquid inside. “It’s unity day, and we’re on earth! Celebrate.”

A small sigh escapes you, and you can’t help the small smile that spreads over your lips. You finally take the cup from him and bring it to your lips, taking a sip. The alcohol burns down your throat, warm and scorching. But there’s a sweet and bitter taste that makes it bearable.

Jasper and Monty cheer at you, large grins both covering their faces and you laugh—actually laugh. You had been so worried about Earth, the grounds, surviving, not allowing yourself a break and now you were being forced to have one.

And it felt so good.

Time ticked by, people got drunk. You had excused yourself from your friends, hearing their protests. You were relaxed, body not rigid, mind not tense. Your feet led you to the lake, the same lake you visited on your first day. It looked even more stunning with the moon reflecting against the glass-like liquid.

You sat on the ground, legs drawn to your chest and arms wrapped firmly around them. Your gaze was trained on the scenery, on the open space around you. Here, you weren’t a last option, you didn’t need to be an option. Nature took you in as its own, allowed you these beautiful sights whenever you wanted.

The night was young, beautifully so. A sight that felt so intimately yours.

The sound of branches snapping brought you back to reality, your head turning around toward the sound in an instant. Your body went tense, shoulders tight, your eyes narrowing to see through the dark.

That’s when you see him. Bellamy Blake.

Your body relaxes ever so slightly, a small sigh of relief escaping you as he nears where you sat on the ground.

“Did I scare you?” He asked, his tone mocking, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You sneaked up on me in the dark, of course you did.” You answer with a firm tone, your gaze moving away from him and back to vast water.

He chuckled from behind, low but not unkind. He was a power that couldn’t be reckoned with. A being who held strength and courage all in one, never wavering or faltering under anyone’s gaze. A strong leader who cared.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

You turn your head once more, finding him sat next to you. His legs stretched out in front of him, hands placed on the ground to keep his back straight. His gaze wasn’t on yours, rather the moon. And even from your position, you could see how it reflected in his irises.

“Yeah…” you finally say in all but a whisper, turning your gaze to the moon yourself.

A full circle, shining brightly in the sky and offering its light for the dark night the enveloped the sky. It truly was the most beautiful thing ever, even from space, seeing the moon on Earth was impossible to be compared to. Holding so much beauty and meaning, like its entire existence was for one thing.

To bring light even in the darkest times.

“You often come to the lake by yourself?” Bellamy’s voice broke the silence first, a deep rumble yet it held a sense of kindness to it.

Strange, you thought, he’s usually so stern.

You look to him, and this time he’s already looking at you. Your heart skips a beat for a moment, his gaze is intense and heavy, something that is impossible to ignore. You nod as a response and he smiles. He actually smiles.

“I see why,” he says, looking to the water, “it’s peaceful here.”

It was like a secret hideout, somewhere only you knew about. No one ever came here, it was only you, but Bellamy now knew about it, and something about him knowing didn’t make you uncomfortable.

“You think the air alone is comforting?” You ask, head tilting as your lips turn up into a small grin. “The water is even more so.”

Bellamy smirks at you, his brow raised in curiosity. “Are you trying to see my shirtless, princess?”

The nickname has fell so easily from his lips, like it was perfectly made for you. But it was the suggestion of his words that made you pause. You hadn’t meant it in that way, had you? You just wanted to let him in on a secret.

Your silence only amused Bellamy further, his smirk growing ever so slightly, a light hum escaping his lips. Before you know it, he’s pulling his shirt off and discarding it somewhere. Then, he’s working on removing his pants, socks, shoes. Everything until he’s in nothing but his boxers.

You don’t mean to stare, but you do. He’s like a magnet, a force you can’t avoid. He’s built like a warrior, despite being nothing but a janitor on the Ark. His body toned, defined muscles, scars from battles on the ground. It’s only when he speaks do you look up.

“It’s rude to stare you know.”

You swallow, blinking a few times, willing your mind to not wander. But it’s hard when he’s standing there, his body practically calling to you. You mutter an apology and he chuckles, he doesn’t need one. He’s cocky, and he knows he’s attractive. A dangerous combination.

“Join me.”

It’s not an offer, it’s a command.

It’s a command you can’t reject.

You don’t think while stripping, reduced to nothing but your bra and underwear. Now he’s staring. His eyes travel head to toe, taking in all of you—drinking in every inch like he has tasted water in days.

“It’s rude to stare.” You comment, repeating his previous words.

Bellamy doesn’t care, he takes his time to look back up into your eyes, a devilish glint in his eyes. He takes a step closer, as much as you probably should move back, you don’t.

“Can you blame me, pretty?”

A new name. Another name to make your mind twist with thoughts, filled with images. You swallow. Was this another case of being a last resort? Had he flirted with every girl in camp for release and grew bored or been rejected?

You shake the thoughts off, remembering Monty’s words.

“You’ll be someone’s first choice.”

You allow your body to relax, rolling your eyes as a response. “Get in the water.”

You turn, taking steps toward the water. Your feet hit first, and you continue further until the water reaches the middle of your stomach. Your entire lower body is submerged, cold and relaxing water splashing against your body.

And then, there’s a presence in front of you. You hadn’t realised your eyes had been closed, but they open to be met with Bellamy’s gaze already on yours. He doesn’t look stern, he doesn’t look like a leader in this moment. He simply looks like a man admiring something close to a goddess.

He’s admiring you.

The thought has your heart pounding harshly against your chest, your pulse quickening in your ear. You’re sure he can hear the racing beat of your heart, that it may have torn from your chest and right into his hands.

But it hasn’t.

“The water is nice.” He says, his voice far too calm in comparison to your body that feels like it’s aflame right now.

You can only manage a nod, every word failing you in that very moment. The world felt still, like it had stopped spinning for a moment. It felt like it belonged to you, allowing you the choice of what happened—your very own game of sorts.

But this isn’t a game. Bellamy isn’t a choice.

He’s a want, a need. A desire.

“What are you thinking about, princess?”

Bellamy’s voice is lower, it sounds closer. And it’s only then do you realise your eyes have closed again. You open them, to find he’s leaned closer, his lips had been right against your ear. So very close. What were you thinking? You didn’t even know yourself.

Him.

He’d plagued your every thought, with one simple interaction. It was almost pathetic. You spent your life avoiding feelings like this, not allowing yourself to get close, in fear of being someone’s last choice. Yet here you were, allowing yourself to fall. And for once, you weren’t sure if you wanted to be saved.

He moves closer, the water swaying between you. His hands find their way to your waist, his head leaning down to be mere inches from yours. Now you’re sure he can hear your rapid heart, maybe even see the thoughts that course through your mind.

A smirk graces his lips, you thought he might’ve spoke and had been too lost in thoughts to register the words, but he had been silent. The moon illuminated every perfect feature on his face, he looked perfectly sculpted by the gods themselves. A sinful being.

“You know,” he says, and you instantly catch the voice echoing in your ears. “I’ve seen you from afar, all alone. Why’s such a pretty being never sworn by desperate men?”

You pause, almost falter under his intense gaze and words. Almost. It felt like dagger, thought it was an accusation. It was a question, one that came from pure curiosity and speculation and nothing more.

But how does one so simply say they had always been the last choice? Never seen in the crowd of first choices. It’s unknown, a harsh feeling that’s been embedded to your entire being.

“I’m not their first choice.”

Bellamy falters. The smirk disappearing far too quickly from his lips, the intense gaze he always wore shifting to something softer. Pity, maybe. But it didn’t feel like just that. It felt deeper, something more than just feeling bad.

“You’re my first choice.”

The world felt like it had stilled, motionless around you. His gaze is still locked on yours, still watching any move or reaction you give, like a predator watching his prey. But it’s not harsh or intense, not forcing, it’s gentle. Like he’s gently coaxing more information from you.

“What?” You splutter, unsure if you had even heard him correctly or if it had been a cruel joke your ears played.

“You heard me, princess,” he says, a chuckle escaping him.

His arms wrap more firmly around your waist, pulling you closer to him. And you let him. Because maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe Monty was right, maybe you were his first choice.

The words fail you once more, unable to form a coherent sentence even in your mind. Far too fogged with his words replaying over like a broken record. Bellamy doesn’t speak either, he just keeps his gaze trained on you, like out of all nature surrounding you, you’re still the only thing worth looking at.

“You don’t believe me?”

He almost sounds hurt, but the understanding in his tone is more prominent. You only nod, confirming his suspicions. Instead of looking defeated or walking away, he smiles. A genuine smile like the one you saw previously.

“Want me to prove it?”

You pause, your body stilling as if the water had became ice around you. You only stare at him with wide eyes. Prove it. You rack your brain for logicality, to prove he was simply lying and playing her. But there was no deception in his eyes, and Bellamy Blake was a truthful man.

Sometimes, the truth was dangerous. But right now, you craved the truth.

You nod for a response again, and that’s all the confirmation Bellamy needs before crashing his lips against yours. You expected him to start gentle, but his kiss is desperate, passionate, like he’s been holding back far too long and can’t contain himself and his desire any longer.

Your eyes flutter closed, your body relaxes as his presses his every muscle against your body—his skin a warm contrast to the cold water and night air. A welcome heat. Your arms wrap around his neck, one hand moving to tangle in his hair.

Any doubts are thrown to the wind, any second guesses of what you are gone.

All you know and care about is his taste, how his lips feel against yours. How intoxicating the man before you is.

You’re addicted, and he’s the drug.

His hands moved to the backs of your thighs, hoisting your body up with ease as if you were nothing but a feather to him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your head tipping to the side as his tongue drags along your bottom lip and within an instant, you grant him access.

His tongue explores you, a low groan vibrating against your lips as if the taste of you satisfies him. You’re loosing all sanity, needing him like the air you breathe, how you need food and water.

He pulls away first, leaving you missing the feel of his lips on yours.

“We should get out the water at least.”

His words are true, but you don’t want to wait. And you definitely can’t walk into camp in nothing but your underwear. Bellamy practically senses your disappointment, a cocky smirk curling into his lips. You expect some snarky comment, but are met with none.

“You promise to be quiet?”

Is he suggesting you do it here? In the vast open nature? The sun is low beyond the horizon, the moon taking its place. It’s late, most people wouldn’t dare venture the woods this late, this dark—plus, they were far too distracted with getting drunk to care what was beyond their camp.

You nod. But actions aren’t enough this time.

“Promise.”

Bellamy smiled at you, like he abandoned the cocky smirk to only smile for you. He carries you out the water, and your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest in anticipation. His words echo in your mind; “you’re my first choice.”

He sets you carefully on the ground, settling between your legs with his hands either side of your head to keep his weight up, and not crush you. You stare up at him, unblinking, and he only meets your gaze. So soft, so unlike what he wants to do.

“You sure you want this?” He asks, voice anything but a whisper.

“I do,” you confirm, a small smile gracing your lips.

That’s all he needs, all he needs to stop holding back, to take what he so desperately wants. In a moments time, his lips are back on yours, it’s not as desperate but it’s intimate, passionate—like he’s trying to spill his every emotion into one kiss. Your arms snake around his neck and pull him closer, not caring as his weight is flush against you.

He pulls back, you think that’s it, but his lips trail from your jaw to your neck. They start as soft kisses against your skin, then his teeth graze the sensitive flesh on your neck, causing a small gasp to escape you. Bellamy doesn’t stop, he pushes further, biting and sucking in that very same spot, leaving dark marks across your skin so visibly to everyone.

And he doesn’t care, neither do you. You want—need—people to know your his, that he never chose you last, show what could’ve been.

“I would really love to take this slow, princess,” he murmurs against your skin, you can feel the vibrations of his voice against you, “but I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”

You bring your gaze back to him, words not falling. Sure, you’re completely alone, but you can’t wait much longer either, he’s got you trapped under a spell. One you don’t want to break free off.

You smile at him, one hand moving from around the back of his neck and down his torso until you reach the waistband of his boxers. You see his breathing hitch, his eyes trailing your every move.

“Don’t hold back. Don’t wait any longer.”

Your words are like a promise, or an encouragement—Bellamy isn’t sure. But it’s enough for his hands to practically tear your panties off, a gasp escaping you as the cold night air hits your core, sending shivers up your spine.

Your fingers curl around the waistband, tugging them down, your eyes never leaving his face—he’s smirking again, like he’s not sure whether to smile or smirk around you, he almost looks proud. Of what? You don’t know.

He kicks the fabric off, his hands now parting your legs for better access. The tip of his cock pokes your entrance and yet another gasp leaves your parted lips. He’s teasing you after saying he can’t wait, slowly moving the tip up and down your slit.

“Bellamy,” the words are breathless, pleading, “please… don’t tease.”

No words, no reaction. No warning.

He pushes in, a mix of being gentle and being rough. A moan escape you and you quickly cover your mouth to muffle the sounds. Bellamy’s brows are knitted together and he grabs your wrist, firm but gentle and moves it.

“Come on, princess,” he muses, annoyingly cocky, “I know you can be quiet without using your hand.”

A thrust. Then nothing.

“You can be so quiet in quiet, but now I’m inside you, you struggle.”

His words feel degrading, harsh but so affectionate. You let out a shaky breath, your hips bucking up needing to feel him hit every inch inside you. He only chuckles, his hands back on your waist and forcing you still.

“Too big.” You whine out.

He tilts his head, smirking once more like he takes enjoyment—pleasure—in seeing you struggle to take him and be quiet.

“Be a good girl, be quiet.”

You manage a nod, and he finally moves. Every thrust rhythmic, slow and gradually speeding up, becoming faster, harder, purposeful. Your head leans back against the ground, eyes flutter close and Bellamy allows you to not watch—he has plenty more chances to make you watch.

He grips your waist tighter, near hard enough to leave bruises—he wants you to be quiet and yet he’s leaving evidence of your time together. He thrusts harder, deeper, hitting the perfect spot. You want to moan out, scream but you can’t and you know it.

“Bellamy,” you breathe out, ensuring your words are nothing but a breathless whisper for only him to hear.

He groans, low and quiet. His head hangs low, you’re not sure if his eyes are closed or if he’s watching how intimately you two are connected right now—both are enough to make you shiver with pleasure.

