A fanfic in which I explore all the ways bellarke could have their first kiss.
Because someone had to do it.
1. the almost kiss
Clarke laughed as she dodged yet another splash of water from Octavia, finding her poor aim was one of the best entertainment systems around here.
"You're terrible!" She yelled gleefully over the shrieks and giggles of other campers around them. Octavia huffed at her statement, though she fought to keep the smile from her lips.
"No, I'm no-"She gasped mid-sentence as freezing cold water was tipped over her head. Turning around, she saw Jasper was the grinning culprit, a huge red bucket in his hands, now empty.
"You son of a bit-"She cut off with a squeal as he attempted to run through the water, (and failed, mostly) and dove after him, trying to grab at his shirt.
Clarke watched them with something of a blissful smile. For once, no impending war hung low over their heads, no battle plans, and no camper deaths. A treaty had been organised, families from the ark were to come down soon, and the campers were relishing their last days with no rules. She grimaced ever so slightly, but chose not to disturb the couple making out in the corner.
Things were way past PG by now.
She smiled, spread her arms wide, and ran her arms through the water, loving the rare feeling of clean on her skin.
"Having fun there, princess?"
Bellamy's voice rang close, and turning, she saw he stood behind her, a devilish glint reflecting in both his eyes and his smirk.
She narrowed her own eyes playfully.
"Whatever you're thinking about doing, just don-"He cut her off, sending a tidal wave her way. And unfortunately, unlike Octavia, his aim was perfect.
She gasped as it effectively soaked through her top, making the material cling to her. His eyes immediately went to the thin piece of clothing, and not bothering to hide it, he let his smirk grow, eyes still roaming her chest.
Oh he did not.
"You're going to regret that." She said in a sing-song voice, dropping her hands further into the water, a smirk on her lips that rivalled his.
"Bring it."
And boy, she did.
She snatched the bucket out of the hands of a laughing Jasper, and before you could say 'princess' had soaked him to the bone.
It was quite a glorious sight, not just the shirt clinging to his abs, his muscled arms, but the way his wet hair stuck to his head, curls vigorous as ever, and the way he almost instantly became uncomfortable.
She laughed something of a manic, evil laugh, and attempted to swim away from him.
She couldn't.
He caught her kicking legs, tangled them together, as she shrieked to be released, and grabbed her hips in a firm, but gentle, grip, as he lifted her out of the water and into the shockingly cold air. She was still laughing, but she'd felt a lot better when he was the uncomfortable one.
"Bellamy! Let me down!" She cried, hitting against his chest.
"Nuh-uh. Paybacks a bitch, huh, princess?" His smirk transformed itself into a boyish grin, and Clarke saw how it made him seem younger, less torn down with the afflictions of the world.
And she was the cause of that growing grin.
How strange.
"And you're a bastard!" She replied cheekily, even daring to stick her tongue out at him.
"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow, and dug his deft fingers into her sides.
He was not tickling her.
"Oh, god! Stop! Stop!" She cried in between fits of manic laughter, trying desperately to squirm away from his grip.
The devilish glint returned to his sparkling eyes.
"I want you to beg me, princess."
She shook her head vehemently.
"No! Never!"
His attack continued mercilessly.
"No! I won't!"
She screamed through hilarity, and Bellamy laughed.
"Bastard!"
"Come on princess, where are your manners?"
"The same place as your modesty!"
He wouldn't give up though, no matter how many times she insulted him, and Clarke quickly became short of breath.
She relented.
"Okay, okay! I give up!"
He stopped only for a second, and she took the opportunity to gulp down greedy amounts of air.
"What are the magic words, princess?" He mimicked the sing-song voice she had used earlier, enjoying immensely the feeling of Clarke in his hands.
She glared at him, but he saw the mirth.
"Please let me down, you sadistic son of a bitch."
He smiled at her then. Not grinning, not smirking, but a real, true smile.
Clarke had never seen one before.
She liked it.
"Well, since you said please…"
He dropped her hips, catching her when she came falling down by the waist.
