A series of bellarke oneshots

Paint my love

Not mine
She is an artist, the world is ribbons of hue and colours to her. At her cottage, the only thing that could soothe her is when she is drawing, tracking down her own feelings and the beauty of the world. One thing she could not resist is a good art. Maybe that's why she is so attracted to the sculptor.

She has seen him make sculptures before. She visits him often. His eyes focused, shined with passion. Sometimes his wild curls, that often remind her of morning coffee, would swirl into his determined eyes, but he would still hold his posture and continue to chisel on his soon to be masterpiece. She likes watching him. He himself is a good art, with wide broad shoulders, strong muscular arms and large steady hands. His light caramel skin dusted with freckles that remind her of splatters of water paint. She would blush when she see his build show through his thin white shirt when he flexes as he chisels at more stubborn parts. But she loves watching his expression the most. When his chocolate brown eyes sparkle when he strikes his last hammer... Or when he makes that tight little frown when he is drowning in his pensive thoughts. He knows she is watching yet he doesn't speak a word, because he knows she likes the silence, and she likes this quiet act of admiration. So does he. But it is difficult to ignore her, she is his muse, that golden girl with a radiant smile. At times he would momentarily glance at her and send her gentle gazes. Moments so peaceful and still, fill them both with life.

Yet she breaks the silence, softly chuckling; he bewitches her, which is ironic because she is also a witch. How dumb is it to fall in love with the man of art. Maybe it is her love for art, but she is more certain it is her love for him.

"Master Colins is ready to see you." The maid breaks her trance with the man. She frowns bitterly, such a rude interruption.

She thanks her anyway but ever so emotionlessly. Maybe it is a childish grudge against the maid for intruding her private moment, but the witch knows it is because of her strong distaste toward the maid's master. Colins, Finn Colins, the arrogant man who never grew out of loving himself. He shamelessly twists the idea of romance to be just lust and desire, and breaks her heart.

I never knew she would come back.
She shakes her head at the dark memory. Today is going to be the end of everything between them. She walks into the door that is held open by the maid, her head holding up high radiating confidence. She wants nothing to do with Finn. Rather a laughable scene though, for Finn is sitting relaxingly against the couch but immediately jumps up as he sees her through the door.

"Clarke, you came!" Finn greets with warmth. Such familiarity in his tone, but it completely disgusts her.

"I did. Since one of us has to be the more mature one, I am here to say farewell." She speaks monotonously.

His eyes sullen and glassy, but this act doesn't affect the witch one bit. Instead of provoking sympathy, it aggravates her; how dare he acts like she has wronged him when it is in fact the opposite?

"Please Clarke...I really didn't..." he tries to explain, but Clarke has heard it too many times since she walked into his chamber with the surprise of another woman in his arms. She is still surprised to how she has held in her magic and not cause mayhem when she saw everything. But she was still mad, mad enough to shatter the glass vase on his nightstand when she was at the door. Maybe everyone in that room was all too carried away from shock, no one, not even herself noticed the magic of her wrath.

The woman was a brunette. Quite beautiful and charming. Clarke admits that she felt extremely jealous when she saw her, who wouldn't want a beautiful woman like that in their arms? She herself, with messy sunlit curls, boring sky blue eyes, must be boring comparing to the brunette with long silky locks and captivating dark eyes. But Clarke has grown pass that jealousy, since she wants nothing to do with Finn Colins anymore.

"You explained enough times, no one likes to listen to a broken record." Clarke replies with coldness. "If this is all you call me here to say, then I am leaving."

"Wait Clarke, that's not it." He stops her. "I asked you to come today... for you to give me a chance to make it up to you."

She scoffs at him almost disbelieving at how dense and how childish he can be. How could he fix this? She thinks for a while.

"You cannot fix this, you can never fix this." She answers him icily. "But you can do one thing for me though..."

He looks up hopefully.

"You can give me the biggest painting you have in your main hall."

He looks at her with confusion. "That painting? The one with the...?"

She cuts him off, annoyed, "You know which one I am talking about, stop wasting my time, can you or not give it to me?"

Finn is brewing up his own little scheme inside of his head. Maybe he is having delusions but he thinks he can still get another chance with her, even if it means to play unfairly.

"You see Clarke, that painting... It's a very precious gift from my father." He speaks casually, strolling toward her. But Clarke does not flinch at all, glaring at him with venomous eyes. "I know that mending our relationship would be..."