He doesn’t respond to your calling of his name, simply keeping his fast and relentless speed. The air is filled with labourer breathes and the soft sound of skin slapping against skin—like he’s trying to stay quiet but holding back is far too hard of a challenge.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and leaving your own marks on him, your own evidence of this moment. A memory that feels more than some pleasurable act.

“Say it,” you whisper.

Bellamy lifts his head, eyes filled with desire and yet a hint of confusion. “Say what?”

“What you said earlier.”

He smiles, nodding. “You’re my first choice. In every world, every time. You’re the one I want.”

A shaky, quiet moan escapes you and he doesn’t try tell you to be quiet—your sounds edging him on to the brink of falling, and he doesn’t want to be saved. He speeds up, if that’s even possible anymore, your jaw hangs as if though it’s not even attached to you anymore. He’s rough, needy, everything you didn’t expect.

Your lips move to speak, but nothing leaves you. He fills the blank for you.

“Close?”

You nod, legs shaking and his hand roams over one of your thighs as if to ease it for you. He doesn’t slow though, doesn’t become gentler, remaining the same pace and roughness. You lips a parted, it doesn’t even sound like you’re breathing anymore. Your mind blanks, empty of anything other than the blissful feeling of him moving in and out of you at a brutal speed.

It feels like a tidal wave washes other you as you feel your release. Rough but so good, so smooth. Your legs shake, vibrating like the world is shaking beneath you. Bellamy groans once more, unable to contain how you’re making him feel.

“Didn’t wait for me?”

Somehow he’s able to tease you even while his own impending release. You finally open your eyes to look at him, he only smirks at you as he continues, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, his move becoming sloppy even though he’s trying to remain the same—and you know, he’s close.

And then you feel it. Warm, filling your every inch. Coating your insides white. He slows, before coming to a stop. He drops on top of you and let out a breath.

“You’re heavy, you know?” You finally speak, tone teasing yet even just as breathless as before.

“Oh shush.”

You both lay there, silence surrounding you. Until you hear a branch break—it’s far but close enough to cause discomfort.

“We should get dressed.”

You nod, letting him help you put your clothes back on. You can still feel his liquid leaking, soaking your panties. And it felt far too good. You look to him, nuzzled to his chest as you calm your body from the high.

“The moon is beautiful isn’t it?” He says, you remember him saying before all this.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, brows furrowed like he’s gone mad.

“You’ve already said that.”

“You don’t know what it means?”

You stare at him, then shake your head. It’s like he’s purposely speaking in riddles, trying to make you go more insane than you already are. He chuckle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m saying I love you.”

You look at him, really look at him this time. It feels too soon to say it back but the feeling that floods through your body is enough to make you second guess.

“I love you too, Bellamy.”

[scarringstars]

endless bellamy blake: 1/???

[gf2bellamy]

hi!! i love ur writing style, idk how to describe it except it’s so soft and warm 🫶🏽 could i request something for bellamy? reader sort of knew bellamy on the ark. she ran away from the dropship on day one and survived on her own, maybe befriending some grounders in secret. either end of season one or season 2 bellamy sees her in the woods and recognizes her, maybe he convinces her to come back

thank you!

decision — bellamy blake

pairing: bellamy blake x reader ( no use of y/n) content warnings: hunting , mention of death , mention of a grounder's attack , mention of being injured a/n: thank you so so much for requesting !!! <333 loved the idea and i hope you enjoy this and it's how you imagined it :) sorry if it's too long😭

You sat around the fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across your face. The crackling of the wood was steady, rhythmic, almost hypnotic, but your thoughts were anything but calm. It was one of those nights—the kind where your mind betrayed you with endless "what ifs." What if things had gone differently? What if you’d made a different choice? Every "if" inevitably circled back to him. 

Bellamy Blake. 

The Bellamy who had saved your life more than once. Tonight, the memories weighed heavy on you, a familiar ache settling in your chest as you stared into the fire. 

Your mind drifted back to the Ark, to the first time you’d crossed paths with him. You’d snuck out after curfew that night, unable to bear the stifling walls of the Ark for a second longer. Sometimes the constant noise, the glaring artificial lights, the unrelenting pressure—it was all too much. 

You’d discovered a quiet spot months before, a secluded corner no one seemed to know about. It had become your sanctuary, the only place where you could breathe without feeling like the walls were closing in. 

But that night was different. Even as you crept through the dimly lit corridors, something in the pit of your stomach told you not to go. 

It was just a whisper, a tiny nudge of unease, but you ignored it. Maybe if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here now, heart aching, staring at the fire as memories clawed at you. 

The moment came rushing back, vivid as if it had happened yesterday. 

You’d rounded a corner near your secret spot, your footsteps light on the metal grates, when a figure suddenly loomed in front of you. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, neither of you moved, both startled by the unexpected encounter. 

The boy in front of you was tall, his posture tense but not threatening. His hair was slicked back with a bit too much gel, though stray curls rebelliously escaped at the sides. Freckles dotted his face, a contrast to the sharpness of his dark eyes, which were locked on you now. 

"What are you doing out here?" His voice was low, edged with a warning but not unkind. 

You’d scrambled for an excuse, something that didn’t sound as weak as the truth: that you were overwhelmed, that you needed a moment to escape the suffocating monotony of life on the Ark.  

“Uhm…” The word barely escaped your lips, your voice faltering as you struggled to form a coherent response. Your eyes darted to the jacket he was wearing—the unmistakable symbol of authority, the mark of a guard. Panic rose swiftly in your chest, a tidal wave threatening to drown you. 

Your mind raced, piecing together just how reckless you’d been. Sneaking out after curfew was one thing, but getting caught? By a guard? You might as well have signed your own death sentence. The weight of that realization hit you hard, and you froze, rooted in place as fear coiled tightly around your throat. 

The boy in front of you—no, not a boy, a guard—seemed to notice your unease. His dark eyes flickered, softening slightly. His gaze wasn’t cruel or cold like you might have expected, but concerned, curious. He stepped closer, cautiously, his movements deliberate so as not to startle you. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice low and steady. He hesitated, glancing around the corridor as though to ensure no one else was there. When he looked back at you, his expression was conflicted, his jaw tense as if he was weighing a decision in his mind. Finally, he spoke again, softer this time. “Just… go back. I won’t say anything.” 

His words stunned you. You’d braced yourself for the worst—an alarm, a punishment, something. But this? This was unexpected. 

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You wanted to thank him, or at least say something to convey your gratitude, but the fear was still too raw, too suffocating. All you could do was nod shakily, your legs moving on instinct as you turned and walked away. 

Behind you, Bellamy stood frozen, watching you retreat down the dimly lit corridor. His heart was pounding, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the quiet realization that he’d just risked everything for someone he didn’t even know. 

As he lingered there, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Octavia. The same fear that consumed him every day—the fear of losing her, of her secret being exposed—was what had driven his decision just now. 

Helping you had been instinctive, almost reflexive, as though saving you might somehow make up for the guilt and anxiety that gnawed at him every second of every day. At least tonight, he’d saved someone. At least tonight, he’d done something right. 

Now, on the ground, with the fire crackling before him, those memories felt closer than ever. Bellamy stared into the flames, his mind drifting to that night and to you.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze lifting to the stars above. Somewhere out there, you were still alive. At least, he hoped you were. He didn’t know why you’d left the camp—what had driven you away—but it didn’t stop him from missing you. From wondering. 

You were startled by the sound of footsteps, then a soft voice above you. “Hey, don’t you want to go to sleep?” 

Looking up, you saw Andria standing there, her expression gentle but curious, a small smile playing on her lips. The firelight danced across her face, illuminating her dark hair and the faint streaks of paint she always wore—a mark of her people, her identity. 

Andria was the first face you’d seen after you left the camp, wandering aimlessly through the woods, unsure of where you were going or what you were even looking for. She had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, cautious but kind. 

Despite your initial hesitation—and hers—it hadn’t taken long for her to extend a hand, guiding you to her village. That had been weeks ago, but the memory of her quiet strength still lingered in your mind. 

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Not yet. Just… thinking.” 

Andria chuckled softly, lowering herself onto the log beside you. “You think a lot,” she said, her tone light but laced with curiosity. “About what?” 

Your eyes flicked to the fire, the orange embers glowing against the darkened sky. “Everything. If I made the right choice. If this is where I’m supposed to be.” 

Andria tilted her head, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Do you think it’s not?” 

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. The village was good to you. They’d welcomed you, even though the start had been rocky. You could still remember the wary glances, the whispers in a language you didn’t yet understand. Some had questioned Andria’s decision to bring you there, an outsider with no tribe and no claim. But slowly, over time, the skepticism had faded. You’d learned their ways, earned their trust. 

Life here was quieter than the chaos of the camp or the ark. It was simpler. And yet, there were moments when your thoughts drifted back to the people you’d left behind, to the firelit nights and familiar voices. 

To him. 

“It’s not that I don’t like it here,” you said finally, your voice soft. “It’s just… sometimes I wonder.” 

“Wonder about what?” 

Your chest tightened. About who, you thought but didn’t say. About Bellamy. About what he’d think if he knew you’d found a life here, one that didn’t include him. 

Andria’s gaze remained steady, and for a moment, it felt like she could see right through you. She had a way of making you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be. 

“You’re allowed to wonder,” she said after a long pause. “That doesn’t mean you don’t belong.” Her tone was firm but kind, the words grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. 

You nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. It had been a long time since you’d felt like you belonged anywhere. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was enough. 

The fire cracked loudly, sending a small shower of sparks into the air. Andria glanced at it briefly before standing, brushing off her hands. “Get some rest,” she said, her voice softening. “Tomorrow’s another day. Plenty of time to think more then.” 

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the thin fabric of your tent, waking you gently. You stretched and rubbed your eyes, only to hear a familiar voice calling your name. 

“Hey, you awake?” 

Caro poked his head inside, grinning widely. He was one of the first grounders to truly warm up to you, his easygoing nature making it impossible not to like him. He was younger than Andria, with an almost boyish charm that reminded you of the friends you once had back on the ark. 

“You want to hunt with me today?” he asked, already holding his bow. 

You smiled and nodded, grabbing your own gear. Hunting was something you were still getting the hang of, but with Caro’s patience—and a fair bit of teasing—you were improving. 

The two of you set off, the village quickly disappearing behind you as you ventured into the dense woods. The ground was soft underfoot, leaves crunching faintly with every step. 

After a time, you noticed Caro’s pace quicken, his movements more purposeful. It wasn’t the usual meandering route he took while tracking. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, curiosity creeping into your voice. 

He turned to you with a grin. “I thought I’d show you my favorite spot,” he said, his tone bright with excitement. “It’s the best place for hunting. I’ve caught rabbits, wild turkeys—oh, and once, I even took down a buck there.” He started rambling about his past hunts, his enthusiasm infectious. 

You followed him, smiling at his stories, until he abruptly halted. He crouched low, scanning the trees ahead, before notching an arrow and shooting into the air with practiced precision. A bird fluttered down a few moments later, and he picked it up with a satisfied smirk. 

“Your turn,” he said, stepping aside to give you room. 

You tried your best to replicate his movements, drawing your bowstring tight and aiming at a bird perched on a branch. But your arrow veered wildly off course, snapping against a tree trunk instead. 

Caro laughed, a loud, carefree sound that made your cheeks burn. “Not bad,” he teased, though his tone was far too amused for your liking. 

Grumbling, you muttered, “You’re scaring away all the animals anyway.” 

He raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Fine, fine. You want to try your luck alone?” 

You nodded. “I’ll meet you back at the fire by sunset.” 

“Deal. Don’t get lost,” he added with a wink before turning to disappear into the trees. 

You rolled your eyes and set off in the opposite direction, determined to catch something on your own. The forest felt different when you were alone—quieter, yet somehow more alive. You could hear the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds, and the faint trickle of a nearby stream. 

It was peaceful. Or at least, it was—until a sudden crackling sound behind you shattered the calm. 

Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun around, your bow instinctively raised. But the sight in front of you stopped you cold. 

Bellamy Blake was standing there. 

Your breath caught. For a moment, you thought you might be imagining him. He looked almost the same as you remembered, though his curls were wilder now, his face bloody, his clothes worn and dirty from life on the ground. His dark eyes locked on yours, wide with surprise. 

You lowered your bow slowly, unable to speak. 

You stared at him, frozen, your breath caught in your throat. Before you could even think of what to say, Bellamy stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you in the tightest hug you’d ever felt. 

Your bow slipped from your hand, clattering to the ground as his arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him. His grip was firm, desperate, like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, fast and erratic, as though he was holding back a flood of emotions. 

Your arms stayed at your sides, too stunned to move, too overwhelmed to react. But as the shock faded, the memories began to surface, crashing over you like waves. 

You remembered the night he didn’t rat you out. How it took three days of gathering your courage to finally approach him, to thank him properly. You’d stammered through your words, but Bellamy had just smirked, brushing it off like it was nothing. 

You remembered how, after that, it felt like fate kept pulling you together. You’d bump into him in the halls, in the cafeteria, even during the rare free moments you thought were yours alone. And then one day, he decided to sit with you at lunch. 

It had started slowly, cautiously. A shared table here, a few exchanged words there. But soon, you were spending almost every moment together. Those lingering glances had become harder to ignore, his dark eyes holding onto yours a little longer each time. And then there were the nights when he’d open up to you, sharing thoughts and secrets he told no one else, trusting you in ways that made your heart ache. 

He’d introduced you to Octavia eventually, his tone cautious, protective, but with a flicker of pride in his eyes. And you’d loved her instantly. 

But then Octavia was discovered. Bellamy had turned to you that night, his face a mask of grief and fury as he stood infront of you. He had hugged you just like this—so tightly you could barely breathe, as though he could shield himself from the pain by holding onto you. 

And now, in this moment, it was the same. The same Bellamy, the same desperate need, the same unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. 

You felt your throat tighten as your hands moved almost involuntarily, slowly wrapping around him. His breath hitched when you returned the embrace, and for a moment, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his curls brushing against your skin. 

