frenemies - bellamy blake
pairing : bellamy blake x finn's sister !reader
word count : 8.8 k
warnings : some smut MINORS DNI you lil freaks, hella angst
God, Bellamy Blake hates you.
Like a spiteful rage simmering at all times, the hate he feels for you is sudden and unavoidable.
Ever since he saw you in that dropship, huddled with your brother. He hated you. Hated that gleeful look on your face when you touched ground. Hated the way you tried to help all the time. Hated the way you did your best to learn from Clarke and help with the Medicinal issues.
He specifically hated the way your hair bounced when you ran, the way your clothes hugged you just right, and the way your lips were so round and plump and kissable.
He doesn't like you.
He doesn't like how you looks at him like you'be already sees every bad thing he's done.
He doesn't like how you stands next to Clarke like a shield.
He doesn't like how you aren't afraid of him when everyone else is.
You hit a nerve he didn’t know he had.
You hate him.
He hates you.
That should make things simple.
It doesn’t.
Not when you talk to Clarke with that kind of softness. Not when you touch Jasper’s forehead with steady hands while everyone else panics. Not when you snap at him with fire in your eyes and don't flinch when he gets in you face.
What kind of girl grows up in the Skybox and comes out with that kind of spine?
You're dangerous. Not because you'll hurt him. Because he doesn't know what you're doing to him. He doesn't believe anything you say. Especially not when it's tumbling out of you, in between breathy moans, his hands on your hips as he urges you to ride him harder.
"Fuck," He groans, his hands flying to your ass, his fingers digging into your soft flesh to hold you steady. The sound of your bodies slapping together fills the small tent, a wet, frantic rhythm that's the only thing he can hear. You're panting in his ear, your breath hot and ragged, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“Hmm- Bellamy.” You whimper, biting down on his shoulder as he feels his cock hit the hilt of you pussy, that one spongey spot deep inside that always leaves you whimpering.
"That's it," He pants, his voice a raw, guttural sound. "Good girl. Good girl." You whine, shaking your head.
“Fuck, it’s too much.” Your eyes roll back as his hands on your ass help you bounce. “You’re so fucking hot. Fuck, I hate you.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut and coiling your fingers in his hair. The words are a contradiction, a perfect, fucked-up summary of whatever this is between you two.
And they're the hottest thing Bellamy has ever heard.
"No, you don't," He growls in you ear, his grip on your ass tightening.He lifts you slightly, then slams you back down, his own hips thrusting up to meet yours. The new, brutal force makes you cry out. "You don't hate this. You don't hate the way I'm stretching you, the way I'm filling you up. You hate that you love it so much."
"No I do, i do- Fuck. God, fuck you." You sob, your body going limp for a second before you starts bouncing again with renewed desperation. "I hate you. I fucking hate you." Your sobs are music to his ears, a raw, broken symphony of pleasure and pain. Every hateful word is a confession, every desperate sob a testament to the power he has over you. And he's going to make you sing.
"Then hate me harder," You snarl, his voice rough with his own desperation. He lets go of your ass with one hand, bringing it up to tangle in your hair, and he pulls your head back, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are wild, unfocused, glazed over with a lust so thick it's almost tangible.
"Look at me," He commands, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Look at me while you're fucking me. Look at the man you hate so much while you're riding his cock." You do. Your eyes lock onto his, and the sheer, unadulterated hatred mixed with a desperate, pleading need in them is his undoing. He's so close to the edge he can taste it.
"I hate you," You repeat, your voice a broken, desperate sob. "I hate you so much." Your words sting, he'll admit, but then your walls clamp down on him and you whimpers.
“God, fuck- I’m so close. God Bellamy-” You body is giving out, the frantic energy draining away, replaced by a desperate, pleading exhaustion. You guide his hands to your hips and sit back, your weight settling on his, and he takes that as his cue.
This is no longer your show.
It's his.
He grabs hold of your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, and he takes over. He moves you, lifting you up and slamming you back down onto his cock, his own hips thrusting up to meet yours. The new angle is brutal, perfect, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes you cry out every time. Your body is spent, a ragdoll in his hands, completely at his mercy. Your hands fly to his hair, your fingers coiling in the strands, holding on for dear life as he fucks you.