"There is no relationship here to mend." She interrupts him bitterly.

He chuckles with lightness, "Fine fine... Let me rephrase it, fixing my mistake would be a rather difficult task, but that painting... It has history.Giving it to you, I don't mind, but it is a heritage."

Clarke isn't sure if he is lying or not, but seeing what he has done to her before, she is almost certain that is a lie. Yet she is still a little doubtful, and feels a tinge of guilt inside of her heart to ask so bluntly for something that might mean so much for someone. Even though he has broken her heart and betrayed her, no matter how bad he was to her, she still wouldn't stoop so low to his level and be petty. But again... Clarke is an artist.

Finn notices Clarke's obvious dilemma and smirks. "But I will still fulfill your request, with an addition of something..."

"If it means another chance then..." she says angrily.

"No not that, I won't be so pushy." He cuts her off smoothly. "All I am asking you to do for me... is to attend my ball... in the upcoming week, on the same day today."

She furrows her brows. She doesn't want to meet him again, and this whole deal is ridiculous for it seems like she owes him something.

"Come on Clarke, you want that painting, don't you?" he smiles innocently at her which almost makes her gag.

She thinks for a while then finally answers. "Fine, but I won't be your date."

He claps his hand together with a smug smile, and Clarke finds herself holding back on her magic again.

"Then we have a deal." He holds his hand out to shake but she ignores it. He knows she won't touch him again, at least willingly, so he chuckles and puts his hand back to his side. "You come to my ball, it will be at night by the way, and then you can receive the painting."

"Ok."

Without any other word, she leaves. Once she is completely gone, Finn laughs. She may look stoic and confident when she strutted out, but he is the one has won. He relaxes and falls onto the couch. Maybe just maybe, he'll have another chance.


OOOoooOOOoooOOO


The night of the dance has finally arrived. Clarke does not purposely dress herself up too much. Her friend Wells helps her with her dress, being a male does not stop him for having a good taste, he once told her. At first she protests, because she doesn't want Finn to think she is looking beautiful for him.

"You're not. You are showing him, you are even better without him," he encourages her with a toothy smile. "And isn't there another man that you want to impress?"

Clarke is defeated, he does have a point.

"You should come." She changes the topic.

"I am not invited," he taps her nose playfully. "And also, I don't want to give the other guy the wrong idea."

He winks at her, then he sprinkles her with his own magic. "It's good that I have magic too isn't it? Or this will take forever."

Clarke laughs, it is true. They both grew up with magic, the only few witches and warlocks they both know other than their own parents. Even though the population of magical beings is low, she is glad that to only know one other than the adults, and also that one being her best friend.

Wells' magic is pure, one can tell just by the dress. It is completely white and subtly sparkles with his magic. White lace hugs her chest, back and upper arms with embodiments of flowers, the lacey fabric flows down and blends in with the pearly silk underneath it down to her thigh. She looks angelic.

"See? Not too flamboyant, but still amazing." He grins.

She feels teary, Wells has been supportive since from the start. She hugs him tightly and buries her face into his neck.

"Thank you," she muffles.

He pats her back gently and smiles. "What, this? This is just some everyday thing. You and I are way passed the polite gratitude stage."

She pulls back and smiles back at him.

"Alright, dance has probably already started... Your hair is not even done." He hurries her with a light tone.

She snaps her finger and her loose hair instantly becomes a low braided bun.

"Complaints?" she jokingly asks.

"No. Perfection... of course with my help." He pats her lightly and grins. "Now go, you're late."

He playfully pushes her out the door and she waves him goodbye.

Her heart remains heavy when she sits in the carriage, she cannot wait to meet the man and retrieve the painting.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

As she arrives to Finn's mansion, everyone is already packed inside his ballroom. She suddenly feels a little underdressed since all the ladies are wearing long gowns, but truthfully she couldn't care less. She feels everyone's judgmental eyes on her, maybe it's the dress, but it may also be because she is an outcast. Due to her witchery background, she is often hidden by her mother. When she does show, she stands out like a sore thumb. This may be why Finn is ever interested in her, because she conspicuous. She always manages to be like that, including this very moment. She ignores these watchful eyes because she is used to the stares and the sneers.