“You’re alive,” he whispered, the words trembling with relief. “You’re actually alive.” 

His voice broke something in you. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed him until now. 

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice quiet but steady. “I’m here, Bellamy.” 

For a while, neither of you moved, the forest fading into the background. It was just the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your waist, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I thought—” He broke off, swallowing hard. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, the words feeling inadequate but true. 

His hands gently cupped your cheek, the touch so familiar that it sent a rush of emotions flooding through you. A small, relieved smile curved his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes—there was still that shadow of disbelief in them. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. 

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his touch linger, and fought the urge to crumble. The feeling of his hands on your skin felt like home, like it had always been this way. 

You hated how easily you slipped back into the rhythm of his presence, how it felt like you were ready to drop everything and stay with him, to forget about everything that had changed. 

But no. You couldn’t. You had made your choice. You were different now. 

With a deep breath, you took a small step back, distancing yourself from him, and his hand slowly fell from your cheek, then your waist. 

“Bellamy, you’re hurt,” you said softly, your gaze falling on his face. Blood streaked across his skin, a grim reminder of what he had just endured. 

His expression faltered as if he had only just realized the pain. He blinked, shaking his head slightly as the reality of what had happened seemed to sink in again. 

“The... the grounders attacked us,” he said, his voice distant for a moment, like he was still grappling with everything that had unfolded. 

He met your eyes again, his gaze searching you, as if trying to make sense of everything, trying to understand how you fit into all of this. “How are you alive?” he asked, his voice hoarse. 

You looked away, your heart pounding. The question stung, pulling you back to the harsh reality of why you were here. You reached down and grabbed your bow from the ground, the motion mechanical, something to ground you in the present. 

“I’m staying with...” You hesitated, the words coming out reluctantly, but you had to say them. “...Grounders.” 

Bellamy’s face tightened at the mention of the people who had just attacked his camp. You could see the battle inside him—the conflict between the bitter reality of what had happened and the relief of finding you alive, the person he had risked so much to protect. 

His eyes narrowed slightly as he processed your words, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. “You’re staying with them?” He shook his head, like he couldn’t quite reconcile the idea. “After everything that happened?” 

You understood the confusion in his voice. To him, the grounders were the enemy. They were dangerous. They had attacked his camp, his family. And yet here you were, standing in front of him, alive, having made a life with them. 

But then, as if he realized something, his expression softened just a fraction. Those same grounders, the ones he had been fighting against, had saved you. You could see the internal battle play out in his eyes. 

He wanted to be angry, to demand you come back with him, but there was something else there too—something softer, something that had always been there, despite the wars between them. 

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Will you come back?” 

The question took you completely by surprise. Your mouth opened in shock as you stared at him, unsure if you’d heard him right. “What?” 

“Will you come back?” he repeated, his dark eyes softening, his tone quieter, almost pleading. His gaze lingered on you, taking in your state. He hadn’t expected this reunion, not like this, and yet here you were, standing in front of him, alive, and still so close to his heart. 

You felt torn. You’d spent so long trying to distance yourself from the camp, from the chaos of it all. You had found a place for yourself among the grounders, a place where you could breathe, where you could exist without constantly being on edge. 

But looking at him, seeing the way he was looking at you now, you realized just how deeply you still cared for him, how much a part of you still longed to go back to the life you had once known. 

Bellamy was still watching you, his eyes searching yours for any sign, any hint of an answer. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was ready to reach out to you again, to pull you back into his arms, to make everything right again. 

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat choking your voice. You wanted to say something, anything that would make sense, but your emotions were so tangled, so raw. 

“I...” You hesitated, the words tangled in your throat. “Bellamy, I can’t just... I can’t go back like it’s nothing.” 

He gently cupped your face again, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, grounding you. “I don’t care about any of that,” he whispered. “I care about you. I always have. You’re the one I need, not some camp or some war. Just you.” 

His words broke through the walls you had built around yourself, and in that moment, you realized just how much you had wanted to hear them. The realization hit you like a wave—he hadn’t changed. 

He was still the Bellamy you had once trusted with your life, the same one who had fought for you, who had kept you safe even when the world seemed to be against you. 

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting his words sink in. You could feel his warmth, his presence surrounding you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so lost. 

Maybe you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe things would never go back to the way they were. But in this moment, you knew one thing for sure—Bellamy Blake was still the person you needed, even after all this time. 

Finally, you looked at him again, your eyes meeting his with the certainty you hadn’t felt in so long. “Okay,” you whispered. 

Bellamy’s face broke into a relieved smile, and for the first time since you’d seen him, the tension in his shoulders eased. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t going to be perfect. But maybe, just maybe, you could still find a way to make it work—together. 

And as Bellamy pulled you into another embrace, this one filled with more hope than before, you allowed yourself to finally believe that there was still something worth fighting for. 

[lolitastories]

Endless

Bellamy Blake

Oxygen, never knew it could come with something more beautiful. I would always look through the glass windows of the ship and see how we orbited earth but it was never a thought. You read it in books but it was all different when you got the chance to see it for the first time. The green trees and grass. The colorful flowers and land so long that you don’t see the same thing twice. The sound of a waterfall or birds singing with the wake of the sun. But the thing that imprinted in me was when I felt open air travel through my nose and into my lungs, I was breathless. Ironic, but I was. So as I stand here in the same spot I decided to go down to earth with Raven, I am scared and with so many questions. The only difference now is that I know what is down there and my heart yearns for it. For my friends, for the home I made. It feels hard to breathe. “You okay?” I jumped a little not realizing Raven was standing right beside me.

“Yeah,” I smile looking back into the serene view. “I guess I unconsciously put my guard down since there are only 8 other people here.”

“Yeah,” She bumps into me teasingly. “5 years of not running away from someone trying to kill us,” Weird.

“We just have to worry about surviving.” Thankfully Clarke was right. We made the food we had last until the Algae farm could provide for us. The Oxygen and water was stable too. But up here for 5 years?, it will eventually drive us crazy.

“We will be okay. You have plenty in one person to keep you company.” My eyebrows furrowed as I turned to look at her. “You know who I am talking about.” She playfully bats her eyelashes and swings her hair like she was flirting. “Why thank you Bellamy,” I bit my lip hearing her impression of me. “Thank you for saving us,” My mouth falls open, ready to defend myself but she is quicker and places her hand over my mouth. “With those pretty brown eyes, dark curly hair, and not to mention those muscles,” I groaned, pushing her away.

“Shut up,” I roll my eyes. I hear her laughing, “I thanked the rest too. He wasn’t the only one who made the trip to Becca's lab alone.” To be honest I would have thanked him like that if I had the chance. Of course I would keep the last part to myself. But for him and the rest to risk their life so close to the radiation wave hitting well, they deserve all the thanks. Especially now since their actions got them stuck in the ark again, far away from people they love.

“Yeah but he was the only one who made the trip especially for you.” I kept my mouth shut that time. It would be nice to know he did do it for me, probably would cause my already hyper beating heart to actually run out of my chest. But Bellamy and Clarke were our good friends and down there, we knew we had to do everything to protect ourselves. Emori, Murphy and Echo came along because they thought they didn’t have a chance to stay in the bunker due to past choices. Harper and Monty were nice enough to give them all a ride after they were attacked by some grounders, calling them unlucky.

“You can’t be sure of that,” She stands there with an annoyed expression and her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who slept with him,” Her mouth falls open. “He could be here for you,” I simply shrug and turn to walk away.

“That was a long time ago!” She screams out to me. “Don’t deny it! He likes you and you like him!” I know it was a low blow to bring that up. Raven told me how bad she felt sleeping with Bellamy. She did it out of spite because Finn was too close with Clarke. Raven loved Finn and still does, I know Bellamy and her are only good friends now. I walk down the halls of the Ark, the sounds of groans and hits call out to me. As the common room came into view I saw Echo and Emori training together. Emori had Echo on the floor in an arm lock. I tower over them seeing a pleased look on Emori’s face.

“Want next?” She says jokingly. I am not a bad fighter, I know enough to protect myself but I prefer using other things than fist.

“Why would she need it?-” I looked over at Echo who could barely get her words out. “She has a guard dog,” Emori’s quick chuckle was cut off when Echo uses her legs to push off the ground and twist herself out of Emori’s hold.

“That's right.” Defeated, Emori lays flat on the floor. “Shame to let your knowledge of your guns and our weapons go to waste since you always have him around.” I scoff knowing damn well that Bellamy wasn’t always around, and if he was it was because it was smart for all of us to stick together.

“I will say that she knows all this tech stuff too, like Raven.” I look up toward Echo who for once had a smile on her face. “She’s more brain.” I felt like I needed to say thank you but somehow I was confused because they were unminding me too.

“And his muscles.” Their conjoined laughter made me feel happy. The past 2 months, all I could hear was normal banter since they were irritated with everything. So having someone laugh was a huge change of improvement. “He is over there if you were looking for him.” As I hear Emori stand up from her mat, my head turns to find Bellamy leaning against the window, he was busy looking outside. I flinch a bit feeling someone’s hand land on my shoulder. “Go reel him in for lunch,” I turn, finding a small grin on her face. “Monty made a new version of his soup.” We share the same disgust look but eventually it is replaced with a smile.

“Sounds delicious,” She nods agreeing with my sarcasm. I take a deep breath before making my way over to him. Echo and Emori’s steps have faded meaning they were already out of the room. “Seems like you got a better view here.” Eden looked bigger on this side of the ship. The spectacle of hope was small but one day we would be back.

“I am open to sharing.” Damn. I am truly lost, ain't I? I thought by not looking at his eyes it would be best but by just being near him, he can make my heart race. I turn my head meeting his eyes. Raven hit it spot on when she used the words pretty. Those brown eyes, so pretty. “I haven’t gotten a chance to get you alone,” oh? “In the afternoons you are either trying to fix the radio with Emori or the panel with Raven,” I turned my body towards him as his eyes never left mine. “Spending late nights working,” My heart strings tug with a little bit of sadness. I hadn’t noticed that I have been busy, I just know that if I stopped then I would start thinking. Missing. I didn’t want him or anyone in the ship to think that I was in some way ignoring them. “And in the morning,” Tunnel vision, that is what was happening. It felt like the walls were closing in and I couldn’t focus on anything other than Bellamy. Somehow we ended up only an inch apart, my hand probably couldn’t pass between us. My head tilting up as he towers over me. “Seems like everybody wants your attention too.”

“Too?” A small smile was playing on my lips. Since Bellamy and I have gotten close we became good friends. Friends who occasionally couldn’t stop staring at each other. At first I thought it was because I was closer to age then everybody else. Maybe he found comfort in not being the only adult (ish.). And those lingering stares went to the trash when Gina came into the picture. She was nice and I never had anything against her but when they were together it made me realize it was just me who felt a connection. “If you need to talk-” I freeze. His hands currently moved up to cup my face. His eyes drop towards my lip, “I am always free.”

“Yeah?,” With his hands on my cheeks I felt my face growing warmer than usual. The playfulness in his voice made the little girl in me start jumping. The way his warm breath felt against my skin as he spoke sent shivers down my spine. “I do want to talk.” He nods and it's like I was hypnotized, my head aimlessly copies his movement. “I want to make sure you are okay,” I slightly tilt my head to the side, I got my brain back for a minute. Why would he ask that? “This change has been tough on everybody, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” My hand instantly moved up to cup his hands as he still had his on my face.

“I’m okay,” I say as a whisper. “You?” He nods again with a smile. “It suits you,” He leans forward, resting his forehead on mine.

“What does?”

“Being okay. Your shoulders are no longer tense. Not having to worry about keeping everybody safe,” I close my eyes, loving how he feels close to me. “Being you, it suits you.” Before this the only contact I had with him was a hug or the occasional hand holding. Of course, the cause of those things was because we were happy to see each other, as friends. Or when we were beside each other receiving yet another bad news he would take my hand in his, as friends. If we were anywhere together, I would know because his arm would always graze mine. As friends do, right?

“I had a good reason.” I pull apart a bit to look into his eyes.

“Your sister.” I say plainly.

“Two reasons.” He responded instantly. His eyes felt more intense than a couple minutes ago. The way he looks at me and how his thumb slowly caresses my skin, this was not like friends, right? He was pulling me in and I couldn’t help but want to fall. “This might be stupid since we are stuck here for 5 years but I just have to say it,” He takes a deep breath closing his eyes. “I care for you.” When he opens them I notice his eyes full of doubt. Doubt that I may say I feel the same but caring can mean plenty of things.

“I care for you too.” Mine meant more. A little chuckle escaped his lips. He looked down like I wasn’t getting the point.

“No,” He shakes his head. “I care for you,” He put more emphasis on the word.

“I care-”My words tumbling out in a rush to repeat myself, when suddenly Bellamy’s hands pull us together. His lips brushed against mine. The kiss was gentle, yet insistent, and I felt my words die on his lips. His fingers moved to tangle in my hair making the kiss more intense. I felt a rush of sensation, two hearts beating into one rhythm. But when I returned the kiss it sent my head into a haze. The endless space we were surrounded by seemed miniscule; it didn’t matter to us. My hands slid down his arms and down his waist to pull us closer. He groans as I pull us apart for air. Bellamy’s eyes locked onto mine, his gazing yearning for something. “I care.” I breathe let out. My heart flutters seeing his lips curving upward into a smile.

“Good.” I scoff at hearing his cockiness.

“Such a dick,” I laughed, pushing him off playfully.

“Wait-no.” He stops me from moving by catching me and wrapping his arms around me. He knew I wasn’t mad; we both had a smile. “You didn’t let me finish,” I roll my eyes and until I look into his eyes he continues, “Good, because now I can show you how much more I care.” Okay, the butterflies are back. I caught him before he could lean in and capture my lips again by placing my palm on his forehead.

“You can show me once we eat Monty’s wonderful soup.”

“Ugh,” He throws his head back like a little kid.

“It probably tastes worse than yesterday.” He looks down with a pleading look but I shake my head.

“And like yesterday,” I grab his face and pull him closer, “We are going to be good friends and eat it.” I quickly peck his lips and rush out of his arms. "You coming?” I look back as I walk away leaving him standing by the window.