"That's it," I pant, my voice a raw, guttural sound. "Just like that. Take it. Fuckin' take it, baby." You can't answer. You can only whimper, a series of broken, desperate sounds that are the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.
Your head falls back, your body arching, a perfect, taut bow of pleasure and submission. He can feel you getting closer, your inner walls starting to flutter and clench around his, a frantic, rhythmic pulse that's pulling him right along with you.
That's all it takes.
You shatter, your body convulsing, a loud, unrestrained scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. The feel of you coming undone around him, the rhythmic clenching of your inner muscles, is too much. With a final, desperate cry, he buries himself deep and come, a hoarse shout tearing from his own throat as he pours himself into you. You collapse against each other, your bodies trembling, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. He stays inside you for a long moment, his forehead resting against yours, both of you struggling to catch your breath.
Finally, you slump against him, you body completely limp. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his cock still buried deep inside you. You're quiet for a long time, your breathing slowly returning to normal. Finally, you pull back, your body still trembling. You looks down at him, your eyes dark and sated, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across your lips. "I still hate you," You say, your voice a husky purr. He smiles, leaning up to kiss you. “Sure you do, Princess.”
Oh yeah.
Bellamy fucking hated you.
------
The next day, it was business as usual.
And that meant that you two were biting each other's heads off in the middle of the camp, your brother Finn holding you back as rage simmered beneath your skin like a living thing. Bellamy and you had an agreement.
Sex and nothing more.
It was just a way to blow off steam, instead of yelling at each other all the time. But there was no use denying the pull you felt to him. Finn stepped between you, his hands on your shoulders, trying to keep you from lunging at Bellamy.
"Come on, just cool down," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos inside you. Bellamy's voice cut through the air, sharp and cutting.
"You're always so quick to jump to conclusions. Maybe you should just mind your own business." You wrenched yourself free from Finn's grip, your voice rising to match Bellamy's.
"My business? You're my business when you're acting like a child!" The camp fell silent, all eyes on the two of you. You could feel the weight of their stares, but you didn't care. You were beyond caring about anything but the rage and the need that were warring inside you. Bellamy stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous.
"You think you know me? You don't know a damn thing about me."
"You're right," you spat, your heart pounding. "I don't need to know you to know that you're an asshole." You spat. You shrugged away from Finn, grabbing your bow and arrow off the floor.
"Hey, wait-" Finn calls your name. "Where are you going ?"
"To clear my head ! I can't be around this fucking asshole any longer !" You yell back, moving to the woods. Bellamy calls out after you.
"That's a dumb idea, sweetheart ! It's not safe out there !" You flipped him the middle finger without looking back at him. As you stormed off into the woods, the anger and frustration that had been building inside you finally found a release. The forest swallowed you up, and you welcomed the solitude. You needed to get away from Bellamy, from the way he made you feel. You hated him for making you vulnerable, for making you question everything. The trees seemed to close in around you, their branches reaching out like protective arms. You walked deeper into the forest, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath your feet. The cool air felt good on your skin, and you took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart. You found a clearing and stopped, leaning against a tree. You let your bow and arrow slip from your grasp, and they clattered to the ground. You slid down the rough bark, your back hitting the earth with a thud. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly. You hated him for his stubbornness, for his inability to see past his own pain. But you also hated yourself for caring, for wanting more than just hate sex. It was a toxic cycle, one that you couldn't seem to break free from. You knew you had to focus on the present, on the task at hand. But your mind kept drifting back to Bellamy, to the argument, to the way his eyes had flashed with a mix of anger and something else—something you weren't ready to acknowledge. With a deep breath, you pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the forest around you. The sounds of nature were soothing, a gentle reminder that you were part of something bigger. You closed your eyes, letting the tranquility of the woods seep into your soul. But even as you tried to find peace, you couldn't escape the pull you felt towards Bellamy. It was like a magnet, drawing you back to him, no matter how hard you tried to resist. You knew you had to confront these feelings, to face the truth about what was happening between you. You stood up, brushing the dirt off your clothes, and picked up your bow and arrow. You were out here, might as well get something for the camp to eat tonight.