Finn notices her the moment she walks in, her dress looks breathless on her. The light casted on her, making her look like she just walked out from a fairytale storybook. He quickly pushes the girl sitting beside him away, he wasn't interested in her anyway, since she was the reason to cause Clarke to leave him. He approaches her with prideful strides and bows to her extending his hand,

"You came."

Everyone in the room are trying to be subtle about their prying eyes and ears, but Clarke knows they are paying more attention at her... at them now.

"Only because you forced me to." She frowns at him, not accepting his hand.

"Clarke, you came willingly." He laughs under his breath. "We had a deal. You didn't protest."

"Doesn't mean I didn't want to." He straightens himself and grabs her hand in which Clarke immediately jerks it out from him.

"You won't have your hand the next time you touch me." Just like that she walks away from him again.

His eyes darkens, how dare she... How dare she leave him and embarrass him like that in front of everyone? Can't she tell that he is trying? Why is she being so selfish?

He silently follows her footsteps.



OOOoooOOOoooOOO


She wanders off to the large hallway, away from the crowd, which she isn't comfortable with anyway. Clarke feels disgusted that she let her guard down, and let his filthy hand touch her. But her unease feelings are instantly distinguished when she catches the sight of him... The sculptor is here.

She knows he would be but she still cannot believe it. He is just as happy to see her and takes her by her hand, gliding her toward him.

"You're here." She whispers, eyes completely lost in his.

"And you're here." He replies huskily, giving her the same adoring eyes he sends her whenever he got a chance to when he was sculpting.

He grabs her face hastily and guides her lips to his. He kisses her carefully but also passionately, softly pulling her lips and exploring her tongue. It catches her by surprise because they never kissed before. All those times of unspeakable tension, mischievous glances, playful banters and seductive flirtations all dawn to this very moment she only dares to dream about. She recovers when the scent of minerals, the scent of him, slither into her. When they are both too out of breath to continue, she shyly covers her face with her hand while he laughs and try to uncover it.

"I didn't know you are so shy since you watch me all the time when I work." He teases her, while trying to take her hands away from her face slowly. "I think you were checking me out."

"I was not, it's because I like and appreciate art." She muffles behind her hands.

"Apparently also me, too." He chuckles, then he bends down to kiss her hands delicately.

She jumps, and then glares at him playfully. "Hey, at least warn me!"

He laughs. "I can't help it, I miss you. I haven't seen you in a long time."

The sculptor immediately pulls her into a warm embrace. She feels so safe in his arms.

"I miss you too, Bellamy." She smiles contently. "But I needed my time after what happened." She looks at him childishly. "Finn keeps you here. I had no good reason to come here and see you."

"I guess so." He caresses one of her escaping sunny locks away from her face lovingly. "You had no idea how much I was holding myself back when I saw you last week."

She kisses him lightly on the lips with a smile. "Sorry."

He kisses her back. "You look beautiful today, Clarke."

She laughs, "Not so bad yourself, Bellamy."

He gives her a boyish grin, lowering his head a little out of embarrassment.

"I have something here for you." He holds one of his hands out. "Give me your hand."

Clarke is a bit confused but she does it anyway. He takes her hand and feels something cold and small drops into her palm. She gasps when she sees it, it is a delicate silver ring twirled and twisted into the shape of small tiara.

He scratches the back of his head and looks down trying to hide his flushed face, "I made it when I was waiting for you. It's not much, sorry. But I thought you would like it."

She quickly slides the ring through her finger and pulls him into one more kiss. This time it is less gentle than the first one, but it is more passionate and hungrier. She nearly topples down by the force of his kiss, she feels completely weak against him but thankfully his arms are there to support her weight. She pulls back and he tries to chase her lips again but she stops him lightly with her hand and giggles as he pouts.

"Of course I love it, you dumb sculptor," she puts one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hand. "Right now I want to dance with you. Dance with me."

He smiles in defeat, "Why of course, shall we?"

Even though the music from the ballroom is drowned out by the walls, they dance to the silent tune of the night. Gliding across the floor, swirling gracefully in each other's arms. What Clarke doesn't notice is that Finn has been witnessing everything in shock and anger behind the walls.

This is what she left me for?!

His hands clutches tightly at his dagger, knuckles whitened. But it's okay, this can be arranged, this can be fixed. He already called for his servants.