“Always.”

[lukizzies]

bellamy blake x fem!reader

angst

hi how are u, im here w this again mujejejjee i just feel rlly bad and what better to let it off than by writing!!

so, again, my first language isn’t english!! so if it is like ??? it’s 4 that ok

i love so much this pink letters ;3

࣪ ˖        ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ˖ ࣪ ٬     ࣪ ˖        ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ˖ ࣪ ٬     ࣪ ˖ 

the reality was bad enough and not only because you were one of the hundred that were sent to earth some time ago. but now, with the deaths on mount weather and the non-physical death of one of your best friends, jasper, everything seemed to get worse.

you sighed, sinking your face into your hands. the cold breeze caressed your hands that were slightly bathed by the tears that began to fall from your tired eyes.

you were alone outside the camp, it was dangerous to be alone with all the mess that had formed, but who cared, you needed rest and you didn't feel that burdening your other friends with your problems was a good thing at the moment.

your heart was beginning to clench, the tears were more frequent and you felt your hands trembling. all you wanted was your mom, but she would never be with you again.

"hey..." you heard. it was that warm voice that had been a little cold in the last few days because of its loyalty to the new and, in your opinion, foolish chancellor.

you turned your head to wipe away your tears in a disguised attempt, something that had clearly not been disguised

"fuck off." you spat without looking at him. bellamy blake. the chancellor's new favorite bootlicker. he sighed, sitting down next to you in silence.

you'd been feeling pretty foolish for the past few months, because, aside from the deaths from the first moment you set foot on earth, your heart was foolishly broken.

who knew that a stupid boy who got there with you and ninety-nine other boys would break it in a moment of war.

"go away." you said again. you didn't want him to do it, he had been your support for a while so you foolishly fell in love with him after comforting words, comforting words and nights full of stupid pleasure. but nothing mattered, did it? when from one day to the next he was with gina, it all seemed to disappear and that made you feel ridiculous.

maybe it was the tight grip he had on you when he found you running through the corridors of mount weather.

maybe it was the bright gaze he gave you after he ran over your body with soft kisses.

or maybe it was just the looks you gave each other, the mutual support and affection.

but no, that didn't matter. he didn't give a shit about you and your feelings.

"I told you to leave!" you exclaimed when his hand tried to take yours, causing him to finally just take an empty space where one of your hands used to be.

he murmured your name calmly, guiltily. "I'm sorry." he whispered, looking down at his own hands, which were now playing with each other.

you denied again and again, rising from your seat as the tears threatened to come again. he stood up chasing after you, and though he didn't quite know what to say to you, he didn't want to let you go.

Your lower lip trembled slightly as your gaze quickly wandered everywhere.

"Leave me alone. don't pretend you really give a shit about me." your words were harsh and hurtful, just like his actions.

He spoke your name again. "Don't do this. I'm sorry, I really am."

you denied again, squeezing your eyes shut to let the tears trace their way down your rosy cheeks.

and when you felt his hand on your arm again, you just collapsed. the feelings overwhelmed your entire being, consuming you in pain and sadness that seemed to be endless.

he wrapped you in an embrace in one swift movement, placing his hand on your head to let you know he was there for you.

Your hands clung to his uniform, feeling that by not letting go of him, maybe everything would feel better.

he left a kiss on your forehead, his eyes glistening from the tears he wouldn't let out of his eyes, trying not to make you feel worse somehow.

at that moment it didn't matter how he had made you feel before, he was the only thing you could allow yourself to hold on to that night.

after all, the next day he would be pike's obedient puppy again.

[bellamyblakepositivity]

Endless Bellamy Blake (158/?)

[bellamyblake]

Part 44 of the single!dad Bellamy fic is posted! Here are the people who asked to be tagged (if you want to be removed please let me know): @pendragaryen, @takamurasposts, @star-sky-earth, @blakecholls, @theturquoiseoillady, @sarcasticcommentsetc, @peggysousfan, @whiteoleander, @chickens474; (I’m sorry for taking so long to update!)

(moodboard by @star-sky-earth​​​​):

The next few weeks pass pretty much like that-Bellamy goes to work early in the morning and when he comes back, he picks Clarke up and they both do arounds for the people in Factory or Farm or even Arrow who had contacted Harper and asked for medical help. Then they'd come back home a little after curfew and have dinner together with a half-asleep Gus who always insisted on waiting for them and a very worried Aurora who kept eyeing her son with angry looks whenever he so much as coughed.

Word quickly spread that the former doctor who ran medbay in Factory for a while, the Alpha princess who saved lives, continued doing so and that in turn scared Bellamy because he knew that the more everyone discussed Clarke and her services, the more exposed she was to being possiby caught by the guards and locked up.

But as much as he feared everything, he knew that there was no stopping his princess. She was helping so many-patching up frostbites, saving kid’s lives as well as adults, stitching work wounds or trying to ease the pain of those most unfortunate-people like him who had chronic conditions or those who suffered from incurable diseases and were simply slowly dying out without any medical help whatsoever.

In the short amount of time in which Clarke began helping the people of Factory and Farm, she quickly gained popularity, even more so than before when medbay was opened for everyone to visit her. Some have heard of her before but most of them hadn’t and despite them being a little reluctant to trust her or even ask for help, the moment she stepped in someone’s home, greeted them and took onto fixing the problem, they all fell in love with her.

Bellamy always kept watch. By now he was familiar with most of the guards on rotation in the different stations and passages but he had also taken notice as of when the teams were completely switched up which was the first or second date of each month. He carried a small notebook in which he wrote down the names of the guards that let them through as well as those who patrolled the hallways and soon enough, the more word spread about Clarke and her helping everyone out, the more allies they found.

It wasn’t just Harper now, no-she was assisting her but some nights she went on to Arrow or Factory on her own to deal with the less severe cases or simply kept a book with all of those who needed help in the upcoming days. Bellamy had to assist Clarke too on some occasions when the cases were more severe, even if he was squirmish and could barely look at her when she was giving a shot.

But it was not just the three of them anymore. Monty helped Harper find medicine and since he worked in Factory he also had access to some of the pain relievers like the pot that went for all Alpha residents. He had figured out how to grow it at home, hidden under the floor and lit up by battery lamps so they were using it to help those in their final moments or the patients that were in severe pain.

There were two women who sneaked around antibiotics as they worked in the pharmacy detail in Alpha and got Clarke medicine for the worst cases, the sickest people and Jasper and Maya who worked with Bellamy on level 11, turned out to have a secret brewery of sorts so they supplied them with endless bottles of moonshine for cleaning up the wounds.

They even had a guard who was helping them out-a young boy at about twenty from Farm who always made sure to be the one to let them pass right before curfew. He was a sweet fella called Alex with red hair and freckly face like Bellamy and he had quickly become their friend. Clarke helped his mother who broke her leg in a work incident and could’ve lost it, actually keep it, and he swore to god he’ll be indebted to them for the rest of his lives.

Thanks to Alex they knew when guard rotations were coming in and if some of his coworkers noticed Bellamy and Clarke moving in between stations too often, he was quick to distract them or call them out for someone else he noted as suspicious so that they could cross by safely.

To say that Clarke was happy with what she was doing would be an understatement-she was back in her waters, navigating them exactly as she wanted to despite the difficulties but what really broke her was the lack of access to real medicine or technology that she could use to help people.

As much as she loved this job, Bellamy could say this was also taking a mental toll on her and he was trying his best to take her mind off things. He had made it clear to Harper that the weekend was reserved for resting and they tried to spend it together as a family especially since Bellamy was missing Gus a lot lately with his work and then going out with Clarke in the evening and he was trying to compensate for it. 

His baby boy missed him too and on days off and at night when they were back, he wrapped himself around his dad and didn’t let go. He wouldn’t even want to walk or play around with his friends as long as Bellamy was there and Clarke just loved seeing them like this.

Gus had gotten back to day care after successfully recovering from his frostbite. He had been limping a little even then and Bellamy was reluctant and very scared to let him go which was cute. Gus had been the one consoling his dad when they left him at the gates of the place and promised that he’ll be a good boy, listen carefully and definitely not run around.

The weekends were spent lazily with Clarke usually waking up to Bellamy’s soft kisses on her neck, then lips and his dick pressing into the crack of her ass. They’ve learned very quickly how to be quiet so they don’t wake Gus up but even so, Clarke had trouble keeping all of her emotions in, especially when he always insisted she came first and he had to go through his climax mostly alone which was still the hottest thing she’s ever seen. Then when they were both done they’d get lazy and snuggly in bed. Bellamy liked being held, spooned, got very soft after sex and Clarke found that she liked it as it was the only time he actually let her do something for him-he let all walls collapse, all responsibilites go to hell and it was just him-her beautiful freckly boy.

She got lost in his body herself then-mapped the freckles on his back or shoulders, then moved to his face. She loved most of all climbing on top of him and kissing every part of his body away, giving him all his love. 

Sometimes she got him hard by just grinding a little against him and they had a second round, very close to the time Gus usually woke. Then one morning he caught them with Bellamy in her, surprisingly sneaking out of his bed and pulling at the improvised curtain they hung on at night for privacy as well as to kind of consolidate the warmth around the beds since electricity still stopped at about eleven through the whole night.

In that particular morning it seemed to Gus as if they were just snuggling so of course he wanted in on it too, he jumped in bed just fast enough for them to manage to pull away from each other and pick their underwear up. Later, Bellamy joked that he felt like he sprained his dick and Clarke laughed at him but she knew there was nothing better than having the kid there with them whenever he felt like it.

On a lazy Sunday afternoon after Clarke had managed to convince Bellamy to massage his leg and let him rest as much as he could, Gus has snuggled up for a story after lunch but fell asleep midway on his dad’s arm while Clarke rested her head on her hand, and stared at Bellamy stroking Gus’ hair. 

“He’s growing up too fast.” Bellamy mumbled looking down at him “It was only yesterday he’d pee on me right after I gave him a bath or let me change his diapers.” Clarke cracks a smile at that and runs her hand up and down Gus’ back making the boy push into her on instinct. “Won’t be long before he is a teenager that wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“That’s not true.” Clarke argued stubbornly “This boy loves you more than anyone-you have a special bond.” Bellamy shrugs but she knows that he agrees because he blushes a little. Still, to this time he didn’t think of himself as a good parent, he still constantly beat himself up. “Have you and Gina ever wondered...about...if the Ark allowed more kids, if you’d want one?”

“We did-” he smilled softly, genuinely “We’ve had those conversations. She wanted another boy and I-” he shakes his head.

“What?”

“I wanted at least five kids.” he had admitted a little sheepishly and Clarke gasped.

“Bellamy, no-” she moved up on the pillow to get a better look at him “You didn’t!” but he just nods and shrugs a little.

“I’ve always dreamed of a big family. I wanted Gus to have a sister, I think he’d have made a great big brother.”

“And the others? Don’t tell me you had the names figured out and everything?” he blushes again and she slaps his chest when she realized that she guessed right“Tell me!”

“Well after Gus, there’d be Cassie, short for Cassandra.”

“Poor girl.” he scoffed and furrowed his eyebrows at her.

“You asked for this, princess, now don’t make fun of me.”

“Of course, sorry-” she tried to keep herself from laughing, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes glistening with her typical devilish charm that he knew meant she was absolutely laughing in her head but he just loved her too much to be angry “Cassie, okay, then?”

“Then Rory, after my mom Aurora.” he continues uncurling his fingers from his left hand with his right index one and looking up at the ceiling as if he could all so clearly picture them “Then there’d be Andromeda who we’d call Andy.”

“Dear God, those poor babies.”

“Hey-you’re named Clarke!” he points out “Your parents weren’t exactly ordinary about picking a good Alpha girl name.” she knew he had a point here.

Most Alpha girls had quite the old-fashioned names like Grace, Karen, Edna, Elizabeth and so on which thankfully weren’t what her parents picked for her. Factory and Farm names as well as Arrow were quite unusual, which came with the history of the people who inhabited those stations back on Earth as well as when the Ark became one whole with the decision to unity all stations. She quite loved Bellamy’s name, as well as Aurora and Augustus was just so sweet and fit the kid perfectly. Deep down as much as she was mocking Bellamy in that moment, she quite liked the names he had picked and tried to picture the kids in her head as he spoke about them.

In her mind, she could see Bellamy sitting on a chair by the table with Gus by his side, reading from a book, a girl on his shoulders, another one tucked by his right side and an even smaller one on his left one-they’d all or at least mostly have his curly black hair and freckles except for Andy who’d have light brown hair and Rory who’d bear blue eyes instead of her dad’s brown ones. 

“What about the youngest one?” she asked next, peeking up at him curiously while he kept daydreaming, stroking her head with his hand mindlessly. “The fifth one?”

“Another boy.” he whispers “I’ve always liked the name River.”

“Not greek?” she teases but he shakes his head without a smile.

“I’ve always kind of been fascinated with water when I was a kid studying earth classes. I remember so vividly, when I was a kid how I looked at a picture in one of the books and I saw this small thin river making its way through the strong mountain rocks and I thought how it is a metaphor of life-” he got a little choked up on his feelings in that moment “our life.”

“In Factory.” he nods agreeing with her statement.

“The government makes it hard for us to live but somehow we find ways, we deviate here, find a path there where there was none and somehow we keep on flowing...keep on living.”

“That’s beautiful, Bellamy.” he had stared into her eyes then and spent a moment losing himself in her blue ocean, after which he shook his head as if to get rid of his dreams that were never possible and leaned down to kiss her forehead “Anyway, none of this will ever happen.”

“Maybe not for you or us...but one day for Gus? Or for his children perhaps? We don’t know when Earth will be survivable again but maybe they can have your little family.”

He smiles and pulls her closer to his chest.

“I won’t envy them. I don’t think life down there will be any less harder than it is up here. Especially if we keep that government.”

Clarke liked those conversations in the dark they had when the place was all quiet, Gus was asleep or mumbling little dreams under his nose about chasing a dog or playing with Jordan that made them laugh-it felt to her as if a smaller universe existed within theirs, one in which no one could ever hurt them, when they were together and everything was just good and warm and...soft.