----- The night is quiet, almost too quiet. Bellamy is perched on the watchtower, his rifle resting across his lap, his eyes scanning the dark tree line. It’s in moments like this, when the camp is asleep and the world is holding its breath, that his mind drifts to you. The constant, infuriating, intoxicating thorn in his side. A shout from the gate pulls him from his thoughts.
"Someone's coming!' Bellamy is down the ladder and across the compound before the voice even fades. His heart is hammering, a primal fear gripping him. He sees a figure stumbling out of the woods, lurching towards the gate. It's small, slight, and it's moving with a pained, uneven gait. As they get closer, he hears it—the sound of ragged, choked sobs.
"'Who is it?' His voice is tight with apprehension. The figure stumbles into the circle of firelight, and his blood runs cold. It's a girl, crying hysterically, her face a mask of pain and terror. Her pants are shredded from the knee down, and her leg is a mess of deep, ugly gashes, still oozing blood in the flickering light. He rushes forward, his mind racing, trying to place her.
Who is she?
Who would be out here alone?
She looks up, her tear-streaked face finding his in the chaos. Her eyes, wide with pain and fear, lock onto him, and for a second, the world stops.
It's you.
He had almost forgotten you'd stormed off. Assumed you'd come back and had been avoiding him all day.
"'Bellamy!' The name is a raw, desperate scream torn from your throat. Before he can even process it, your legs give out. You collapse to the ground in a heap, a fresh wave of sobs wracking you body as you clutches your mangled leg. Bellamy skids to a stop beside you, hands hovering uselessly unaware of what to do.
"Hey, hey, look at me. What happened? What did this?' He drops to his knees beside you, the panic a physical thing, a hot, suffocating wave that threatens to drown him.
"Boar." You rasp. "I'm sorry, i should've- I should've come back-"
"Shh, don't be sorry." He mutters, staring between your face and your leg. "Just… just stay still. We need to get you to the dropship. Now.' He reaches for you, intending to scoop you up, but you flinche away, a sharp cry of pain escaping you lips. The movement snaps you out of your hysteria, and he sees it. It’s not anger in your eyes, not the usual fiery defiance. It's a deep, bone-chilling fear, but it's not for the boar, not for your injuries.
It's for him.
Or rather, for what his presence means.
"I need you to go get Finn. And Clarke. I can’t-" You gasp, gripping your leg. You cry out in pain as you shift. "I can’t sew this up myself, I need her help." The words are a logical, tactical request. You needs you brother for comfort and Clarke for her medical skills.
It makes perfect sense.
So why does it feel like you've just plunged a knife into his chest?
Go get them. It’s a dismissal.
A way to send him away, to put distance between them while you're vulnerable. You're not just hurt; you're exposed. And you don't want him to see it.
'I'm not leaving you," He breathes, his voice low and unyielding.
'Please. Just go." You whimper, the pain shooting up your leg in waves of horrific pain. "It'll be faster. You're just making it worse by hovering.'
"'I'm not hovering, I'm helping!" he snaps at you. "And I'm not leaving you here alone to bleed out!'
"I'm not going to bleed out, I'm just—ah, fuck!" Another wave of pain hits you, and you squeeze your eyes shut.
"Stop fighting me. Let me help you." He whispers. You open your eyes, and for a second, the mask cracks. He sees it all—the terror, the pain, and a deep, desperate longing that mirrors his own. But it's gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by that stubborn wall.
"Finn!'"You scream suddenly. Your voice is raw. "Finn!" The name is like a slap in the face.
You're not just asking, you're calling for him like Bellamy isn't even there. His jaw clenches, a fresh wave of panic and something else—something sharp and painful—rising in his throat.
Fine.
If that's what you wants
Bellamy roars, "Finn! Clarke! Get your asses to the gate, now!" His voice echoes through the quiet camp. Within seconds, he sees them emerging from their tents, their faces etched with concern. As they rush over, he drops back down to his knees beside you, his body a raw, tense coil of anxiety.
He's not leaving.
He doesn't care what you say.
He doesn't care if you hate him for it. Though he doubts you could hate him anymore than you already do.
He's not moving.
Clarke is the first to arrive, dropping to the ground opposite him, her medical bag already in hand.
Clarke says, "Oh my god, what happened?"