The couple still lost in their wonderland, doesn't even notice that Finn's servant are approaching them. Before Clarke could even react, four of them are already tightly holding her back.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LET GO." She panics; lights begin to flicker in the hallway.
Bellamy is already gone. Back into the painting. The painting of the man and his sculpture. She wants to reach out for him, get him back, but she is not in her right mind, she can't focus her magic on the painting. As she is struggling against the servants, desperately wanting to use her magic to diminish them but she remembers the witch's code never use your power for evil.

But I want him.

She tries to pull her arms out.

I want to be with him.

Her hair a mess, tears flooding.

The last thing she sees is Finn lunging at the painting with his dagger and stabbing it, specifically at Bellamy.

The last little bit of magic on the painting is gone. At the last moment, Bellamy is alive again in the painting, but to only stare back at her, giving her one last smile, this time with sadness and despair, then vanishes from the painting.

She cries out which causes all the party go-ers to come out from the ballroom to inspect what has happened. The servants finally let her go as she drops onto the marble floor hopelessly like a dying leaf. This wasn't meant to happen... She was supposed to come to this ball and take the painting home. She just learnt how to bring him to life permanently. They were supposed to be together.

Everyone is crowding around her. Smirking, sneering, laughing. All these scornful eyes and comments. Look at the crazy girl. Yes Look at the crazy girl, who fell in love with a painting. It was crazy from the start.

Clarke stands up, and all she sees is red. The hall is suddenly empty with only her. The silence is no longer comforting but deafening. She tries to hold back her tears, I want to see him again. She remembers she still has the ring he gave her. With her last little hope, she casts the spell on it.

To see him again.

And the ring turns into dust, then into sparkles causing her surrounding to spin. Her visions blurred, maybe she is becoming blind from all her tears.

As the spinning begins to slow down, everything begins to calm down. She recognizes this place. The warm lit room, the unfinished sculpture... Him.

She hastily walks toward him, she just wants to hold him. Touch him.

He is standing by the window staring out, it seems like he knows she is coming. He turns around swiftly. It's still Bellamy. He is still smiling. But he isn't him.

"Bell..."

"Shh.. Clarke," he holds her shoulder and lowers his head at her level. "I'm sure you know that this won't be long. What's gone is gone."

Her tears begin to pour out of her eyes again, tightly grasping the front of his shirt in her fists and whimpering "No no no no, Bellamy I can change this. I can change everything. Just let me..."

He pulls her into his hug, burying his face into her hair. "Clarke... Let me go."

She shakes her head violently trying to get out of his embrace; she needs to try something to make him stay. But he is too strong; he is keeping her in place no matter how she pushes and shakes, trying everything to struggle out of his arms. Finally she stops. There is no point.

"Clarke you know this is not right," he holds her a little longer. "I'm running out of time. So before I go, I want you to know that... I never regretted this, I never regretted us."

He pulls away and leans down toward her. She could count all the freckles across his nose, all the sparkles in his eyes, and all the strands of his thick lashes. How she adores them. How she is going to miss them.

She closes her eyes, tears still flowing. He wipes away her tears featherly light.

He kisses her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.

"Don't cry for me anymore, I love you, Clarke Griffin."

For the second time, he vanishes before her.

Her surrounding begins to spin again, but Clarke has already given up. All she could see is blue.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Finn realizes that he is lost in his trance, almost as if he is enchanted. He looks around.

What am I doing outside of the mansion?

Suddenly, he remembers that he needs to get rid of that painting. How could she leave him for a painting? He will not let that happen. As he rushes into the mansion, Raven, his ex-fiancee stops his track.

"Where are you going? The ball has just started." She smiles softly at him.

But the ball started an hour ago.

"What do you mean?" he says in an annoyed tone. "Whatever, leave me be, I need to find Clarke."

She looks confused, grabbing his arm. "Clarke? Who is that?"

He rolls his eyes, he needs to get to that painting. "We talked about this. The girl who caught us in bed together."

Raven looks shocked as if this is the first time hearing such news. "... What? No girl has done that."

"The blonde girl!" he tries to pry her hands off of his arms.

"The only blonde girl we both know is Harper, I don't know who you're talking about." She furrows her brows.

He shakes his head impatiently and ran to the main hall. But something is different, the painting... It's not the same. Instead of the sculptor and his sculpture, it's an aged underwater statue of a woman that resembles someone he thinks he used to know.