Because they were so soft when they were entangled in one another and Clarke just needed him in her before she fell asleep, that became a habit of theirs.

But she knew all too well that things weren’t all rosy, that life wasn’t a fairty tale or a story or a daydream they could discuss in each other’s arms at night. Bellamy often woke up from the shapr pain in his leg-that is what brought her back to reality faster than anything else. Some nights it was so bad, all he could do was curl up on himself and let her spoon him or pull him to her chest and rock him like he did Gus.

She’d move up, go to the bathroom, drench some bandages in cold water or use whatever she had left of the special paste against swelling to plop over his knee and back before wrapping him up and propping his joints on pillows.

Still, he couldn’t sleep well and she’d often just sit up and talk to him or go do laundry by the sink while he moved to the table chair and tried to find a position that didn’t make him feel entrirely trapped as it often happened in bed.

It was similar when she was suffering from her own nightmares or terrors. She’d wake up gasping in his arms, sometimes outright yelling, waking even Gus up with her desperate screams, calling Jackson’s name and shaking. Bellamy would hold her hands to his chest, make her count his heart beats, breathe with him but sometimes when it was too extreme, he’d take her to the bathroom and dip her in some cold water to bring her back to him since he had no other way of helping her.

After, he’d strip her of all clothes and hold her to his body until she warmed up enough to be able to move. And when she did, she’d either pass out from the exhaustion or need to kiss him, hold him, even fuck him which he didn’t mind but he knew that this sex was different from the other times-it was love born out of need and softness and the desperation to feel something and in those moments he was often slow, very slow in pushing into her, gentle and sweet as he kissed her everywhere, sucked her breast, her neck her entire body.

He wouldn’t even cum those nights, he said he didn’t have to or that he could take care of it himself in the morning and in those times, her heart felt with love and warmth for her man who always put himself first. 

She could see work was taking its toll on him and that Aurora kept giving him the cold shoulder when it came to that but even she couldn’t deny that they were doing better especially in terms of food.

In just a week Gus had gained back the weight he lost after the frost bite. Bellamy was bringing in lots of fruit and vegitables as well as bread, meat and even eggs that Gus seemed to love. The kid was for once eating healthy and good and so were they. Bellamy was still rationing in his stupid 'I-have-to-be-the-responsible-dad' way, he barely touched his plate while he gave Clarke dirty looks trying to make her finish hers. 

That’s how she came up with the plan to prepare one whole bigger plate for the two of them and push him to eat his half while she finished hers and in a way it worked. When her fingers ghosted over his stomach at night, she still found it flat but not sunk on him and though she could feel his ribs, he was feeling less dizzy in the morning and she knew part of that was because he ate.

He had mentioned they forced them to have lunch at work too, so they could be the most productive but she still had no idea what was it they worked on exactly. She had heard her father talk about Level 11 and how they wanted to recover the engines there after the big fire from over three years ago but she also remembered her mom mentioning that the environment is unhealthy. Still, whenever she pushed him about it, he shook his head and shrugged it off saying he can’t really talk about it and though it made her angry she was trying to pick her battles.

Despite his reluctance and even flat out disagreement when it came to her practicing medicine in secrecy, his support never wavered. He came with her every evening, even when he was extremely tired, coughed a lot and barely walked. She had often tried to argue with him when she saw him coming home before they had to leave in the span of barely five minutes.

He was so tired that the only thing she wanted to do was push him in bed and command him not to move, tie him up if she had to but he always insisted and cut her protests off with a single glance-”No way I’m leaving you alone, princess. Ever.” and she wanted to cry when he said that. 

Harper had gotten her more than one fake ID and they carefully switched them up so she wouldn’t raise suspicion but on a couple of occassions when there were surprising guard rotations and Alex wasn’t the one on call, Bellamy had had to use his charm as well as his work ID card for them to pass through.

Though she had worked as a medic and a doctor before, even for the brief time in Factory, things now felt...much more personal. They were going into people’s homes and she could see truly how horrible everyone’s living conditions were.

On occassions, like the one time they visited one of the older mechanics from Factory who Bellamy knew by name of course and respected as his elder, the first person who showed him how to fix an engine and work mechanics, they found themselves in a room which was literally two by two. Henry had a small cot and a little metal table with a chair pressed opposite of it. All his clothes that were so meager were hung on a little hanger on the wall, he had one pair of boots, a photo of his diseased wife who died in Farm after working the gardens for many years and after his kid left home too he was moved here.

It was more of a closet than a living place really and with his broken leg he was barely making it up as it was without hitting another part of his body. Then there were families of three living in the same conditions with all of them huddling on the small cot or outright living on the floor on matresses and pilled up holey blankets. Some didn’t even have a table but used chairs or old metal drawers as such. 

“See, I think that we can call ourselves lucky with our one room and our own bathroom instead of a common one.” Bellamy had said on their way back when Clarke was so stunned she couldn’t talk.

And yet everyone met her with warm smiles and tight hand-squeezes. She realized for them she was a beacon of hope, a ray of sunshine from a star they’ve never seen but only imagined, a dream, a myth, for some perhaps, a saint.

They couldn’t pay them in any way and though Clarke insisted she doesn’t charge, they still shoved cans of beans in her or Bellamy’s hands, mashed potatoes, green peas or small pieces of cloth they knew could be used to mend something. Clarke refused to take them especially when the families were so poor they couldn’t even afford medicine but some were stubborn and said if she didn’t, they’d be offended.

“They don’t want you to see them as a charity case” Bellamy had explained “Those are people with their own pride and dignity and even if they don’t eat anything tonight, they’ll give you the little they have to pay you for what you’ve done for them.”

“But I don’t want them to starve!” she had opposed somewhat desperately and he had smilled, leaning on his newly fashioned metal cane that he had made himself with her help on a slower Sunday afternoon.

“Oh, princess, it’s not about that.” he tries to explain despite her angry stubborn frown that he just wants to kiss away “This is how we do things around here. We trade to survive, we give each other the smallest of presents to bring joy and those people...they skip meals daily, so this is nothing new for them. They give you this can of corn because they have pride, they have dignity and they know they’re not lesser than any Alpha citizent or the chancellor but also...they are different because they have good in them.” he smiles at her “Despite the tough times, they are good.”

Clarke stares down at the can in her hand but finally sighs and nods in agreement.

“Okay.” she says “But I still feel bad.”

“Don’t. And anyway, I’ll make sure they have something to eat tomorrow, okay?” he had promised as he kept on limping back home and she looked at him confused before rushing back after him.

“How? What do you mean?” Bellamy stops and leans on the wall, picking up a small notebook from his jumper’s front pocket which she knew he used for work or to make notes of things they needed so he could get the money to buy them but now he turns on a page where she sees his big block letters denoting the names of people and families “I keep track.” he says “To those we’ve helped and then I talk to Monty and Harper or Jasper and Maya and some of the other people I know around here.” he tucks it back in and zips his pocket before he keeps on “Next morning the Jameses will wake to a bag of rice and a few bean cans by their door step, don’t you worry.”

“But....but how?” she asks confused “Where do you get that from? How do you guys do this?”

Bellamy smiles again and keeps on walking.

“I’m not just your guardian, princess. I can’t simply sit outside and do nothing, I had to find a way to help too.”

“But-” she shook her head completely stunned. Some days, despite his good job now, they still couldn’t afford much so what was he doing? How was he getting people what they needed? Unless-”Are you spending your own ration points on others?” he avoids her look but she grabs his elbow and forces him to look at her “Bellamy-”

“Hey, I know what I’m doing, alright?” he insists “Plus, I can’t spend more than a few cans of beans or corn. Monty helps some with the rest.”

“The rest?”

“He has access to the storages.” Bellamy whispers when a few people pass them by and he fastens his step “He can grab a few ounces of flour here, some potatoes there, not much but enough for those people.”

Clarke’s heart fills with warmth again-here was her beautiful, intelligent, kind and yes, sometimes stubborn man, trying to find ways to help those less fortunate than him even though he himself couldn’t be considered even middle class by any Ark or Alpha standards. He was giving some of his own to help others, maybe that was why he still rationed his own food and picked at his plate and as angry as that made her for he was putting as always himself behind, she couldn’t help but just...love him.

When she stops abruptly and throws herself in his arms, he is so surprised he doesn’t hug her right away, unable to take his hand off his his crutch and keep his balance.

“Hey, easy there, princess-” he laughs a little in her ear “We’ll both end up on the ground.” she shakes her head and buries herself in his chest for a moment, letting him rub his hand up and down her back soothingly and kiss her hair “It’s okay, princess, it’s all fine. It’s not just me.”

“Don’t undermine your efforts.” she whispers, making his chest reverbarate for once instead of him filling her being with love and warmth “We started this because of me. You insisted you kept me company, not that you’d...start a Robin Hood initiative.” Bellamy scoffs at the comparison.

“Robin Hood? Princess...please find a better hero out there.”

“Batman?”

“You’re the Clarke from the two of us, doc.” he points out and she pulls away, cupping his face in her hands and moving up for a deep kiss. He kisses her back just as warm and hot as she was and when she pulls back and stares in his eyes he kisses her nose like he loved doing, always saying he finds her to be too adorable for his heart to handle.

He had two kiddos, he said-Gus and her and both of them were as equally grumpy in the morning, making his life harder. 

“You are my hero, Bellamy.” she says then, fanning his face with her breath as she tucked his curls behind his ear. His hair had grown out in the past few weeks again and she needed to give him another haircut, hopefully a little more professional than the last one which made his head look uneven “There’s no other like you.”

“Come on now-”

“I’m being serious.” she insists, making her voice serious trying to force his stupid thick head to understand what he means to her “You have saved me-”

“We’ve talked about this, I don’t want to go back to that day.” he argues and she knows what he means and that yes, they have indeed talked about it.

“I don’t mean just the bombs, I mean...in general. You  have helped me so much without even realizing it and you had given so much of yourself out to others too.” he blushes and looks down a little uncomfortable like he and Gus always did whenever someone praised them. Her hand slid to his chest with ease and she smiled at him “Your heart is so big, Bellamy,”

“Clarke, come on, that’s not true.”

“Yes it is, don’t do that.” she scolds him mildly “Don’t try to shake your head and shut me down-I want you to know this because I don’t think you do-” she looks into his eyes again “You matter, Bellamy.” she says soft but serious “You matter so much more than you can possibly imagine.”

“Clarke-”

“And you forget that you can put yourself first sometimes too.” she continues, not letting him interrupt her “I know Gus comes before you, always, but you...you have to remember that you are important as well. You can take time to rest, to heal, to feel broken, to recover, okay?” he sighs, shakes his head still disagreeing with her but she picks him up and digs her nails into his cheeks to prove her point again “Please...I know it’s hard for you, but you have to try and do this for me, alright?”

He scoffs and while his hands remain on her back and he presses his forehead against her, he doesn’t seem to have let her words sink, which in turn makes her mad.

“You’re wrong.” he whispers “I never saved you-” he continues, this time being the faster one of the two of them so she fails to interrupt him “You saved yourself, Clarke. I think you always have even before we met and that is why we fit together-you see beyond what I am...what we all are and you bear hope not just for me but for everyone that things could get better.” he presses his lips against hers and rubs the back of her neck “You are a light in my life, Clarke.”

This time she disagrees with a scoff but he silences her with a kiss and urges her to go on.

That is how most of their nights went on-they talked a lot on the way back, discussed ideas, ways to help people, made mental lists for supplies or how they could get this medicine or that one for some of her patients.

And as much as Bellamy refused to admit it out of fear that he’d jinx it, things were mostly going well-yes, they were working their asses off, yes, he barely slept because of the pain in his leg at night and Gus missed him too much he clung on him like a koala bear and yes work on level 11 was hard. He had another vent to fix this week with the help of Jasper and Maya again and all three of them passed out from the lack of oxygen and ended up in the small medbay with once again Abby Griffin angrily scoffing and moving around their cots, pushing masks on their faces and treatening them not to move.

She still avoided his look but he knew she was itching to ask for Clarke yet she never did-she treated him as coldly and calmly as she did the others and yelled at him for not taking any care of his leg or back but one time when Clarke’s bandages from the night before had stayed on him and he had to strip for the mandatory examination they had every week, he noticed her fingers ghosted over them and she knew that this was done by her and it was her way of touching something her daughter did.

He had seen Wells and Jake once too. They came to inspect the progress of their work on a surprise visit that sent poor Sinclair into a sweating fit with his cheeks red and his hair a mess. Bellamy had smiled as he kept on working his vent with Jasper whose hands shook when he realized what was happening-even the Alpha councilmen and best mechanics were subjected to inspections.

Wells was wearing his typical Commanding Guard’s uniform looking cold and stern. He only ever glanced at Bellamy once but he couldn’t make out his face from under the mask both him and Jake wore at all times inside like the rest of them.

Jake didn’t stop staring at him, though-Bellamy swore he could feel his eyes pinned on his neck the entire time and that in turn made him sweat about as much as Sinclair had. 

When they were lined up before the three of them-Wells, Jake and Sinclair and their boss was explaining their best qualities and how much each has helped in restoring the Level, Jake was smiling and nodding eagerly while Wells remained a dark cloud with furrowed eyebrows and his arms crossed behind his back, reminding Bellamy so much of Morgan, as if any second he’d take out his baton and beat him up in the middle of the room for everyone to see.

Wells didn’t seem impressed at all, he kept prodding Sinclair with different questions and finally before they left, he said that with the time and resources that the Ark was lending them, they should’ve done better by now and that the chancellor expects results sooner rather than later while Jake mumbled something in Sinclair’s ear and patted his shoulder which Bellamy took as a good sign.

When they were leaving work that day, Wells and Jake were still outside talking over plans and logistics with Sinclair so when Bellamy was coming out of the locker rooms, he heard Clarke’s father make an excuse and rush after him, but only when they’ve turned around the corner towards the elevator that would send him back to Factory, to his home.

Bellamy had stopped, leaning heavily on the wall when Jake stood in his way.

