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...
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***
"Clarke!"
"Clarke!"
The sound of a frantic voice pulled Clarke back from unconsciousness. Her eyes opened, she was lying on the ground, Bellamy Blake looming over her, black blood dripping from his nose.
They had made it back. She never thought they would. She remembered it now, Bellamy desperate to follow Clarke to the tower, desperate to be a nightblood.
Now more than ever Clarke was glad she had let him. They had missed their ride, and if Bellamy wasn't here Clarke would have been all alone. Literally.
Bellamy sighed with relief, savouring the look of the girl's bright green eyes.
He had thought she died. They had both crawled back into Becca's lab, coughing blood, close to death. He remembered curling up next to Clarke, accepting that if he were to die he'd rather do it by her side. But when he woke up, and saw he had survived, he assumed the worse for Clarke.
"Hey Princess." Clarke could hear the relief in his voice.
Bellamy hadn't called her that for years, but god was she glad to hear it.
"Hey." Her voice was weaker than she expected.
Bellamy helped her into a seated position. The room spun.
"What happened?" She asked him, unconsciously pulling the sleeve of her shirt over her hand and wiping the blood from his nose.
Bellamy was struck by the tenderness of the moment. He could barley talk.
"We um- I thought- I thought the nightblood didn't work." He explained, his voice gruff.
"I thought the radiation would kill us, but it didn't."
"We're alive, Clarke."
Clarke couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she pulled the boy into her arms.
