Hey guys! Enjoy the new oneshot:) 3


Bellamy and Clarke

Bellamy Blake just had to get friggin' shot.

And not one of those minor injuries Clarke has always been able to recover on the field, or one of those opening of flesh she knows how to cover. This was a deep, life-threatening, possibly no-more-Bellamy-Blake wound. The one that squeezed Clarke's heart and made her breath falter.

Fuck.

"We have to get you out of here," she whispers, her hands steady on the entrance of the bullet hole, just above his left hip. The chaos of war surrounds them as he hisses in pain, his hands gripping her elbows. "Octavia's going to find a distraction. And we'll get you out. Don't worry, we'll get you out."

She thinks she's trying to reassure herself more than him.

The sound of screaming and gunshots continues to escalate, each pop a physical ache to her heart. She shuffles closer into the corner they're shielding behind, brushing her body with Bellamy's. She closes her eyes briefly. They'll win, they'll win and they'll save Bellamy. They'll save everyone. She has to.

"Clarke," Bellamy breathes. His skin is pale and cool, and the baseball cap he's been hiding behind is resting on the floor beside them, revealing those familiar brown curls of hair. She reaches out and touches them. So soft, yet painted with blood. "Get out of here. Now."

"No."

Another round involving shouts of pain echoes through the corridor, and his fingers clutch at her arm. "Clarke. Get the fuck out. I mean it. Get Octavia and leave." His tone is panicked now. Vulnerable. As if he knows what the outcome of this night is, as if he knows he's going to -

No. No, he's going to survive.

This can't be how it ends, there's no point of surviving if he's not there with her.

"Shut up," she hisses. Blood pours from the ripped part of his shirt she wrapped around his wound, and it makes her sick to think that Bellamy Blake, the man made of iron, bleeds red like everyone else. "Octavia should be back anytime now. So shut up."

"Clarke - "

She shakes her head. Her hand comes up to press her fingers against his cheek, blood staining his skin. His eyes soften at the contact, and she doesn't know whether it's because her embrace is comforting or because he's giving in to the feeling of death. Either way, it agonizes her.

"Listen to me," she murmurs. Her hand grips his face a little tighter to keep him awake but his eyes continue to droop. "You are not dyeing here. You hear me? You are not dyeing in this stupid fucking mountain. Octavia's coming back, and we're getting you out. So don't fucking die yet."

Her heart is pounding, and his breath is slowing, and God she can't lose him, she can't lose him now -

So she kisses him.

Clarke leans forward, eyes falling closed, and kisses him. A soft, sweet kiss that sparks a sensation inside her, an overwhelming amount of need that stabilizes her breathing. Her fingers press softer into his skin, and she sighs in relief when she feels him kissing her back. His mouth parting her lips and his breath on her skin. Whoa.

She pulls back, hearing the nearing footsteps and shouts of Octavia returning to them. Her eyes slowly lift to meet his. His gaze is burning and alive. "About damn time," he whispers. His words make her nod, make her smile through the tears, and she leans forward to press her lips quickly against his forehead.

If she loses him, it was never worth the risk.

Octavia kneels beside them, tells them the army is overpowering the Mountain Men and Lincoln found an opening for them to escape back to Camp Jaha. She tells them it's a long and dangerous walk, but Clarke doesn't hear that, all she hears is the fact that they have a chance. Bellamy has a chance.

So they leave, half dragging and half carrying him as they stumble across the ground. Clarke tries to drown the sound of continuous screaming and pain as she leaves her people behind, but then she hears chants, and shouts of victory, and she knows they've won.

Of course they did. Bellamy fucking saved them all.

And now they have to save Bellamy.

He's unconscious by the time they reach Camp Jaha, and her mother hurries him into the med bay. The minutes of his surgery turn into hours, and the hours of his coma turn into days, until finally, one day, he wakes up.

And Clarke is there. Holding his hand and peppering her lips against his face. She's there when he cries for the people they lost (the loss of Monty and Harper still burns), and she's there when he smiles when he reunite with the people they saved.

And God. She can't help but feel that he saved her. So many damn times.

So months later, when they're huddled in his tent in the night, his arms wrapped around her waist, she finally says the words she's been terrified of speaking of since Finn. The words she's been taught to hate and never feel.

"I love you."

His grin is soft and welcoming, because he's always known. "About time," he whispers.


Haha! Hopefully this is what happens during the season finale?! Or at least SOME kind of Bellarke moment, I mean come on Jason! We need Bellarke!

Again, requests are always welcome. Happy bellarking, xoxoxoxo.