“Is she okay?” he had asked cutting right through the chase which Bellamy liked. The man probably knew they didn’t have that much time to spare, with Wells coming in to leave soon as well.

“She’s fine.” Bellamy assures with a small smile recognizing a concerned father when he saw one.

“Is she healthy? Are you guys okay? We heard of the engines getting broken and the night you spent without electricity.”

“She was a little shaken, but she’s fine, I promise. I’m taking care of her.” Jake relaxed at that a little and clasped his arm.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want me to tell her something?” Bellamy asked and Jake thought about it for a moment before finally shaking his head and sighing.

“It’s too dangerous now and maybe it’s better for her if she doesn’t know about any of this. When some time passes I’ll find a way to contact you.” Bellamy agreed and though he felt bad that he’d go home that night and not be able to tell her that her father was out there asking if she’s alright, he agreed with Jake-some time had to pass for things to be safe so they could perhaps even see each other.

He knew that Clarke missed her father very much. Often times when he was playing with Gus or holding him, there was a different glint in her eyes-one that wasn’t her being hot for him or wanting to kiss him and strip him of his clothes but instead something nostlagic, sad. He knew she was thinking of her dad holding her the same way, talking to her, loving her like he did Gus and she missed him dearly. She had always been a daddy’s girl, he knew that, she had admitted as much so no matter how good he was trying to do at giving her a home and a family, he could never replace her father. 

[hd-junglebook]

Neutral 8

This part may suck BUT I am slowly trying to get back into the story so skim through this and don't be mean.

You stared up at the endless blue sky, watching the clouds slowly drift by as the earth continued its endless orbit. The faint smell of burning metal filled your nose as a gentle breeze ruffled your hair. ‘I wonder if they'll ever find us down here,’ you thought, your hopes fading with each passing minute.

Around you, the search party members shouted to one another, their voices echoing off the mountainsides as they frantically pushed aside debris.

‘She can’t be dead. She hated me but she would never leave me like this. Why did I have to try to prove myself? Please come back...please,’ you silently pleaded, even as your weary body begged for rest.

Clarke mirrored your determined attitude, the dark circles on her face were more prominent in the bright sun while she meticulously scoured the debris strewn across the mountain.

Every step brought you closer to Clarke, her gaze fixed on some viscous liquid oozing from a ruptured container amidst the rubble.  

"Clarke," you called out softly, she turned to face you reluctantly meeting your gaze. "What’s wrong?" you asked, your curiosity piqued by the sight before you.

Without a word, Clarke gestured toward the oozing liquid, her expression troubled. You followed her gaze, crouching down as you took in the scene before you. The pink liquid dripping to the ground, its pungent odor assaulted your senses, causing you to recoil instinctively.

Suddenly, Clarke's voice shattered the tense silence, her cry of "Oh!" echoing through the desolate landscape.  Raven reacted swiftly, sprinting up the slope to join you both.

Her eyes were wide with concern as she assessed the situation, her sharp mind already racing to decipher the cause of Clarke's distress.

"Y/n, stop! Get away from there" Raven shouted as she reached your side. You both turned to Raven, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "Rocket fuel?" Clarke questioned.

Raven nodded grimly, her features drawn tight with concern. "Hydrazine... Highly unstable in its non-solid form. If this stuff meets fire, we're all pink mist."

“Suddenly I don’t think that would be too bad.” You started, recovering from your crouched position beside Clarke. She shot you a sideways glance. "Are you serious?" Raven huffed with disbelief as she struggled to comprehend your words.

"Watch this," Raven declared as she reached for a nearby object. “Fire in the hole!” You and Clarke ducked for cover as Raven hurled it toward the pink liquid with a swift toss, the impact causing a small explosion that sent debris flying in all directions.

The explosion was deafening, and the heat was intense, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as the rocket fuel burned away.

Bellamy's commanding voice reached your ears, “We move in formation, no straggling, weapons hot. We've got to get back before dark," he bellowed like a clarion call to action.

Without hesitation, the group began to fall in line, their movements synchronized and purposeful as they prepared to venture back into the woods. You remained rooted to the spot for a moment longer, your eyes scanning the debris-strewn landscape one final time.

As you lingered amidst the wreckage, lost in thought, you felt a presence at your side. Bellamy had come up beside you, "that means you too, Hestia," he remarked, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of affection.

You couldn't help but smile at the nickname. "Just taking one last look," you replied, turning to face him. His soft eyes met yours, filled with warmth.

"We'll find her," he said, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. "But not if you work yourself to exhaustion. Come on, let's head back." You nodded, allowing him to guide you away from the wreckage.

His hand dropped to the small of your back. He was right - you had been pushing yourself too hard. But you wouldn't stop looking until your mother was found.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you silently made that promise once more. Bellamy's hand pressed more firmly against you, as if he had heard your unspoken words.

…

Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you pushed your way through the throng of people. The air hung heavy with the oppressive heat of the sun, the stench of sweat and dirt permeating your nostrils. Bellamy walked ahead of the group, shoulders tense and his head held high while the rest of the group trailed behind.

 As you approached the gate, the commotion grew louder, the voices rising in pitch with each step you took. The gate creaked open with a deafening squeal, and Octavia emerged, her eyes wide with fear.

She swallowed thickly before rushing forward, “Bellamy...” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.

You pushed your way towards the front where Clarke and Bellamy stood, “Octavia whats wrong?” you demanded. The three of you shared a look as everyone waited for her to speak. “We found something bell. Its in the dropship.”  

With that, Octavia turned and headed back inside, guiding the three of you into the ship. The camp's stragglers dispersed around the perimeter, their voices fading into the distance. You followed closely behind Octavia as she ascended the metal ramp, the sound of her heavy footsteps echoing through the cavernous interior.

Once you reached the top, Octavia pushed back the plastic tarp covering the entrance, your breath caught in your throat at the sight that met your eyes.

John Murphy lay slumped against a wall, his once-blond hair matted with dried blood. His eyes were closed, his face covered in an excessive amount of cuts and dirt.

You and Octavia exchanged a grim look. Murphy had always been a thorn in everyone's side, but he didn't deserve this. “Everyone but Connor and Derek out... Now!" Bellamy emphasized

"We caught him trying to sneak back into camp," Connor stated, his voice low but firm, eyes narrowed as he assessed Murphy's reaction.

Murphy's jaw clenched, his gaze flickering briefly towards Bellamy before returning to Connor. "I wasn't sneaking," he retorted, his tone sharp with frustration. "I was running from the Grounders."

Bellamy, arms crossed over his chest, stepped forward, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "Anyone see Grounders?" he questioned, his voice a blend of skepticism and curiosity.

Connor shook his head, his eyes darting around the cramped space of the dropship as if searching for any sign of the elusive enemy.

"Well, in that case--" Bellamy began, lifting his rifle at Murphy before you began to panic, placing yourself between Bellamy and Murphy.

Your gaze flickered nervously between the two men, uncertainty clouding your features as you struggled to find the words to intervene.

Murphy's fate hung in the balance, and though you knew his actions had been reckless and foolish, there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind urging you to spare him.

"Wait," you interjected, your hands trembled at your sides, fingers curling into fists as you searched desperately for a reason, any reason, to convince Bellamy to show mercy. Bellamy's gaze softened slightly; his expression thoughtful as he considered your words.

"We were clear what would happen if he came back," Bellamy reiterated, his tone firm, uncompromising.

You took a shaky breath, summoning all your courage as you spoke, your voice steadier now, but still laced with uncertainty. "We... we don't know the full story," you ventured, your words hesitant but earnest. "Maybe... maybe there's more to it than we realize."

Clarke's voice sliced through the tension that had settled over the group like a sharp blade. "No," she declared, Clarke stood tall, her stance resolute, her eyes locking with Bellamy's in a silent challenge. "Y/n is right."

The soft glow of the flickering firelight illuminated her features, casting a warm, golden hue across her determined expression.

Bellamy's jaw tensed, his gaze bore into hers, as he bristled at Clarke's assertion. "Like hell he is," he retorted, his tone laced with frustration. "Clarke, think about Charlotte."

You couldn't stay silent, not when the memory of Wells's death still lingered like a specter in the shadows of their minds. "We are thinking about Charlotte," you interjected, your voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with a bitter edge. "Or did you forget what she did to Wells?"

Clarke knelt down beside him, her fingers grasping Murphys hand, she flexed It back and forth. “He's not lying,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “His fingernails were torn off. They tortured him."

Bellamy hesitated, torn between his sense of duty and the gnawing doubt that tugged at his conscience. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he relented, his shoulders slumping in reluctant agreement.

"Fine," he conceded, his voice heavy with resignation. "But if this goes wrong, it's on you." His gaze flickered toward Murphy, lingering for a moment before shifting back to Clarke and you.

…

“You need to practice shooting, Y/n. After yesterday, we can’t take any more chances with these grounders,” Bellamy insisted.

“And what if I don’t want to?” you challenged, a hint of defiance in your voice.

“I wasn’t giving you a choice,” he replied back just as fast, his words leaving no room for argument. You hid your giddy smile behind your hand as you followed Bellamy and the group to the makeshift shooting practice area.

Miller and Monroe lined up the empty ration cans, preparing for the practice. Clarke strutted over to join the group, picking up a gun and readying herself for the competition.

Sensing the competitive energy in the air, you accepted the challenge without a thought.

"On the count of three, I want you guys to start," Bellamy announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. You nodded in reply, feeling the weight of the rifle against your shoulder as you lined up your shot.

“One, two... three,” Bellamy counted, and with precision, you fired at the first tin. It flew back off the log with a satisfying thud to the ground.

Swiftly, you moved on to the next target, hearing Clarke finish her second shot. You took aim at the third can, your senses heightened as adrenaline surged through your veins.

Two shots sounded in quick succession, echoing through the clearing. Both you and Clarke hit the targets with pristine accuracy. The group cheered in approval. “Who needs men when you have us?” You joked to Clarke, gaining a big smile from her for the first time today.

shouts and cries rang out from the perimeter. "Clarke! Where's Clarke?" Connor's voice, hoarse with desperation, his words punctuated by fits of coughing. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

Clarke's brow furrowed in concern as she moved towards his voice, "Connor?"

"It won't stop," Connor's voice drifted through the air, strained and ragged, each word punctuated by the gut-wrenching sound of his coughs.

"Clarke! What's happening?" Raven's voice joined the chorus of cries, her tone frantic with worry. Your breath caught in your throat as you witnessed the sight that greeted Clarke's eyes.

Horror washed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf you in its icy grip. "Oh, my God, Clarke, your eyes," you gasped, the words tumbling from your lips in a hushed whisper.

You moved instinctively to approach her, to offer whatever comfort and support you could in the face of such a devastating revelation. But Clarke's hand shot out, a silent barrier that pushed you and Raven away with unexpected force.

Her eyes, once bright and vibrant, now held a haunted emptiness that sent a shiver down your spine. The color seemed to have drained from them, leaving behind only a dull, lifeless gaze that spoke volumes of the horrors she had witnessed.

…

Clarke's hurried footsteps echoed against the metal floor of the dropship as she entered, her senses on high alert, her eyes scanning the room with an intensity that made your heart race. You followed closely behind, the weight of worry pressing down on you like a leaden cloak.

Murphy's presence loomed in the corner of the room, his figure tense and apprehensive as he attempted to blend into the shadows, a futile effort to evade Clarke's keen gaze. The air crackled with tension as she approached him.

"Murphy, hey, look at me," Clarke's voice was soft yet firm, cutting through the silence like a knife. She reached out, her hand gently gripping his shoulder as she sought to anchor him in the midst of his mounting panic.

Murphy's gaze flickered nervously, his muscles tensing beneath her touch as he met her unwavering stare. "I need you to tell me exactly how you escaped from the Grounders," Clarke continued, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within her. "What happened?"

Murphy swallowed hard, shifting his weight uneasily. "I don't know," he admitted, his words coming out in a rush as if he were desperate to convince her of his innocence. "I woke up, and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there, so I took off."

Clarke's brow furrowed in confusion, a hint of skepticism creeping into her expression as she processed Murphy's explanation. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to shift and blur before her eyes, leaving her grasping at fragments of truth in a sea of uncertainty.

"Bellamy, stay back," you urged, your voice tinged with urgency as you moved to position yourself between him and the infected. Bellamy's brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze flickering between you and Murphy as he struggled to make sense of the situation. "Did he do something to you?" he questioned, gripping the rifle tighter in his hands.

You shook your head. "What the hell is this?" Bellamy demanded, his tone edged with frustration as he glared at Clarke, searching for answers in the depths of her haunted gaze.

"Biological warfare," Clarke stated, wiping her hands down her face in distress. “You were waiting for the Grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it. Murphy is the weapon." Bellamy's eyes widened in disbelief, the realization seemed to hit him like a physical blow, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Clarke's revelation settled over the dropship like a suffocating blanket, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuated only by the sound of their ragged breathing.

Suddenly, the world seemed to blur around you, the edges of your vision blurring as if obscured by a thick fog. Your senses swam in a dizzying whirlpool, the world tilting precariously on its axis as you struggled to maintain your balance.

A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, tracing a path down your flushed cheeks as the heat of the moment pressed in upon you like a tangible force. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale.

With trembling limbs, you moved away from the group, climbing the narrow ladder of the dropship's interior. Your breath came in ragged gasps, the air thin and suffocating as you ascended to the third floor. Finally reaching the top, you stumbled into the cramped space of the third floor, the dim light casting long shadows across the metal floor.

Alone at last, the tears flowing freely from your eyes as you collapsed to the floor. Your knees cracked uncomfortably beneath the weight of your body. The tears mingled with the blood that trickled from your eyes.

you let out a choked sob, the sound echoing in the empty space around you. The tears continued to fall, unchecked and unbidden, as you surrendered to the overwhelming despair that threatened to engulf you.

"Will you stop crying?" it scoffed, dripping with disdain. Your eyes snapped open, scanning the empty expanse of the room in search of the face behind the voice.

But there was nobody there, just the echo of the words hanging in the air like a ghostly whisper. Confusion clouded your thoughts as you shook your head, trying to dispel the illusion that had taken hold of your mind.