"Boar." You manage, your gaze flickering between Clarke and Bellamy, a look of helpless frustration on your face. Finn skids to a halt beside you, his face pale.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," You lie , voice trembling as Clarke starts gently probing the edges of the deepest gash. You cry out, you hand shooting out and grabbing onto the first thing you can find—Bellamy's arm. Your fingers dig into his bicep, a desperate, painful grip, but he doesn't pull away. He just kneels there, letting you hold on, his heart breaking with every pained sound you make.
Clarke says, "We need to get her to the dropship. Bellamy, you're going to have to carry her. Try to keep her leg as still as possible." This time, you doesn't protest. You just look at him, your eyes wide with pain and a deep, terrifying vulnerability that you can no longer hide. You know you doesn't have a choice.
You need him.
And that thought rattles you to your very core.
He nods, his throat too tight to speak. He carefully slides one arm under your shoulders and another under your knees, lifting you as smoothly as he can. You whimper, burying your face in his neck, your body trembling against his.
As he carries you towards the dropship, your breath warm against his skin, your grip on his shirt never loosens.
You called for him first. You might be pushing him away with your words, but with your body, with your instincts, you're pulling him close. And the thought makes you so unbelievably angry.
Your body has betrayed you.
And he knows, with a certainty that settles deep in his bones, that this is more than hate. This is fear. You're afraid of what he means to you, afraid of how much power he has over you. But as he holds you in his arms, he also knows this: He's more afraid of losing you. And he'll be here to catch you, every single time.
The thought hits him like a freight train.
All those arguments, all those fights he's had with you.
They weren't because he hates you.
They were because he loves you.
Clarke motions for Bellamy to put you down on the table, and you cry out in pain at the new angle on your leg.
"Shit !" You cry out, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Finn is by your side immediately, brushing your hair away from your forehead with an open palm as Clarke tears open the leg of your pants. Clarke works quickly, her hands steady and sure as she assesses the damage. The room is filled with a tense silence, broken only by your occasional gasps of pain and Clarke's murmured instructions. Finn stands by your side, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your agony. Bellamy watches from a few feet away, his eyes never leaving you, a mix of concern and something deeper etched on his face.
"Alright, I need to clean this up," Clarke says, her voice calm and professional. "It's going to hurt, but I need you to stay still." You nod, biting your lip to suppress a cry as Clarke begins to clean the wounds. The sting of the antiseptic is almost welcome, a distraction from the deeper, more profound pain that courses through you. Finn takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your palm. You cling to him, drawing strength from his presence. Bellamy, unable to stand idly by, steps closer.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asks, his voice low and tense. Clarke glances up at him, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.
"Just keep her calm. Talk to her, distract her if you can." Bellamy nods, turning his attention back to you.
"Hey," he says softly, his voice a gentle caress. "You're doing great. Just a little longer, and then we'll get you patched up." You meet his gaze, and for a moment, the world outside fades away. There's only the two of you, locked in a silent conversation that speaks volumes. You see the fear in his eyes, the raw vulnerability that he usually keeps hidden behind a wall of anger and defiance. And you realize, with a jolt, that he's just as afraid as you are. Afraid of losing you, afraid of the power you have over him. You bark out a laugh, wincing.
"God, i like you better when you're a dick." You rasp, shaking your head, hiding behind the false hate you hold for him. Bellamy's chest tightens. He sucks in a heavy breath, backing away from you. He watches in horror as Clarke pours wound disinfectant over you leg and you scream, hands shaking as you grip onto your brother. You don't want him here. But a part of you never wants him to leave.
With every scream, Bellamy feels like his chest is being split open. Clarke tightens a bandage around your leg, and you shriek in pain. Bellamy moves before he understands what he's doing.
"Jesus, enough !" He yells, grabbing Clarke's wrist and shoving her away from you. "Can't you see you're hurting her ? She's fucking screaming for god's sake !" He yells in her face, his tone sharp. "You can wrap it later- just give her a fucking breather-"
"Clarke!" Finn barks from behind him. Bellamy twists around, only to see you, head limp on the table, colour leaving your face so fast Bellamy thinks his vision is playing tricks on him. "She's- She won't wake up-" Clarke manages to push away from Bellamy. He's rooted in place, shaking.
