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They mean a lot to me. (:
Bellamy can't recall the exact moment that Clarke's existence became one of the most important things to him. It had happened though and she had awakened parts of him that he thought had been lost to him a long time ago.
Sight:
When they first crash landed on Earth, which seemed like life times ago, Bellamy only had eyes for his sister. All he cared about was where Octavia was, once he laid eyes on her, he was able to semi-relax. Now, now Bellamy's dark eyes searched for Clarke at every moment. He would look for her throughout the camp, scanning for the familiar blonde head, getting more panicked as the minutes ticked by that he didn't see her. Or was it seconds? Finally, his eyes would spot her; talking with Raven, smiling at something his sister said, standing beside her mother, or watching Jasper and Monty with motherly concern. His whole body would relax and his heart would go back to beating normal, all because he caught a glimpse of his blonde haired co-leader; saw that she was okay. She was here.
As much as he enjoyed the sight of Clarke laying naked beside him in bed, because he did, he found just as much pleasure as seeing her wear one of his shirts. He would playfully scold her, shirts don't grow on trees, Clarke, his eyes would gleam as she nodded seriously, I know, and threw his shirt on anyways.
He loved that when he walked back through the gates to Camp Jaha, her eyes would lighten as soon as she found his; the same way that his eyes always lightened when he found her after walking through the gates.
Hearing:
Clarke had always been vocal about her emotions and how she felt, more vocal than Bellamy ever had been and he both loved and hated that about her. Sometimes he would get aggravated as she scolded him for doing one thing or another. You can't just take stupid risks like that, Bellamy! Storming into the med bay, no hello or I'm glad you're okay. Nope. Just straight to, what the hell were you thinking? Or the occasional do you have any idea what you did?
As aggravated he was by that and not appreciating being yelled at after nearly falling off the edge of a God damn cliff, he heard what she said in between the spaces of the words.
You could have been killed, Bellamy!
I care about you!
You scared me! Do you know how close I was to loosing you?
I was worried!
I'm glad you're home.
I need you. I love you.
So, he would let her yell at him, knowing that she didn't mean any of the harsh things negatively. She was just upset and he probably should have just left Monty and Jasper behind at camp instead of taking them out with him; especially when he knew they had been drinking.
I love you too, Clarke.
Smell:
Clarke always seem to smell like the Earth after it rained. When Bellamy told her that she had rolled her eyes and called him crazy. Yes, sometimes there were other scents on top of that one but it was always there.
Why that smell? Clarke would ask him. He would always shrug, letting out a sigh because this was only the fifth time that she asked this question. Because, Clarke. You just do. Clarke would nudge him in his side, yeah, but why? Bellamy would stop and stare at her, because I love that smell, okay? Would you rather I say you smell gross? Clarke would smile and kiss the side of his mouth, making sure Bellamy got a hint of her smell, before walking ahead of him.
He swore she did that purpose.
Sometimes, on top of the fresh rain smell, she would smell like him. He loved that his scent lingered on her, even after hours have passed since they woke up, and he loved having her scent mixed in with his own. When he would go to bed before her, on the nights when she worked in the med bay, he would pull her pillow to his chest and bury his nose into it.
He couldn't sleep otherwise. His sister had cleaned his sheets once, washing away Clarke's smell and Bellamy hadn't been able to sleep because of it. So, he ended up grabbing one of her shirts and cuddling with it.
Clarke didn't say a word to him about it. She'd just take the shirt from him, throwing it onto the floor, as he rolled and laid his head on her chest, pressing his nose against her neck.
It was kind of pathetic, really, but he didn't give a fuck.
Taste:
Bellamy could taste her on his lips. Without even thinking, he would casually lick his bottom lip and he would get a brief taste of her; a quick reminder of the activities they did the night before and he would find himself licking his lips throughout the rest of the day. Jasper, Monty or even Wick would throw him a water bottle for his chapped lips. Wouldn't want to bring you to the infirmary because you're dehydrated.
Wick always had a wicked smirk when he tossed Bellamy a water bottle.
Monty had a curious, I-think-I-know-but-don't-want-to-know, look when Bellamy took the bottle he offered.
Jasper just thought Bellamy had some serious chapped lips and he should really drink more water. Bellamy would give him a small smirk with a promise that he'd do his best.
Sometimes he would taste her blood and he would get sick. Why was she bleeding from her head?
Other times he'd taste Monty's moonshine and he'd get drunk.
Touch:
He would absolutely come apart just by Clarke's barely there kisses on the side of his hip. He would blackout sometimes when she worked him with her hand and bit him after the said kiss on the side of his hip. Sometimes he would need that grounding touch and he would clasp their hands together, their fingers slipping between each other like puzzle pieces, and squeeze as if she was the only thing keeping him here on Earth. Because in that moment she was.
Other times he would find his face cradled between her two hands, as her eyes searched his, pleading with him to not do this. Don't do this. Please don't do this. It was as if he stuck his hands into the fire when he pulled her hands away and turned, walking away without looking back. He couldn't look back. His face would still be tingling from where her hands were.
Karma would come back and bitch slap him in the face when Clarke is the one that's injured. He didn't listen when his sister explained that Lincoln brought her back after there had been some kind of accident. What fucking accident? He ran into the med bay and nearly fell apart at seeing Clarke lying there on a bed. He would walk over and place his hand over her chest, feeling the thump, thump, thump, beating against his hand because he needed that reassurance that Clarke was still alive; despite the rise and fall of her chest.
He would fall apart when Clarke opened her eyes days later, squeezing his hand with little strength that he thought he had imagined it.
He would kiss her with such force, making her whimper before he pulled back.
I love you, Clarke Griffin. Don't you dare fucking do that to me again.
He wouldn't let go of her for the rest of the time she was confined there. Both because he kept her from escaping and because he needed her touch.
Thank you for reading.
I hope you enjoyed!
-KT xo