A sudden weight settled on your shoulder, causing you to gasp in surprise. A hand, firm yet comforting, pressed against your trembling form.

Slowly, you turned your head, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to face the unknown presence behind you. And there, standing before you, was Diana Sydney, your mother.

The sight of her sent a jolt of shock through your system. Her hair was no longer the blonde that you once envied, once a shimmering cascade of blonde, was now charred and matted, wisps of smoke still clinging to the strands.

And her skin, once flawless and porcelain, was marred by angry red burns accompanied by the smell of char.

“Mom.” you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out tentatively, as if afraid she would vanish into thin air at the slightest touch. For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the silence between you heavy with unspoken emotions.

The sudden sharpness of the voice shattered the fragile moment like glass, snapping you back to reality. "Do you ever shut up, y/n?"

"No," you replied. "I don't."

[roguebeautyqueen]

my endless list of otps | (3/♾️)

bellamy blake and clarke griffin from the 100

“together? together.”

[acronym-chaos]

Ship Captain ID Pack

[PT: Ship Captain ID Pack].

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Names

[PT: Names].

Alden, Anchor, Aquila, Ashby, Barnacle, Beck, Bellamy, Bilge, Brine, Calder, Caspian, Cormac, Cutter, Delmar, Dorian, Drift, Duncan, Elara, Eldoris, Eulalie, Farron, Fjord, Gale, Gulliver, Harbor, Helm, Horizon, Isla, Kaelan, Keel, Leif, Linden, Lorelei, Marina, Mariner, Maris, Marius, Marlowe, Nautica, Oceane, Oceanus, Orla, Paloma, Quillan, Roderick, Thaddeus, Ursula, Wade

Pronouns

[PT: Pronouns].

Anch / Anchor / Anchors, Compass / Compass' / Compass', Curr / Current / Currents, De / Deck / Decks, Fleet / Fleets / Fleets, Horizon / Horizons / Horizons, Ke / Keel / Keels, Ma / Mast / Masts, No / North / Norths, Po / Por / Port, Sai / Sail / Sails, Se / Sea / Seas, Ti / Tide / Tidal, Wa / Wav / Wave, Wi / Win / Winds

Titles

[PT: Titles].

A Captain Who Commands the Waves, The Captain of the Endless Voyage, The Navigator of the Sea, The One Who Conquers the Ocean, The One Who Sails with the Wind, The Sailor of the Endless Sea, The Seafarer Who Looks for the Horizon, The Storm Chaser, The Voyager of the Open Sea, [Pronoun] Who Steers the Ship Through the Storms, [Pronouns] Who Follows the Ocean Winds

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom, End ID].

Requested by @cloverpilled!

Also tagging: @id-pack-archive

[justinewt]

Stir Up a Hornet's Nest - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Thirty-Seven

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Summary: They had found out who was on this ship, and who was down there, so it was time to try to get back to the ground, and get their own people out of that bunker.

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: The 100 season 5 spoilers (second half of episode 3 "Sleeping giants"; episode 4 "Pandora's box")

“Not too long ago, I’d have thought this was magic.” Echo declared as she stared at the cryo coffins along the walls of the room. 300 people were in those, minus one. They all stood there, just looking. They needed to figure out how to deal with this, before those criminals woke up, because they were actual criminals, nothing like the 100 teenagers that had been sent down to the ground years ago. As she thought about it, it hit Michelle in the face just how long it had really been. How long her mother had been dead for, and how long she had spent separated from her dad. She felt her heart ache and she quickly swept those depressing thoughts aside.

“Any advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Raven said, as she studied the panel of one of the cryo coffin. This one was open, so it was easy to suppose or guess that it was that of their aggressor.

“How long can they live like this?” Bellamy had taken the words out of Michelle’s mouth as her lips parted slightly.

“Technically? Forever.”

“Or we can kill them all right now.” Murphy barged in, walking with a determined step and Michelle shot up her eyebrows. She didn’t completely disagree with him. They could just get rid of all those dangerous criminals before they even became somewhat of a threat. As he walked up to them, he glanced at Michelle standing with one hand on her lower back and Bellamy with his tumefied face.

“One of them woke up.” Echo replied, with her split lip.

“Question is how.”

“No, the question is what the hell are we waiting for?” Murphy cut him off. “I’m serious, ok. We’re all gassed up. Let’s pull the plug on this sleeping army and go home.”

“I agree.” Michelle added, crossing her arms over her chest. “If we wait, they’ll just wake up, and either fucking kill us or join this Diyoza down there and still kill all of us.”

“That’s not an option. Kill thiers, they kill ours.” Bellamy contradicted. “Raven?”

“The pods are all jacked into the mainframe. I’m guessing they activated this one remotely from the ground, probably in response to us tripping their alarm.”

“When he doesn’t check in, they’ll wake more of them.”

“I’d say that’s a good bet.” Raven exchanged a glance with Echo and turned, looking down at the endless room.

“So we should do something before that happens, at least get the hell out.” Michelle concluded, supported in her proposition by Murphy and his want to get the hell out of there as well. They were seemingly on the same wavelength at the moment, looking at each other. Michelle thought it a little weird how he quickly broke eye contact for no reason, and she looked over her shoulder at Bellamy, staring at Murphy. She sometimes forgot how their exchanges could look from his perspective and given that they were exes. His brows were a little furrowed. She put a hand on his back, softly moving the tips of her fingers around.

“Bellamy, you know what happens when these guys get to the ground.” They turned their heads to Echo. “Murphy and Michelle aren’t wrong. This is an army.” He thought, frowning harder, looking down, conflicted. “I know how you feel, but it took four of us to take out one of them. Giving them reinforcements when we can stop it is a strategic mistake.”

He gave Murphy and Michelle a glance, “We’ve been off the ring for less than a day, and we’re already talking about murdering hundreds of people.”

“Hundreds of people that would kill us the second they wake up. And then kill our people on the ground.”

“Exactly.” Voices were raising and statements were being made with a much stronger tone, though they weren’t actually arguing. Murphy once again backed Michelle. The way Bellamy looked at them, raising his eyebrows and digging the creases on his forehead, showed Michelle that the dynamic going on between the three of them wasn’t ideal, even though it felt nice to agree on something with Murphy for once in a while. She was afraid that it would make Murphy and Bellamy’s relationship worse if he thought the two exes were getting close again. She sighed in her head. It had been less than a day off the ring and so many things were going wrong. Or many she was overthinking it because of stress or something like that. She would know at some point, if they ever argued or what not, Bellamy would bring it up. “This is survival, not murder. Just like Michelle said, they die now, or we die later. If Clarke was here, this wouldn’t even be—”

“Clarke’s not here.” Bellamy kept his eyebrows raised, pulling their heads together. He wasn’t just annoyed at Murphy, he was sad to think about Clarke, and Michelle knew exactly how he felt. She felt the same way about her.

“Exactly.” He repeated himself. “She died so we could live, Bellamy. This is how we do that.”

“Maybe not.” Raven spoke, quietly. Murphy took a step back from Bellamy after getting up close in his face as things got heated. “We can leave them here like this but block the signal from the ground so they can’t wake them up.”

“They have a shuttle. They can just come back up and do it themselves.”

“Can you rig it so we can kill them remotely?” Echo wondered.

“It’s tricky… But possible. Why?”

“That way we can have leverage.” Michelle figured, speaking as she locked eyes with the former Azgeda spy.

“Put down your weapons or we pull the plug.” Bellamy added. He walked to Raven, Michelle’s hand sliding down and off his back. “How long do you need to make that possible?”

“I don’t know, but I’m on it.”

“Wait, Murphy.” The latter was walking away, leaving them in the room until Bellamy called his name. He stopped in the door frame. “I want to know what you think.”

“I think it’s a risk.”

“You’re right. It is. But Clarke didn’t die for us to live just so we can go back to the ground and make the same mistakes.”

“What the hell?” He smiled, pressing his lips together, not looking directly at them and shrugged. “Let’s be good guys.”

Michelle was pacing around. They were waiting for Bellamy to come back after he went to check on Raven, see if she had figured out how to rig the remote control of the cryo coffins and prevent Diyoza and her people to wake them up from the ground. Emory, Echo and Michelle all exchanged confused looks upon not seeing their fellow engineer.

“Where is she?” The others got up from the benches on either side of the boarding room.

“It’s technical, but, um, someone had to run things from up here.”

“So let it be John.” Michelle’s eyes were on him as Emori pointed at him with here hand. He was hurt that she wanted to be rid of him so bad. He felt her gaze and they looked at each other, and whether or not he interpreted her compassion as pity, or appreciated it, he looked away after a couple seconds.

“I said, it’s technical.”

After some silence, Monty spoke up, already walking away, ignoring Harper’s choked voice as she called out to him, but Bellamy stopped him in his tracks. “It has to be Raven. Once we have a truce, she’ll come down with the prisoners. If we fail, she’ll take the ship’s escape pod. Either way, she will be fine.”

“If I’m flying solo, she’ll be the only one.” Emori wasn’t about to let this go. Bellamy eventually walked past them, towards the pod. When he turned around, Murphy had stepped out of the boarding airlock.

“I’m staying too.” He declared. “Look, Raven might need backup.” Everyone was just staring at him in silence. “What? With Emori flying, this is the survivor’s move. See you on the other side.”

He then pressed on the button to the side of the door, closing it as he walked away.  They all put on their suits and got inside the dropship, Emori and Bellamy taking the commands, counting down the meters as they descended to the ground, lighting and firing up the engines. It shook quite a lot once they entered the atmosphere, and Michelle gritted her hand on the edge of her seat. When the robotic voice repeating Emori’s commands said the landing had been successful, they all had pleasantly surprised looks on their faces. They were on the ground. After 6 years, they were finally back. With a relieved breath, they took off their helmets, one after the other. Emori was so shocked by what she had accomplished, managing to keep all of her friends alive, that she didn’t respond the first time that Bellamy called her name.

“We didn’t die.”

“No. No, we didn’t.” He smiled.

“We’ll celebrate, once Murphy and Raven are back down, too.” Echo wasn’t as happy and cheerful or relieved as the others. She was, as always, much more pragmatic. “There’s no telling how many people saw us. We need to take cover in the trees before they get here.

“Yeah.” Bellamy agreed, passing his gloved hand in his hair to get the locks out of his forehead and unbolted his seatbelt, everyone doing the same and then following him outside after he opened the hatch. It was pitch black outside, and so quiet. So much so it was almost disturbing, and pretty scary given they didn’t know who could be watching them, but if it was someone like that dude on the Eligius, maybe those people wouldn’t be so discreet, but still they were on high alert. “Ok, so how do we dinf them?”

“We don’t. They’ll find us.” Echo stated.

Michelle’s thoughts on those people’s lack of discretion, or rather lack of need to be discreet, were confirmed when armed men appeared before them, aiming at them and ordering them to get on their knees. They already found them. Bellamy took upon himself to do the talking and stepped up as they all rose their hands in the hair.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. We don’t want to fight…”

“Now!”

“No, wait. We just want to talk.” One of the men took a radio, signaling that they had six hostiles in front of them, and they were told to standby. They all looked at each other until they heard a female voice, probably Diyoza’s, telling them they had lost four of their people, and that it was time to even the score. Right when they heard those words, the group knew a peaceful conversation wouldn’t be in the cards for them.

“Congratulations. Two of you get to live.” As he was about to shoot four of them down, a spear was thrown at him from the forest. He fired a few shots but couldn’t aim correctly and just shoot up the trees. A young girl stood there by the dim light of the moon, looking at them. Just a kid, as Bellamy noted, baffled. The girl was staring at him with big eyes.

“Bellamy?” He didn’t respond, staring back at her in confusion as to how she even knew his name. She swept her eyes around, glancing at the others, looking for something, or rather someone else. “Is Michelle there?” The latter walked out of Bellamy’s shadow and the girl smiled. “Clarke knew you would come.”

Bellamy had been so taken aback, it took him a minute before he could speak, “Clarke’s alive?”

“She’s in trouble. We have to go.” The girl urged.

“What about the others in the bunker?” Monty took a step forward.

“Still there.” Michelle closed her eyes for a second, taking a shaky breath, thinking about her father. He wasn’t dead, like she convinced herself of those past few years. He was very much still alive, and she could soon be reunited with him.

“What? No, no. How can that be?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”  They were left dumbfounded, but the girl seemingly didn’t have the time to tell them everything right there and then, so they jogged after her, following her through the woods to a Rover parked nearby. She drove them to a grove where they saw a group of people – most likely the people from the Eligius – and a blonde girl on the ground, seized with convulsions. It was Clarke. Once her hair got out of her face, there was no doubting it, but even before that, Michelle recognized her hair and silhouette almost instantly. Upon seeing the car approach, the group turned towards them, some aiming their weapons in their direction. Madi was about to step out of the vehicle, but Bellamy stopped her, staring ahead of him, through the windshield.             They were outnumbered and this could go wrong so fast, and in so many ways. 

“Madi, no. Take the rover back. That’s the plan.” He spoke. “I won’t let anything happen to Clarke. I promise.

“Come out with your hands high.” A woman shouted outside. Bellamy put his hand on the door and looked over his shoulder, glancing at Michelle sitting in the back, reassuring her that he would be okay, and stepped out to Clarke’s shock.

“Unarmed. Just want to talk.”

“Give me one good reason not to kill you where you stand.”

“How about I give you 283?” They weren’t expecting that one given the face she made and the look a man next to her gave her. “That’s how many of your people are gonna die if you and I can’t make a deal.” He pulled out a mug that he took on Eligius, proving he had been on the ship and wasn’t talking shit and bluffing about being able to kill all of their people. He then raised in other hand, closed into a fist, signaling to Madi to reverse the car and drive off. Michelle had climbed onto the passenger seat at the front and was staring at Clarke and Bellamy. She was battling her urge to urge to just jump out and join them, even though he asked her to stay in the car with Madi, Echo, Monty and Harper.

“283 lives for one. She must be pretty important to you.”