"She probably passed out from pain, or from blood loss." Bellamy's heart hammers in his chest as he stares at you, your face pale and lifeless. The room seems to spin, and for a moment, he can't breathe. Clarke's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.
"Bellamy, I need you to help me move her to a more comfortable position. Finn, grab those blankets over there and put them under her head to elevate it slightly." Bellamy nods, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as he helps Clarke adjust your position. Finn rushes to comply, his face etched with worry as he gently places the blankets under your head. Clarke checks your pulse, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Her pulse is weak, but steady," she murmurs, more to herself than to anyone else. "We need to keep her warm and monitor her closely." Bellamy feels a surge of panic.
"Is she going to be okay?" he asks, his voice hoarse with emotion. Clarke looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and concern.
"She will be. We just need to give her time to recover. The shock and blood loss are taking their toll, but she's a fighter. She'll pull through."
Finn nods in agreement, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. "She's always been strong. She'll come back to us." Bellamy wants to believe them, but the sight of you, so still and vulnerable, sends a chill down his spine. He takes your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.
"You hear that?" he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "You're strong. You're going to be okay. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." The room falls into a tense silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of instructions from Clarke and the soft beeps of a makeshift monitor she's set up to track your vital signs. Bellamy stays by your side, his presence a constant, unyielding support. He watches your chest rise and fall with each breath, counting the seconds between each inhale, willing you to wake up. Hours pass like minutes, and the tension in the room begins to ease slightly as your vital signs stabilize. Clarke checks on you regularly, her movements efficient and calm. Finn sits on the other side of you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder, a silent sentinel guarding your rest. Bellamy leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving your face. He thinks about all the moments they've shared, the fights, the passion, the undeniable connection that binds them together. He realizes now that every argument, every heated exchange, was a battle against the feelings that threatened to consume them both. He was afraid of loving you, of being vulnerable, of losing control. But seeing you like this, so fragile and broken, he understands that the fear of losing you is far greater than any fear of loving you. As the night wears on, you begin to stir, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, confused eyes. Bellamy leans in closer, his voice a soft murmur.
"Hey, you're okay. You're safe. We're right here." You blink, your gaze focusing on him, and for a moment, there's a raw, unguarded vulnerability in your eyes.
"Bellamy…" you whisper, your voice barely audible.
"I'm here," he replies, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere." You nod weakly, your eyes fluttering closed again as exhaustion claims you. Bellamy takes your hand once more, holding it tightly, a silent promise that he will be there when you wake up, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
-----
The days after you wake up bleed into a monotonous cycle of pain, boredom, and Bellamy. He's a relentless, hovering shadow, a constant reminder of your weakness. On the fifth day, You've had enough. You're sick of being coddled, sick of being treated like your made of glass.
You need to move.
You need to breathe.
You swing your legs over the side of the cot they put you on, gritting yout teeth against the sharp protest from your injured leg. The stitches pull, a hot, searing pain, but you ignore it. You slowly push yourself to your feet, your body trembling with the effort.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice is a low, dangerous growl from the doorway.
You didn't even hear him come in.
Of course, he's here.
"I'm getting up," You say through gritted teeth, not turning to look at him. "I'm tired of lying down."
"Clarke said you need to rest. Get back in bed."
"I'm not a child, Bellamy," You snap, finally turning to face him. He's standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set in that stubborn, infuriating way you know so well. "You don't get to tell me what to do."
"I'm not trying to tell you what to do," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "I'm trying to make sure you don't rip your damn leg open again. You're being stubborn." "And you're being suffocating!" You yell, your voice echoing in the metal confines of the dropship. "You're always here! You're always watching! I can't even breathe without you hovering over me, asking if I'm okay! I'm not okay, Bellamy! I got my ass handed to me by a pig, and I'm stuck in this cot, and the last thing I need is you treating me like I'm going to break!"
"I'm just trying to help!" he roars back, his composure finally cracking. "I'm trying to take care of you! Why can't you just let me? Why do you always have to fight me on everything?"
