#100drabbles

[kurokoros]

Bellarke coffee shop au

All right, this is technically Miller and Bellamy talking about Clarke, so... enjoy? If I ever get back into the 100, I might write a slice of life type fic that includes this!

Miller doesn’t look at him as he enters the apartment--no, he just continues to bounce a tennis ball off the wall that Bellamy just fixed the other week. Asshole. “So how did it go with that cute waitress you like?” he asks casually, still not looking at Bellamy.

Bellamy sighs heavily, glancing down at the empty cup in his palm and the cute, curly, “B” written in black Sharpie along the side. He tosses his bag onto the table before answering. “Well, she wrote “Baloney” on my cup,” he says casually.

Miller catches the ball, but doesn’t throw it again. “Oh,” he murmurs wincing slightly.

“But I also got her phone number,” Bellamy tacks on, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Oh!”

[kurokoros]

"We’re in a library and you forgot to plug your headphones in so you’re music was playing loudly and I’m gonna take this moment to criticise your lack of musical taste" AU for Bellarke please and thank you!

3(ish) Sentence Fic (I hope this is what you meant it for! If not shoot me a message and I’ll expand on it!)

Clarke glares at the dark-haired stranger sitting across from her at the table, one hand on her phone (which is still playing music) and the other clenching her pencil so tightly she thinks it might break; and that would be just great--so fucking great--first she runs into Finn at the coffee shop, then she forgets to plug in her headphones, causing her music to blare in the nearly empty library, and now some (admittedly attractive) stranger is criticizing her life’s choice. “I’m sorry,” she hisses, eyes narrowing, “did you just imply that my taste in music is sub-par?” 

He blinks at her lazily, a smirk tugging at his lips (and Clarke totally wants to scream right now, but they’re still in a library). “I said your music sucks, yeah,” Clarke is about to argue, but he cuts her off before she can, “You were listening to James Blunt--I don’t think you can listen to anything worse than--”

“Tubthumping” starts to play--”I get knocked down!” echoes through the room, Clarke’s phone goes flying straight into the guys face, and Clarke is pretty sure she just died a little inside.

He--Bellamy, she learns-- does ask her out later through, saying he’s going to introduce her to some new--better, he promises--music.

And Clarke? She says yes.

[kurokoros]

Title: In a Week

Fandom: The 100

Pairing/Characters: Bellarke

Summary: They’ll return home as corpses, unmoving in the dirt and grass with their hands clasped loosely, but at least he’ll be home with her soon. (Based on Hozier’s song of the same name.)

Bellamy doesn’t know exactly how long he and Clarke have been lying here, years or hours, he supposes at this point it doesn’t matter much. Time isn’t important to them anymore. Besides, he’s never felt as peaceful as right now, on his back in the damp grass with Clarke, in such a deep sleep that it creeps through him like it never wants to let go. In a way, he never wants to move again, just stay here forever with Clarke and watch the sky bleed from red to blue to black and back again--the colors so much brighter than he’s ever known before. It’s beautiful, how quiet it is out here, away from the world.

He remembers them being thrown onto the grass to be found, bodies falling slowly and left in the fields to freeze at night and to thaw again in the day, the heat and the cold not biting into their skin as it should. They’ve been here so long that they’ve become a part of the land, flowers scattered across both him and Clarke--forget-me-nots, he things, small and as blue as her eyes as they blow in the breeze. Fitting, it seems. An eternal promise to remember even after they’ve become unmoving.

The sheep are still weary of their prone bodies, the cattle fearful of the unfamiliar smell and unmoving figures with their heartbeats long past slowing. He wonders if they’ll be found soon because of the animals, but is in no hurry to leave this place. There’s no reason for them to leave. Hunger touches them no more, not like it does the insects crawling across the dirt beneath them--hungry and wanting. They could stay here forever and just sleep.

Clarke hasn’t moved an inch that he’s seen, but then again neither has he. Their hands are still tangled somehow, both of them completely still with their skin growing cold in this endless sleep. Bellamy wishes he could squeeze her fingers with his or trace her palm with his thumb--intertwine their fingers once more, but both of their hands stay limp. His eyes lock with hers and she stares blankly back, unblinking and just as beautiful as she’s always been. The word “home” washes over him slowly, and he realizes he misses being there.

