Just a bunch of angsty, saucy, fluffy short stories about everyone's favourite slow burn ship. Literally slow burn- CENTURIES OLD. Add this bad boi to your library if you want some wish fulfilment bellarke, skip around, enjoy the emotional torment f...
*it's what we deserve* *inspired by this post by yourereallyhere on tumblr*
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And this request by @_xxbellarkexx_
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*set during day trip: our first taste of bellarke™️* ***
Bellamy watched as Clarke swiftly pulled her hair away from her face and into a pony tail. She then proceeded to splint one of the hunting party's injured ankles.
As much as he hated to admit it Clarke Griffin was a badass.
And as much as he wanted to stop her from welcoming the people who locked his sister up to the ground, he knew they needed her.
Bellamy waited until Clarke moved away from the injured kid to speak to her.
"Thanks for that." He said, grudgingly as she approached him.
Clarke smiled at him knowingly.
"You don't have to thank me. Plus without your hunting party we'd be toast." She said, fiddling with her hands nervously.
"You're doing a good job, Clarke." Bellamy said with earnest.
Clarke sighed, long and heavy.
"Not good enough." She said adamantly, pulling him into a secluded corner, by the sleeve of his shirt.
"I need your help." She told him, looking into his forlorn brown eyes.
Bellamy hadn't been the same since the 300 were killed on the Ark.
He was less sure of himself, more filled with regret. Clarke could see his pain.
"I'm not talking to Jaha, Clarke. He'll sentence me to death the second he sees my face. And though I'm not particularly fond of living; I need to be around to protect Octavia, from herself if not from that grounder." He admitted.