"Because I don't need you!" You scream, the words a lie, a desperate, hateful thing that you throw at him like a weapon. "I didn't ask for you to save me! I didn't ask for you to follow me around like a lost puppy! I don't need you, Bellamy! I don't want you here!" The words hang in the air between you, heavy and ugly. You see the moment they hit him, the way his face goes pale, the way the fight just drains out of him, replaced by a raw, gut-wrenching hurt.
It's exactly what you wanted, to push him away, to hurt him before he can hurt you.
But it doesn't feel like a victory.
It feels like you;ve just ripped your own heart out. You turn away from him, your vision blurring with tears.
You need to get out of here.
You need to get away from him, from the truth in his eyes, from the lie in your own words.
You take a step towards the door, and then another. A searing, white-hot pain shoots up your leg, so intense and sudden that it steals your breath. You gasp, your leg buckling beneath you, and you crash to the ground, a strangled cry of agony tearing from your throat.
Bellamy shouts your name, gasping. He's at your side in an instant, his hands reaching for you, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated panic.
"Don't move, just let me—"
"Get away from me!" You scream, slapping his hands away. The force of the blow sends him reeling back, his eyes wide with shock and hurt. "Don't touch me! Just leave me alone!" You're sobbing now, your body trembling with a combination of pain and a soul-crushing despair. You're curled up on the floor, a pathetic, broken mess, and you've just pushed away the only person who was trying to help me. He just stands there, staring at you, his hands hanging limply at his sides. The look on his face is a devastating mix of fear, frustration, and a deep, profound sadness that makes your chest ache.
He's not angry.
He's just… broken.
And you're the one who broke him.
Your words hit Bellamy more than he cares to admit, and he takes a short step back- as if the words hit him like a punch in the chest. he brings his hand up to it, to check if he's actually still alive, to make sure there isn't a gaping hole where his heart was- the one that you promptly just ripped out.
"Please," You whisper, your voice a broken, desperate plea. "Just go." He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving your. He turns and walks away, his footsteps heavy and slow, each one a hammer blow to your heart. And then you're alone, curled up on the cold floor of the dropship, crying in pain, with nothing but the suffocating silence and the terrifying, undeniable truth that you just made the biggest mistake of your life.
Bellamy stumbles out of the dropship like he's been shot.
The weight of your words presses down on him, a physical pain that makes it hard to breathe. He leans against the side of the ship, his head in his hands, trying to make sense of the chaos inside him.
How did things go so wrong?
How did he end up here, hurting the person he hates the most cares about most in the world?
He thinks about all the moments you've shared, the fights, the passion, the undeniable connection that binds them together. He realizes now that every argument, every heated exchange, was a battle against the feelings that threatened to consume them both. He was afraid of loving you, of being vulnerable, of losing control. But seeing you like this, so fragile and broken, he understands that the fear of losing you is far greater than any fear of loving you.
With a heavy sigh, Bellamy pushes off from the ship and starts to walk away, his mind a whirl of emotions. He needs to clear his head, to figure out how to fix this. Because he knows, with a certainty that settles deep in his bones, that he can't lose you.
Not again.
Not ever.
As he walks, the camp begins to stir around him, the first signs of life as people start to emerge from their tents. He nods to a few familiar faces, offering a small, forced smile, but his mind is elsewhere. He's lost in thought, trying to find a way back to you, a way to mend the rift that he's helped create. Bellamy finds himself at the edge of the camp, looking out over the trees. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the landscape. He takes a deep breath, the cool morning air filling his lungs, and for a moment, he feels a sense of peace. But it's fleeting, replaced by the gnawing worry that he's lost you for good. He turns back towards the camp, his resolve strengthening with each step. He knows what he has to do. He has to fight for you, to show you that he's not going anywhere, that he'll be there for you no matter what. Even if it means facing his own fears, his own vulnerabilities. As he approaches the dropship, he sees Finn standing outside, his arms crossed and a look of concern on his face. Bellamy stops, unsure of what to say, of how to explain the turmoil inside him.
"Not now, Finn." he gasps, shaking his head. Finn steps in Bellamy's way.
"What the hell did you say to her ?" Finn spits. "She's in there crying her eyes out, and you're out here looking like someone just kicked your puppy. What happened?" Bellamy runs a hand through his hair, his frustration and pain evident in every line of his body.