“She is.” Michelle had gotten out of the car, which was actually driving off into the forest this time. Bellamy turned his head, looking at her, sighing through his nose. He wasn’t so shocked that she didn’t follow through with staying in the car with the others. As he would, she would do anything for Clarke, or him, even if that put her in danger. The pair then both looked straight at Clarke, still on the ground. This wasn’t exactly the reunion they had expected.

They sat around a fire, in a heavy silence. The woman with them, the so-called Diyoza, had asked over the radio that someone check whether or not Bellamy’s words were true, and it was confirmed to be. Raven had successfully blocked their remote access to the cryo-room and the coffin-looking pods. They were unable to wake anyone up.

“Do I have your attention now?” Bellamy asked, his hands on his hips. Michelle stayed right beside him; arms crossed. She let him do the talking.

“I don’t know how you got on my ship, but if anything happens to any of my people…”

“Nothing will happen to them, as long as we can make a deal.”

“I dsay we kill him now.” They gave a sidelong glance at the man with them. The latter was inspecting the blade in his hands, not even looking at them, but looking up at Diyoza with a smirk.

“What do you want?”

“We need your help opening a bunker. You’re miners, so that shouldn’t be a problem for you. If you do that, I’ll let your people go.”

“And then what, happily ever after?”

“Then we’ll split this valley down the middle. Whether or not you’re happy is on you, but I’d like to think that we can find a way to coexist.” The same man that thought they should just kill them began laughing and stood up.

“Threatening to kill 283 of my people is one hell of a way to start a friendship.” She continued.

“Can’t expect us to come here without leverage.” Michelle said, shooting up her eyebrows. The explanations seemed quite sensible, hopefully, Diyoza wouldn’t disagree. Bellamy didn’t really give her time to comment on what she had just said. Urging her to give an answer to whether or not they had a deal, and they did have one. Bellamy and Michelle were then led to a room on the small ship they came down on and a door opened after making a buzzing sound, revealing Clarke lying down on a bench in the room.      She looked over her shoulder, both worried and surprised to see her two closest friends at her doorstep. Or at least that’s what Michelle assumed were the emotions carried by the look on her face. They walked up to her, helped her sit up and she took a second to look at them as if they weren’t real, before falling in their arms. There was so much relief in her voice once she could feel them against her. They were really here, and it brought tears to her eyes. She wasn’t hallucinating them. She eventually broke the embrace, and the relief had been replaced by concern and fear.

“Madi?”

“She’s safe.” He reassured her. “She’s in the woods with the others. Diyoza won’t look for them as long as we’re in control.”

“You’re all still alive…? Murphy, Monty, Raven?”

“Echo and Emori. Yeah.”

“Clarke, you saved us all.” Michelle added in a whisper.

She chuckled softly, “Now you’re home.” They held each other some more, before she broke the embrace again, getting all worried, again. “Wait. Why’d she release me?”

“We made a deal.” He replied. “She agreed to open the bunker.”

She showed relired at the news. They could all be reunited with the others. Michelle was especially happy about seeing her father again. She had missed him so dearly those past few years and desperately wanted to be held tightly in his arms and hold him in hers. There were three people mainly making up her entire world, and she had been kept apart from two of them for 6 years. And her father was especially important. During her time away from him, she had realized how much he had made up for her mother’s absence, and not being able to see him had forced her to face the latter’s death, and his own potential death and she couldn’t bear the thought. Bellamy, Michelle and Clarke could finally leave together and contacted Raven on the radio.

“Raven, can you hear me? Come in.”

Her voice responded a few seconds later, “Tell me everyone’s okay.”

“Everyone’s okay. We reached a deal with the people from that ship, and, by the way, the laser-com’s an open line, so they can hear every word we say.”

“Nice to meet you. We’re not bad people. We—” Murphy interrupted the conversation and was quickly cut off, Bellamy taking back the lead of the conversation.

“Raven, keep him away from the radio.”

“Copy that.”

“Anyway, they know the rules, but just to be safe, colonel Diyoza, here they are again. If anyone tries to get around your security, you pull the plug. If anyone does anything that wasn’t agreed upon, you pull the plug, and if you don’t hear from me every hour on the hour, you pull the plug.”

“Is that all?” From the sound of her voice, they could tell it was already a lot, and it was.

“No. That’s not all. Someone wants to say hello.” He handed the radio to Clarke, who, for the first time in years, spoke to Raven and Murphy and the mechanic couldn’t believe it was actually her on the other end.

“Jeez, and they call me the cockroach.” Murphy joked. They laughed.

“You guys just be careful up there, okay? We’ll talk more pnce this is all over. I want to hear everything.”

“Okay, but first, thank you for saving our lives.” Raven’s voice was febrile and heavy with emotion but n ow was the time to leave and get Diyoza to honor her part of the deal and finally be reunited with their friends and loved ones. Polis was in ruins, with only half of the main tower still standing. The bunker door was unattanable, being under the rubble so they caused a bunch of explosions on the top of the bunker, while Bellamy, Michelle and Clarke put on harnesses. Bellamy went down first, soon joined by the two young women, who looked around them upon setting foot on the floor. Tall wire mesh had been mounted on the railings, with people looking at them through the holes. Michelle’s eyes swept the room and fell to the ground, where she noticed pools of blood here and there and just stared. She couldn’t understand what they had been doing in there for this place to turn into whatever this was. She only turned around when she heard footsteps going up to Clarke, and she saw Octavia, with a warrior-like attire and red war paint on her face, as if she smeared her face with blood. Michelle kept on observing the faces she saw through the mesh, but none were her father’s, or even Abby, and she would think that if either of them had seen her or Clarke coming down, there would have been vocal reactions. They would have heard their parents calling out to them at least.  

“Where’s my dad?” Her question was blatantly ignored by Octavia though the latter looked at her, but her eyes were caught by two other persons coming down into the bunker. Diyoza and this man, whom Michelle assumed must have been her second in command or something, unbuckled the cords from their belts. Clarke and Michelle glanced at each other, not understanding what was going on here, and what was up with Octavia.

“Who are they?” She held her chin high in this strange manner that seemed so unnatural to the Octavia that Michelle remembered, with this sense of superiority.

“We’re here to rescue you.” Diyoza told her.

Octavia’s gaze went to their belts, “Why are you armed?”

“O, it’s okay. We have an understanding.”

“Before we get to that, Michelle asked you a question. Where’s her dad? And where’s my mom?” Clarke enquired.

“I’ll take them to their parents.” Indra waited a second for Octavia to give her a go. The latter nodded and the grounder took the girls down a corridor. She led them into a room from which Abby’s voice rose quietly, sitting against bunk beds. Their parents were kept apart, fro some reason that Indra didn’t care to explain, but what she did tell, and only because Michelle was so insistent to understand what had been happening in the bunker, was that her father had been made to fight to death in what she called the arena; the fighting pit. Knowing her father could have died mere moments before they got into the bunker shook her to her core and she went quiet.

“Is it over?” She asked quietly.

“He’s alive… for now.”

Clarke and Michelle entered the room just as silently, “Hi, mom.”

“Clarke?” She couldn’t believe it, and it took her a hot minute to look over her shoulder. She stared at her in shock as she came closer, and helf her daughter’s face in her hands, tand tenderly hugging her. Michelle crossed her arms over her chest, looking away. She was happy for Clarke, of course, but it was still unbearable to watch when she still wasn’t reunited with her own father.

“Everything’s gonna be okay. But first, we have to get you out of here.”

“What happens to Marcus?” Those words brought back Michelle’s attention to Abby.

“I’ll get him to the ground. After that, it’s up to you.” She turned to the door, signaling for Michelle to come with her, and she didn’t need to twist her arm. She followed her down the maze that were the bunker’s corridors, walking with a brisk pace. They stopped in front of cell door. Indra unlocked the door and Michelle followed her inside. He was handcuffed, sitting on the ground, lost in his thoughts and exchanged a few words with Indra without noticing his daughter standing by the door frame.

“Dad.” Much like when Abby heard her daughter's voice, he froze at first, probably wondering if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. But, eventually, he looked up, and he was unable to take his eyes off his daughter, unable to even blink, as though she would disappear into thin air if his eyes closed for but an instant. Her lips parted, trembling and as she repeated herself, her voice choked with tears that came flooding her eyes. She approached him, taking a peek at the cuffs before wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face against his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

She had dreams and nightmares about what their reunion would feel and look like, and thankfully, it were her dreams that had come true. He was alive, and standing right there. She didn't lose him while stuck in space, like she lost her mother while stuck on the ground. Her father couldn't reciprocate the hug because of his restraints but she felt his hand grab her jacket and take deep, shaky breaths against the top of her head. She never wanted to let him go. She wanted to keep him in her arms forever. Her greatest fear was to lose him. She somehow continued living after the biggest heartbreak of her entire life, which was losing her mother, but her father dying would be the final blow, and she knew deep down that she would never be able to cope with it; with the loss of both her parents, and her love for Bellamy made her think. Too much. And she cried even harder, but her father couldn't know it was also about Bellamy. Her voice was beyond unstable and inaudible because of her crying, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, honey.” Hearing the softness with which he addressed her made her bury her face in his neck, whimpering, and he brought his hand to her shoulder blade. Hearing her cry, on top of finally seeing her again, made him greatly emotional too and she heard him sniffing next to her ear, trying to contain himself, definitely because he didn't want her to hear him cry and be even sadder. Her only thought in that moment was how much she loved her dad.

“We have to move. Now.” Indra’s voice led Michelle to break the embrace and turn her head towards her, nodding. Indra advised to keep her father out of Octavia’s sight while until the latter was brought up to the surface. She led them back to the fighting pit and was gotten out of the bunker. She had a radio and would signal when it would be safe for Kane to get to the surface. Clarke was already up there, most likely, as there was no trace of her in the arena either, bu there was Abby with them. Michelle stayed down there until Indra called to tell them to bring him up once Octavia had left. He tried to convince his daughter to go up before him, but she refused and pushed him forward. They buckled the cord and pulled him upwards. He looked down to his daughter as he disappeared in the blinding light of the sun. She then motioned for Abby to go forth, but she wouldn’t, and Michelle sighed, nodding, and grabbing the cord when it was thrown back into the hole. She was lifted in the air and helped on the ground. She quickly unbuckled the cord and almost ran towards her father, joining him in front of Clarke. He turned his head to her and caressed his cheek before putting his hands on his shoulder, with Clarke looking at them, sweetly. They backed away from each other, hearing Indra come up to them, whispering to Kane as she dropped something in his hands.

“Wait for night. If you get caught, I won’t be able to help you.” She walked away. What she had just dropped in the palm of his hand was actually the key to unlock his handcuffs. Abby jogged up to them, taking Clarke in her arms. Michelle only then noticed that Bellamy was no where to be seen, but neither was Octavia, so she assumed they must have been talking somewhere, otherwise Bellamy would have been waiting for them at the bunker’s exit. They did as advised and waited until nightfall. Michelle stayed with Abby and her father, until Clarke came to them, and they slipped away.

“Okay. We’re safe here. Let’s get those cuffs off.” Clarke urged.

“If you’re right, and that valley’s the only survivable place, where will your mother and I go?” He asked, while Michelle busied herself with freeing him from those handcuffs.

“I’ll talk to Octavia, see if I can reason with her.”

“You won’t be able to.” Abby retorted.

“Regardless, that’s tomorro’s problem.” She shrugged it off. “Today we have to keep you out of sight until everyone is safely—” Their conversation was disrupted by a strange sound nearby.

“What was that?”

Clarke glanced at her mother, “I know what that was. Stay here.” They watched her run towards the source of the loud sound they had just heard and exchanged glances, but they didn’t stay there without moving for long. Abby and her father heard shouting about a doctor, asking where she was, and they came out of hiding. They refused to let everyone kill each other while they hid. Michelle clenched her jaw and could only follow them. The grounders and prisoners were all gathered around a blown-up fountain, the latter holding massive guns with blue lights on the side.

“Don’t shoot.” Abby spoke. “We’ll come without a fight.”

“I bet you will, traitor.” Octavia glared at Kane as he walked behind Abby, his hands up.

“We?” Diyoza came face to face with her.

“The two of us. Those are my terms.”

“I see where your daughter gets it from. Take them both.”

“Mom, what are you doing?” Clarke pulled her eyebrows together in worry.

“I love you, Clarke.” Two men of Diyoza’s came to take her and Kane.

“Dad—” She grabbed his arm, frowning, and one of the men pushed her away and grabbed him.

“I love you.” He told her quietly as he was taken away. Michelle watched him disappear from her sight without moving. They had just been reunited, and they were already separated. Her eyes went to Diyoza as she addressed the crowd and gave her a death stare.

“Here are my terms. The valley’s ours. Any attempt to get ther will be met by overwhelming force. As long as you stay here, we won’t have a problem. Is that a problem?”

“What about Raven and Murphy?” Bellamy took a step forward.

“For now, insurance. Let’s go, on me.” Most of her men followed her as she turned her heels, but one of those holding the large guns didn’t move. She insisted, ordering him to come with them, and he was about to, if Octavia didn’t provoke him with her smirk. He shouted, charging the gun and fired, obliterating the grouder that thres himself in front of Octavia to protect her. The crowd grew furious and Diyoza urged her people to get out of there and get ready for emergency evacuation. Michelle stepped back, watching Indra get to Octavia to help her as she was a little stunned though uninjured and watched the ship fly over their heads, while everyone ran around her, going in every direction, but she stayed where she was, just thinking about her dad being on that ship and not caring about anything else.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Published (03/15/2025) by Andrea

Taglist:  @mirellef2001

[readingforaneternity]

For all my Bellarke shippers, if you haven’t already, go read everything written by @ajrchaosrising-blog.

Everything is amazing and will make you contemplate life and the intricacies of love and will ultimately make you yearn for the kind of love Clarke and Bellamy have.

Go. Join me in this cycle of endless yearn.

[ipsiducis]

I just love that in 2024 when a new hyperfixation rears its head, there is still a place you can go and scroll endless memes, photos, gifsets, audio clips and videos without an algorithm "suggesting" content and making you look at paid adverts and clips where they will beep out Matt Bellamy saying 'cunt'.