Bellamy Blake Imagines

Hope Amongst The Despair

Your running ceased immediately, your feet skidding to an abrupt stop as your eyes caught a glimpse of a tall, broad-shouldered guard stood at the opposite end of the corridor. He was dressed in a regular, beige guard uniform, the cream of the cap atop his head eclipsing his shadowed features. He seemed to have noticed you, the halt of his brisk jog falling short as he stood frozen too.

He must've known that you were one of the 48 out of 100 that Mount Weather had captured - everyone knew all the faces of the 48 teenagers. But, he remained still. He didn't reach for his walkie-talkie hanging off his belt, he didn't shout for you to stop, he didn't step forward to grab you and carry you off elsewhere like all the other guards had attempted to do when they realised you were all trying to make your escape.

That's where you had been running from previously. Jasper's plan to take over level 5 and start a riot had worked for the most part until you all had to relocate elsewhere due to not having enough weapons or security; you were all split up and you found yourself hiding out with Monty and 10 others in a room belonging to two kind elders who largely disapproved of Cage Wallace's plans. That was when the guards came in, guns at the ready and death carried in their hands as they shot both Mrs and Mr. Ryan dead right in front of you.

You, along with some others, had hidden - but they hadn't been so lucky. You watched the guards handcuff them, and lead them away. Hidden behind the wall, you itched to jump out, fight the guards and free your friends; you knew that was stupid, however, you didn't have any weapons and you could hardly fight in the state you were in. Instead, you promised yourself to wait until they were out of sight, find Vincent (Maya's father) and come up with a sensible plan to help them.

That led to where you currently resided, caught red-handed under the stare of a guard. You were conflicted, unsure whether to limp away and risk getting caught, or whether to try and talk yourself out of it and risk getting caught. The guard lifted his hand, and you took a step back - cowering back under the bleach lights of the mountain. But instead of reaching for a weapon, he pulled the cap off his head and the sudden light projecting rays upon his dark features knocked the air from your lungs.

"Bellamy?"

Dark eyes, eclipsed with the burden of dire pressure and stress, bored into yours in the midst of wrecked havoc - and your breath hitched in your throat.

You almost wanted to squeeze your wide eyes shut and adamantly shake your dizzy head, an attempt to rid yourself of this cruel hallucination. Maybe it was just how much you missed him. Your mind was playing a ruthless trick, playing on the fact that you wanted him there with you more than anything. He'd know what to do, he'd come up with a plan even after the first three didn't work out, he'd reassure you that there was hope amongst the despair brought about by the men of Mount Weather.

"(Y/N)," But when he spoke your name, the syllables saturated with such relief that it brought the sting of heavy tears to your wide eyes, you knew he was really there. After what seemed like a lifetime of restlessness and apprehension and standing on shaky legs, barely breathing, the sound reverberated against your eardrums. At that moment, it felt as if all the weight pressing harshly down upon your chest dissipated into the merciless mountain.

"Oh my God, Bell," You let out a sharp breath adequate with the utmost, cutting emotions of astonishment and assurance. And then, your feet took off sprinting, ignoring the pained burning of your thigh under the burdened pressure - all that was on your mind was the fact that the person you loved with everything you had was standing right in front of you. The sound of your shoes slapping against the hard floor echoed up into the alleviated aroma of the air as you darted, collapsing into the safety of Bellamy's open arms.

"Oh, thank God," He muttered into your hair, his arms tightening their lock on your figure to the point where it was getting difficult to breathe. You didn't mind, not at all, only squeezing the arms wound around his middle just as tightly and burying your face into the crook of his neck. You let out a bubble of angelic laughter, the tears dancing on your waterline finally making their journey down your cheeks and dampening the material of his shirt - not that he cared, he just held you closer and soaked up the relief seeing you again settled in him.

You felt his hand cradling the back of your head gently, his fingers getting lost in the silky strands of your (y/h/c) hair, and drew back a little, sniffling lightly. Your glassy eyes peered up at him, shining with such contentment (despite the situation) and revelling in the adoring smile tugging at his lips, "I can't believe you're actually here," You whispered with a blissful beam, "Jasper told me he saw you when they came into our dorm but I was knocked out; I didn't believe him."

The thumb tracing faint, comforting circles on the expanse of your hip froze at your words, and the smile gracing his features grew serious, "Why were you knocked out?" His relieved tone suddenly morphing into one so utterly vigilant and protective over you and your well-being.

An agonising pause.

Your trembling fingers then clutched at his shirt, your teary eyes darting down toward your upper thigh before squeezing shut, trying to block out the rest of the maniacal world and focus solely on Bellamy. The breaths leaving your lips fastened at the eerie memories, the question hanging in the tense air provoking the (unfortunately familiar) heavy weight to crush down on the rapid rise and fall of your chest. "I- They-" Panic began to set in, the screeching sound of the haunting drill beginning to ring ruthlessly in your ears, "T-The drill, they wanted our bone marrow. I-I don't - I-"

You were cut off, the sound of Bellamy's soft voice coaxing you back from the hindering nightmare, "Hey, hey," The light pressure of his hands were relocated to cup your damp cheeks, the calloused pads of his thumbs gently swiping the tears from your skin, "You're alright, you're okay. I got you; just breathe,"

You tried desperately to focus on the love carved into the gentle touch of his hands between the ghosted feel of the drill carving into your bones and the sound of assurance and belief in his tone between the echoes of your own screams of agony in your head. It took a few minutes, the help of your boyfriend's reassuring, sweet nothings providing you with extra support, and the erratic mess of your accelerated breath began to calm down.

Your eyes fluttered open, finding themselves already connected with the concern swirling in the dark hues of Bellamy's. You had to trap your trembling bottom lip between your teeth as you gazed up at him; you didn't necessarily want to admit it aloud, but Mount Weather had broken you - and now Bellamy knew it too.

He let out a sigh, pressing a lingering kiss adequate with what seemed like years worth of love and relief to your forehead, before bringing you back into the comfort of his arms. Your fists found themselves clenched in the fabric of his shirt and your forehead leaning against his chest, still worked up and shaky from the episode a few moments prior. Bellamy's chin rested upon the top of your head, his jaw clenched with a dangerous fury that he tried so hard to keep concealed at that moment in time.

"I'm gonna get you out of here," He spoke lowly, the promise slipping from his lips hiding the dark, menacing threat that he would find the person that did this to you, and there would be hell to pay.

↱ by holystilinski ↲