I am so sorry for the delay! My laptop has been in repairs after an incident! Just a reminder that this oneshot series will not always be canon, or in chronological order. Enjoy! :)
Bellamy and Clarke
He realizes that the love he has for her is the dangerous kind.
The kind that allows him to be violent when her life is dangling in front of him, the kind that forces him to be selfish when she's captured by Grounders with other survivors, the kind that extends his brutality if anyone touches her.
And, irresponsibly yet completely understandable, the kind that motivates him to keep her safe amongst anyone else.
Based on the casualties he could have saved, Bellamy identifies this as the reason why the feelings he has for Clarke Griffin is utterly and inefficiently dangerous.
God damn it.
"Jacob, Bellamy. You should have rescued Jacob, he's the one with the best aim. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Bellamy sighs. It's been several hours since he raided the Grounder prison in the east woods, his hands occupied with spears and his mind racing with desperation. There were four delinquents he brought with him after hearing of the princess being captured, and, undoubtedly, one of them being Jacob. And, undoubtedly, his priority was to save Clarke. Not Jacob.
Sorry Jacob.
"You weren't even paying attention to him," Clarke hisses, the wet cloth beginning to press a little harder against the side of his neck. His eyes don't stray from her fierce glare as he watches her from his position on the mattress. She's standing between his legs, her free hand on his shoulder, and he tries not to be obvious about his gazing.
But her eyes. Damn her eyes make it nearly impossible.
"Are you even fucking listening?"
Bellamy tilts his head further upwards to study her. Her skin is still plastered with dried blood and her hair is still frizzing from the nap she just woke from. The nap where she thrashed in his bed, screaming of murder, and he had to hush her back to a quiet slumber. Only for her to rewake and release her inner rage on him.
As long as she's breathing, he really doesn't fucking care.
"There wasn't anything I could have done," he tells her. It doesn't smooth the creasing in her forehead. "Jacob knew of the possibilities going in. He choice to come. To save you. He made his choice the minute he left camp with me."
Clarke scoffs. "You shouldn't have came. It's not worth the risk."
Okay, now he's getting pissed.
He grabs both of her hands that rest on his neck, pulling them back and taking them in his own grasp. He drops the bloodied cloth she's been healing him with on the floor, weaving his fingers through his. Her skin is cold and wet with the red reminder of loss.
Clarke breathes deeply, her eyes afire. He squeezes her hands and pulls her closer towards him. "You can't say that, Clarke," he murmurs. "You need to understand that it is worth the risk. It always fucking will be. Always has been."
And that's why its dangerous. And if his desperate need to protect her at all costs is what condemns him to hell, then he'll willingly go. As long as she's alive, he'll go anywhere, do anything, for her.
Clarke seems to understand that, and she rips her hands from his grasp and uses them to shove against his chest. He shifts on the mattress so he doesn't fall backwards, rising from the bed and standing in front of her. "Shut up, Bellamy," she grumbles, "just shut up, shut up, shut up."
His eyes bore into hers. "No."
He can hear her breathing falter, can sense the frustration radiate off her skin as she springs forward to shove him again. Her voice is weak and low, and he can notice the tears shedding her eyes. "You idiot. Don't you get it? Jacob died, he - " she stops short, pausing to wipe her fingers hastily at the wetness under eyes, "You could have died. That could have been you."
Her gaze is broken and her hands are clenched into fists. It reminds him of a familiar feeling, and he understands, he understands that she would do for him what he would do for her. And they're both too stubborn to allow each other to do it.
Bellamy shakes his head, but she speaks before he gets the chance to. "You can't just keep looking for me every time I'm in danger. I'm always in danger. Both of us are always in danger. But God, Bellamy, if something were to happen to you - I would . . . I would never forgive you. Or me. So that can't happen."
He can hear the meaning behind her words, I can't loose you, and Don't die on me. They all sound too familiar, too understandable. Her tone is shaking and Bellamy stands where he is, completely silent and unwavering.
Clarke swallows thickly. She isn't done. "So don't try to make me feel okay with you risking your life for me, because if it were the other way around, you wouldn't want me to go and you know it - "
The next moment is a blur of hands tangling in hair and continuous whispers of need. His mouth is desperate on hers, their bodies exploding with heat as she kisses him back with the same passion she uses with every kiss they share. He remembers the line of her lips by now, always soft when they're lazy, always vicious when they need each other. Her lips bring him home.
Her curves are familiar as he traces his fingers down her body, pausing to cups his hands around her thighs and pulling her up. She wraps her legs around her waist and bites down softly on his tongue, rolling her core against his.
Bloody hell. This girl really will be the death of him.
Bellamy carries her to the bed, laying her below him, growing with want. He hovers above her as they strip each other of their clothes, as they struggle to touch every exposed spot of skin. Her hands are smooth as they grab his arms, nails digging along his skin as he pushes into her.
And with his head buried in her neck, and her once broken voice now screaming his name, he accepts the fact that loving her could really cause the end of the world. It could bring upon fire and ice, and death and destruction. Loving her could cause wars and battles, with both sides losing.
It could cause both their existence, but fuck the world for trying.
Because she's alive, and kissing his neck, and he's never felt anything close to this with anybody else. This feeling of need. And hell, it is dangerous, he knows that. But so does she. Love is absolutely dangerous.
And they're both ridiculously and stupidly guilty of it.
Haha! Little different I know but I hope you guys enjoyed it!:) Again, don't be shy if you want to request any prompts, I'll be happy to do it! Happy Bellarking my loves!
Xoxo
