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° • . ♚ . • °
Bellamy Blake.
Loyal, stubborn, and hot.
And he's all yours.
You've been dating for almost four years. When you got arrested, he visited you whenever he could. You watched over Octavia in the skybox and in return he made sure your parents were okay. So, when you were sent to Earth, imagine your surprise when Bellamy is the first person you see once you stepped into the fresh air.
Even though he was a complete and utter asshole, you stuck by him. He was scared and it manifested as control. You were all scared. Once he was humbled, though, it was smooth sailing.
Mostly.
You see, now you're about to be massacred by habitants of the ground. People who never left. You call them Grounders.
Very creative.
Bellamy looks over at you and wraps his arms around you. You hang onto him, finding comfort in his arms amongst the chaos.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice sending vibrations through your head.
"Fine, just worried, y'know?" He nods and kisses the top of your head.
"I know. Me, too. But we'll be okay."
"You think?" you ask, looking up at him.
"I know. You're not getting rid of me that easily. I followed you to Earth, (Y/N)." You roll your eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. You remind me all the time," you mumble.
"It's so you don't ever doubt how much I love you," he whispers.
"Remember, when this all goes down, you need to think of something to fight for. Something to look forward to." He nods, smiling softly.
"I've got you."
"You need to fight to live. You understand?" He nods, his eyes telling you everything you need to know. "I love you, Bellamy."
"I love you, (Y/N/N). So much." He kisses you and you smile into it, trying to think back to what you could've possibly done to get this lucky.
"Hey, lovebirds! We're in the middle of a war!" Miller shouts.
"Not yet we're not!" you retort. Bellamy chuckles and releases you.
"I have to go split up everyone into groups. I'll be right back, okay?" You nod and he kisses your nose before calling everyone together. You walk into the dropship and organize all of the medical supplies to get ready for any inevitable injuries. Despite the sounds of fighting, you focus on getting everything ready for the aftermath. Clarke runs in, breathless.