He hadn't intended for their faces to be suddenly very close together, for her top to ride up, and for his hands to be resting on her creamy skin, her lips suddenly very red, and very close…
His hands were fire, her skin, ice. She thought that if he kept looking at her the way he was, she would melt under his fixed gaze, his eyes sizzling coals. He was inches away from her, so close; she could count the splattering of light freckles upon his face. She looked into his eyes then, and had to refrain from gasping at what was there.
Hunger, lust. For, her?
His hands moved then, inching further up her skin, leaving burning patterns in their wake.
Her hands were on his shoulders, for when he'd dropped her from the air, she'd clung to the closest thing she could reach, and in this instance, this had been him. She moved her hands now, bringing them to lock loosely around his neck.
Slowly, they inched deliciously closer, and as she reached up to meet his searching lips, he dipped his head downwards slowly, until they were breathing the same air, their breaths mingling, and both their bodies shook with a timid excitement. Closer, closer, no more than a millimetre away now, and-
"CLAAAAAAAARKE!"
Octavia's shrill scream rose out, above the laughter and talk, and Clarke and Bellamy sprung apart. Clarke tried her best not to look agitated- Bellamy looked pissed as anything.
"Yeah?" She yelled back, now hyper aware the whole camp was looking at her.
"Nothin'." She called back, smirking.
"Just trying to prevent an inevitable doom a little longer." She gestured to the two.
"And to piss off Bellamy." She added.
They both glared at her then.
2. the broken kiss
"IT WAS A DUMB FUCKING IDEA!"
Bellamy's raucous shout bellowed through camp, and is of cue; everyone winced against the harsh sound, wanting to escape his blinding fury.
And they weren't even in the same room.
Bellamy stood with Clarke in the drop ship, their expressions mirroring each other- wrathful convulsion, distrust, and a bitter flame nurtured into a blazing inferno.
They weren't happy bunnies.
"WE HAD TO TRY SOMETHING! WE'VE BEEN AT WAR FOR TOO LONG, BELLAMY! WE. CAN'T. WIN. WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO UNDERSTAND THAT?" Clarke shot back at him, ablaze with something more than simple fury.
"YOU DON'T SAY SHIT LIKE THAT! WE TRY, CLARKE! BECAUSE THAT'S THE BEST WE CAN DO- WE DON'T SURRENDER TO THE ENEMY!" Bellamy all but screamed at her, the tension in the room heightened to something new, something dangerous.
Clarke let out a bitter laugh.
"What's left to surrender? They've destroyed the camp. They've wrecked our food supplies. We have practically no clean water! The only thing they can take now, are our lives- and we're only barley clinging onto those. Tell me Bellamy, what else can they take?"
Her voice now grew quiet, cracking near the end. And suddenly, he understood. The truth dawned on him as cold water would trickle down your back, as you'd sense another presence in a supposedly empty room- with a terrifying sense of dread.
The princess' crown had finally fallen.
She stared at him, quiet tears falling freely down her scarred cheeks, and he was reminded of the first time Clarke had cried- tears of blood. And now she cried for all those that had shed blood, for the countless number of lives that had been lost in the war without end, and the lives that would soon be lost. These tears of blood were endless.
Her façade was lost, and before him was no longer a warrior, or a privileged princess, but a girl, a girl that had fought so strongly for so many years, and whose layers had finally come tumbling down, stripped away. And here she was, naked to the core, without her brick walls to protect her from hurt and pain.
She was broken.
And she was beautiful.
He gathered her in his arms, and she didn't protest against his warm skin on hers, didn't pull herself away from his embrace, but let herself sob into his shoulder, let the breaths come ragged and torn, and let him gather the pieces of her together again, stitch them back together into one, jagged, messy and strangely dysfunctional piece.
But he made her whole again.
She looked up at him now, eyes raw and red from crying, hair flying in a thousand different directions, cheeks flushed, and lips a bright red from the constant chewing between her teeth.
He found his gaze lingered on her lips, and when he did eventually look up to her eyes, hers were on his lips too, wide and unfocused. He stroked a piece of hair behind her ear, and caught her leaning into his hand, cheek nuzzled against it.
He offered a small smile, trying hard to stop it from bursting out into a full-blown, toothy grin.