They’ll be found soon enough, he believes, in a week, as the weather grows hot and the buzzards begin to circle overhead. Then they can go home. He just wants to go home with Clarke and stay with her always, even as they become one with the flowers. They’d find them in a week, after the insects have claimed their bodies and the foxes have had their final taste. He’ll be home with her soon.

They’ll return home as corpses, unmoving in the dirt and grass with their hands clasped loosely, but at least he’ll be home with her soon.

[kurokoros]

Bellarke + "do you trust me?"

Clarke blinks at him, completely stunned. “I’m sorry, what?” she sputters, looking at him as if he’s grown two heads.

Bellamy rolls his eyes, leaning further down from the ledge he’s perched on, thrusting his hand closer to her. “Do you trust me?” he asks again, eyes locking with hers. When she says nothing he sighs and wiggles his fingers. “Clarke, do you trust me?”

She stares at him a moment longer before grasping his hand with hers. “Of course I trust you,” she tells him. “I always trust you.”

He sends her a roguish smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he tells her, hoisting her up on the ledge beside him, arm snaking around her waist.

Her arms curl around his neck as she snorts. “Bellamy, if you were going to throw me over the edge you would’ve done it by now.” His grin widens. “Besides,” she says, “I would take you down with me.”

He breathes a laugh against her ear. “Well, I guess it’s good for us both that I wasn’t planning on murder today.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond as he grabs her tighter and steps backwards off the ledge, sending them both spiraling to the ground.

She trusts him though, so she knows they’ll make it to the ground safe.

[kurokoros]

...(god I'm gonna regret this I told you I was in a fragile state now but I CANT RESIST) bellarke+ "I have to go" ;__;

fuck you kaeli who said you could do this

Bellamy is barely breathing by the time Clarke drops to her knees beside him, hands hovering over his broken body because there’s blood everywhere and she doesn’t know where to touch him without hurting him. She settles with placing her shaking hands against his cheeks, thumbs brushing his skin slowly, smearing blood across with every stroke of her thumb.

She isn’t sure if it’s hers or his or someone else’s but her heart breaks either way. This isn’t fair. None of this is fair.

Bellamy wheezes as he stares up at her with wild eyes, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a broken cracking sound.

She shakes her head as he tries to speak again. “Bellamy” she breathes, “Bellamy, don’t. Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She’s lying. She’s lying and she knows it, and he knows it too. Clarke thinks he nods at her words but she can’t see through the tears blurring her vision.

“Clarke,” he chokes, eyes wide and desperate as they search hers. “Clarke.” She shakes her head, leaning further over him, hands trembling violently now, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

There was a time she would have been ashamed to cry like this, but she doesn’t have the heart to cry, not now while Bellamy is lying on the ground, choking on blood and bleeding from so many different wounds.

Clarke knows she should do something to try and stop the bleeding, but it’s like all thought has left her and she can’t even breathe.

“Clarke,” he whispers her name a third time, looking right through her. 

She knows that look--has seen it a thousand times in the eyes of dying men and women and she nearly screams as he blinks up at her blindly. “Bellamy, hey, look at me, Bellamy, please, just look at me,” she begs him, voice raising as she shakes him lightly, patting his cheeks to gain his attention. “Bellamy!” His eyes slide to the side, head heavy in her hands.

“ ‘av to go,” he slurs, head lolling to one side.

“What?” she murmurs, righting him.

“I have to go.” He sounds far away now as if he’s already gone.

She shakes her head frantically. “No. No, no, no--Bellamy!” she screams. “Bellamy!”

He doesn’t respond. His chest doesn’t rise and fall as it should and his heart isn’t beating in his chest. Clarke sobs, dropping her head down to his chest unable to control the violent screams tearing out of her throat as she shakes. Her fingers curl into his jacket--the same damn jacket that he’s always worn--digging into the fabric so tightly that she thinks it might rip.

“Don’t go,” she pleads. “Bellamy, please don’t go. Come back to me.”

He doesn’t.

