The 100: Preferences and Imagines

6. Your First Kiss

Bellamy: "Bellamy!" you shout over the clamor of people rushing to their tents. "What's happening?"

"Y/N" he murmurs, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You're tempted to melt into the hug, but you pull away. 

"What's going on, Bell?"

"The Grounders are attacking at first light tomorrow morning."

Your mouth goes dry. "What?" you breathe, stumbling backward, away from him. 

"Y/N... Y/N!" 

Bellamy grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. You turn to look into his eyes. Your own are dripping with tears fueled by terror. 

"We're all dying tomorrow."

"No. We've been through this before. We made it out alive then, we will now."

You do your best not to heave up bile all over the soil. 

"I won't let you die, Y/N."

He hugs you again, and this time you slump into his chest. You just want to stay here forever. The whole world can wage their wars and destroy everything you know, as long as you can be safe in Bellamy's arms. 

"Hey," he whispers, lifting your chin up. "In case we die tomorrow."

With those words, he gently presses his lips to yours, and you lean into him.

"We're not dying tomorrow," you assure him. 

Murphy: "John, calm down."

"We're trapped."

"John-"

"We're gonna die in this stupid place."

"John..."

"What? What?!" he shouts before tipping half a bottle of whiskey down his throat and proceeding to cough violently. 

He pauses, then turns to see the tear rolling down your cheek. 

"Hey- I'm sorry, Y/N."

You nod. "I'm not crying because of you John. I think your ego needs a trim."

You crack a smile, and he laughs, just a little. 

He picks up the bottle and swishes the dark liquid inside. "Down the hatch," he whispers before taking another swig. 

You move to the couch and stretch your legs out. Might as well be comfortable if you're going to starve. 

John walks over when he's finished drowning his feelings. He looks at your legs taking up all the space, and then back to you.

"You gonna move, or do I have to make you?"

You raise your eyebrows and smirk. 

"Fine."

You expect him to just slide you around a little, or maybe lift your legs up and sit under them. But he scoops you up, bridal style, sits down and places you on his lap. 

"You know, there's plenty of space," you tease him. 

But he doesn't have a snarky reply. He just rests his forehead on yours. "I wouldn't want to die slowly in a bunker with anyone else," he says.

You tilt your head up ever so slightly and kiss him. 

He kisses you back. You're not surprised at all. 

"There's enough alcohol on your breath to get me drunk," you say.

John laughs into your lips.