"It's gonna be, okay, princess." He murmured softly, stroking a finger against her cheek, keeping the other free arm locked tightly around her waist, hers tangled in his hair, around his neck.
"Why do you call me that?" She asked quietly, looking into his eyes.
"What- princess?"
She nodded, playing with his curls.
He remembered why he started calling it her, it had been a term of mockery representing her position up on the ark, the healers daughter had always been well treated, lived a perfect life. He'd always believed her to be superficial, no depth, and so that had been his nickname, because that's what he'd thought her to be- a modern representation of a perfect little princess in her perfect little world.
He didn't know when that's changed, when he'd saw, that like everyone else, her world had cracks running through it, deep, harsh and jagged cracks, that had torn away a her sanity and happiness. That when he'd saw, she wasn't just a superficial bitch, but a real girl, probably braver, and smarter, and better than he could ever be.
Somewhere along the line, his nickname had become a term of respect, perhaps, even endearment.
He knew he wouldn't be able to explain all of this to her without stumbling over his words and stuttering like an idiot, so instead, he settled for something that he thought summed it up.
"Because you're embodied proof of something more."
She smiled now, tears dry and forgotten, and fitted her mouth over his.
He didn't have to think about kissing her back, as he brought both hands around her waist, and pressed his lips just as firmly against hers as she had with him.
She was still smiling against his lips, and as he moved to cover her neck with soft caresses, she laughed.
"What?" He mumbled against the skin of her neck.
"I'm something more." She replied, and he could hear the smugness in her voice. He rolled his eyes, but didn't deny it.
Because that was what life with Clarke Griffin was- complimenting her, and then immediately regretting it.
3. the claiming kiss
Clarke was really starting to lose it now.
Gritting her teeth, she turned to face Finn, clenching her fist as if to not throw something at him.
The boy simply did not know the meaning of the words leave me alone.
"Finn. Listen. To. Me. It is fine about you and Raven. We were together for one night- you never thought you'd see her again. I get it." She emphasised the last part, trying to communicate to him that it really was okay. I mean, sure, it stung, but she was just glad it had happened before any real feelings had time to grow.
Now that would've hurt like a bitch.
She smiled, even patted his shoulder a few times, turned on her heel and again attempted to walk away from him.
Aaaaaand of course, he caught her shoulder and spun her right back around.
She groaned internally. This was just not her night.
"Clarke, listen- I feel awful about everything," Well wasn't he a freaking saint? "And I love Raven, I do, but you and me, we shared something. A connection. You can't deny that."
She raised an eyebrow at his persistence. Well, damn if this boy wasn't determined to make her admit that she felt something for him.
But really, there was simply nothing to admit. No declaration to announce, no gushing and longing stares to be had, and whatever 'connection' Finn was talking about, well, it was unrequited.
She closed her eyes, trying to take calming breaths. If he didn't stop badgering her, she was just going to have to go and make a scene.
"Finn. There was no connection. It was one night of sex, and I'm sorry, but there is nothing, nor will there ever be, anything between us. Okay?"
He winced at her words, and she realised that somehow an apology had weaselled its way in there.
She was apologising to him?
There was something very wrong with that. She'd done nothing wrong. But she knew if she made something out of it, it would result in a scene, and really, there were more important things to be done.
Besides, Raven was glaring at her from the other side of the camp, and she actually liked Raven, so she wasn't about to doom another relationship.
Because this one, really was, just destroyed.
She walked away from Finn again, and thankfully, this time, he didn't try to stop her. She walked into the medic bay, and fell into a chair, rubbing her temples. She was so tired.
"A little stressed there, princess?" Bellamy Blake questioned, strolling into the medic bay, looking as though he had not a care in the world.
Lucky bastard.
"Oh, no! This is me when I'm fucking happy." She snapped at him, earning a small smirk.
"Woo. Someone's feeling a little bitchy, today." He grinned as she became more agitated with him, temper rising.
She shook her head.
"You self-satisfying, repellent little son of a bitch."
"Ooh, extra- bitchy today."
She wanted to kill him.
She wanted to fucking kill the bastard.
"Is it spacewalker? Its spacewalker, isn't it? Sit; tell me your troubles so I may wash them away."
"I am sitting you moronic cretin."