[kurokoros]

"I need a Drink." BELLARKE PLEASE GOODNESS I DONT EVEN KNOW IF YOU WRITE THEM OR NOT BUT I FEEL LIKE YOU MIGHT LIKE TO TRY OR MAYBE IM JUST PROJECTING

Bellamy sinks down to the ground next to her, panting and covered in sweet, blood smeared across his cheek and clothes, hair messier than usual. Clarke blinks at him through blurry eyes and hair that’s stuck to her face. He doesn’t look at her, just keeps staring straight ahead, as if waiting for someone else to attack them, even though the field is already covered in blood and bodies.

It’s over.

It’s all over.

Clarke’s hand slips off her lap onto the grass, fingers blindly groping for his and latching on once she finds him. She briefly wonders if it seems desperate to hold him so tight, but she doesn’t really care because she is desperate. She’s missed him and it’s taken her this long to realize how much it hurts being away from him. She’s not letting go again for a long time. Bellamy’s palm is warm against hers, steady as hers shakes, nails biting into his skin as she squeezes. He squeezes back twice as strong, thumb sweeping across her skin slowly, back and forth and so gentle that her heart leaps into her throat.

Bellamy doesn’t say anything and neither does she. She glances at his briefly, but his eyes are closed, his breathing more even than before. 

Clarke inhales deeply, relaxing and dropping her head against his shoulder, Bellamy shifting slightly to rest his head against hers. Clarke loosens the death grip on his hand, but doesn’t let go. Even if she wanted to, Bellamy still has his fingers entwined with hers, in no hurry to let go anytime soon. She smiles slightly, eyes slipping shut as she sighs.

“Hey, Bellamy?” she finally whispers, voice sounding all too loud in the quiet and stillness surrounding them.

Bellamy’s fingers tighten around hers and he hums low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her ear. He says nothing though, merely waiting for her to continue.

Her eyes blink open and she stares down at their hands, wiggling her hand out of his before flipping his over and dragging it onto her lap, thumb tracing along the lifeline on his palm. Bellamy shifts again and she knows he’s watching her as she plays with his fingers, but she can’t bring herself to care about how strange this is for the both of them. It feels right to have his hand in hers and he’s alive and that’s all that matters to her right now. 

For a moment, she says nothing, and then-- “I think I need that drink now.”

He stiffens suddenly and Clarke bites her lip as she thinks about last time.

She isn’t leaving though, not again.

Bellamy’s shoulders start to shake and Clarke grasps his hand tightly, afraid he’ll pull away. Then she hears it.

Laughter.

Bellamy’s laughter.

Clarke could cry as his fingers curl around hers.

“yeah,” he breathes back. “Let’s do that.”

[kurokoros]

"I never really loved you" + Bellarke (bc I hate myself)

“I never really loved you,” Clarke tells him, voice cold as ice and eyes even colder. She hates herself for the lie and how all she ever does is hurt him. She hates that things have to be this way and that she needs him to hate her right now--and that he’ll probably never forgive her for this. She hates herself for the way he flinches, eyes wide and wounded, hands trembling at his sides before he stiffens. 

In a second the vulnerability is gone. His eyes turn steely, a burning heat in them that nearly melts the ice in hers. His jaw locks, teeth grinding together, and his hands clench into fists. Bellamy takes a step back from her and she can practically she the wall building between them--one that she can’t climb this time. 

He takes another step back, shaking his head. “So that’s it then,” he says more than asks. “You’re just going to walk away now, just like you always do.” He tosses his head back with a laugh so bitter that she flinches at the sound. “You know, Clarke, you might have never loved me, but I certainly love you.”

Clarke doesn’t miss how he says “love” instead of “loved.” She swallows thickly, taking a step towards him. “Bellamy--”

“Don’t,” he cuts her off harshly, practically snarling. “I don’t wanna hear anything you have to say anymore.” He laughs again. “I should have seen this coming. I really should’ve.” He locks eyes with her and the pure rage in his eyes steals the breath from her lungs. “Because this is just like you, Clarke.” He takes two steps forward, crossing the distance between them until he’s right in her face. “You use people up until there’s nothing left and then you spit them back out.”

She wants to argue but can’t find the words, and, God, he’s right, isn’t he? She does use people until there’s nothing left, but it’s not like that with him. He’s different. Bellamy has always been different--at least to her.

“Goodbye, Clarke,” he bites sarcastically, smiling at her. He turns and walks away before she can stop him.

“Bye, Bellamy,” she whispers after he’s gone. “I certainly love you, too.”