He laughed, which in turn, earned him a hateful look.
"Not all of us get our kicks out of meaningless sex, you know." She glowered at him, and he wiped the smile from his face, suddenly turning dead serious.
"Whoever said it was meaningless?" He questioned, stepping closer towards her, and leaning down so that they were on the same level.
She rolled her eyes.
"You do. Every time you add another girl into your disgusting little harem." She made a face, imagining what Bellamy had to say to these girls to get them into his bed.
"You wondering what I say to them?" He asked, leaning closer to her. So that was just a tad creepy- how'd he know that?
She didn't have much longer to dwell on her thoughts though as he came impossibly closer, turning so his breath ghosted across her ear.
She wasn't sure what he was doing to her as logic dissolved quickly in her head, breaking apart to become thoughts she shouldn't be having- wrong thoughts.
He trailed a finger along the bare skin of her arm, slowly, softly, just an echo of his touch, and breathed sweet nothings into her ear, even going as far as to take her earlobe in between his teeth.
She felt her resolve weakening, giving into him, melting into his meaningless words, and his nothing touches.
Wait. Was he trying to seduce her?
Was he succeeding in seducing her?
She pulled away from him quickly, tearing her arm away from his wandering touch, her ear away from his addictive mouth.
He laughed silently, and when she spoke her voice came out throaty, and lower than expected.
"What the hell was that?"
He shrugged, standing up, a grin forming quickly.
"The time-old art of seduction. Did it answer your question?"
Clarke pushed away the clouded haze as he spoke, but became engulfed in it again very quickly.
"Question…?"
She quickly realised she was only adding to his arrogant confidence.
"I'm that good." He teased, though she thought she saw a flash of lust in his eyes.
It was gone too quickly though, she couldn't have classified it.
She attempted another eye-roll.
"Like it means anything. Besides, you didn't seduce me. How could you? I know where that mouth's been- that's the problem." She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, and walked out into camp, brushing past him and ignoring the tingles that ran up her arm.
Clarke sat down around the fire, and ignored Bellamy as he came out of the medic bay. However, it became increasingly harder to ignore him as he took he seat directly opposite her, over the fire.
She tried not to see how his eyes burned brighter than the fire.
She really did.
It didn't work.
At some point in the night, during a certain staring match between the two leaders, a girl tried to position herself on Bellamy's lap. Clarke expected him to take her back to his tent, have his wicked way with her.
He all but shoved the girl off his lap.
Clarke stared with wide eyes as he did this, and looked after the girl as she walked off, embarrassed at being rejected. She turned her gaze back on Bellamy, who grinned devilishly at her.
She wasn't sure if she liked it.
Secretly, she knew she did.
She saw him stand from his seat, a dangerous glint still in his eyes, but her gaze was torn away from him as Finn came to sit beside her.
Did his boy not get the message she had so clearly tried to convey?
She sighed, readying herself for the fierce argument to come, but as Finn opened his mouth to speak, Bellamy interrupted, popping his head in the small space between Clarke and Finn.
"Excuse me, may I interrupt?" He questioned, ignoring the quizzical look Finn's face.
And before either of them had time to react, he pressed his lips against Clarkes.
She made a noise against his lips, and whether it was a noise of pleasure, an angry shout, or perhaps even a whimper, they'll never know, because it was lost amongst them soon enough.
She rested her hands around his neck, and his lay on her arms, drawing patterns that she couldn't even begin to focus on, because she was kissing Bellamy Blake.
Killing? Yes.
Kissing? No.
She couldn't help but compare him to Finn, because where Finn was all sweetness and shyness, Bellamy was fire and burning- and she found she much preferred the intense heat of the fire, the basking glow.
They pulled away eventually, panting and gasping, to the catcalls of the camp.
"Wooo! Get in there, Blake!"
Bellamy grinned, but Clarke found she was incapable of doing anything but staring at him, wide-eyed. He pecked her lips once more- just a feather touch that left her wanting much more- and turned to Finn, smirking in victory.
"Please, by all means, continue your conversation."
(Part two to come at a later date…)
(providing you provide me with some fabulous reviews that make me laugh/blush- I'll take what I can get.)