"I don't fucking know, Finn." He spits, his tone just a violent as Finn's. "Your sister's a pain in my fucking ass. I stick my neck out for her- try to be nice- and she slaps my hand away like i was offering her poison." He says, pointing to the dropship door. "She's your problem, not mine." Bellamy says.
That's lie.
You'll always be his problem.
A weight on his mind, his heart. A constant pressure on his head that will always keep it on a swivel whenever you are near.
Finn's face hardens.
"What the hell is your problem, man ? Why do you hate her so much ? Since the beginning, all you've done is make her life hell. Do you know how many times she's come to me- crying her eyes out because of some dumb shit you said ?" Bellamy's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.
"I don't hate her, Finn. I just… I don't know how to be around her without fucking everything up. Every time I try to help, she pushes me away. Every time I try to be there for her, she finds a way to make me feel like I'm the enemy." Finn's expression darkens, his voice rising with each word.
"That's bullshit, Bellamy. You're just too stubborn to admit that you care about her. You're too afraid to show any vulnerability, to let anyone see the real you. You push her away just as much as she pushes you." Bellamy's eyes flash with anger, his fists clenching at his sides.
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Finn. You think you're so fucking perfect, but you're just as messed up as the rest of us. At least I'm not hiding behind some false sense of righteousness." Finn steps closer, his voice low and dangerous.
"False sense of righteousness? You're the one who can't admit when he's wrong, who can't apologize for being a dick. You're the one who's too proud to swallow his damn pride and just be there for her." Bellamy scoffs, his chest heaving with each breath.
"Be there for her? She doesn't want me there, Finn. She made that perfectly clear. I'm not going to force myself on her just so you can feel better about yourself." Finn's eyes narrow, his voice a low growl.
"You're such a fucking idiot, Bellamy. You're so busy trying to prove how tough you are that you can't see what's right in front of you. She needs you, even if she's too proud to admit it. And you're too damn stubborn to see it." Bellamy's face contorts with a mix of anger and pain, his voice rising to match Finn's.
"I see it, Finn. I see it, and it kills me. But I can't make her see it. I can't make her want me there. I can't make her love me."
Bellamy's entire world stops spinning.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Did he really just say that ?"
Finn's expression softens slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features.
"Love you? Is that what this is about? You're in love with her, and you're too scared to admit it?" Bellamy's breath catches in his throat, his eyes widening with shock.
"I… I didn't say that," he stammers, his voice unsteady. "I mean, I… fuck, Finn, I don't know what I'm saying. I'm just… I'm so fucking confused." Finn steps back, his arms crossed over his chest, a knowing look in his eyes.
"You're in love with my sister ?" Finn spits, as if the word feels foreign. Bellamy flinches at the words, his throat locked. He doesn't answer, just stares down at his feet. "You're in love with her, but you treat her like she's the scum at the bottom of your shoe. Wow, Bell. Real mature." Finn spits. Bellamy's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he struggles to find the right words.
"It's not that simple," he finally manages to say, his voice low and tense. "I care about her, more than I can express. But I'm fucked up, and she's… she's everything. And I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing her, of being hurt, of being seen as weak." Finn's eyes narrow, his voice a low growl.
"You're a fucking coward, Bellamy. You're so busy trying to prove how tough you are that you can't see the damage you're causing. You push her away, you hurt her, and for what? So you can feel like you're in control?" Bellamy's face contorts with a mix of anger and pain, his voice rising to match Finn's.
"I know, okay? I know I'm a fucking mess. But I can't just turn off my feelings, Finn. I can't make them go away. And seeing her in pain… it kills me. It fucking destroys me." Finn steps closer, his voice intense and urgent.
"Then do something about it, Bellamy. Stop pushing her away and start being there for her. Show her that you care, that you're willing to fight for her, to be vulnerable for her. Because that's what she needs. That's what she deserves." Bellamy takes a deep, shaky breath, Finn's words sinking in, resonating deep within his soul. He knows that Finn is right, that he has to face his fears, has to be willing to take that leap of faith. Because you deserve to know the truth, to see the real him, flaws and all.
"I tried, okay ? I tried, and it didn't work." Bellamy says, shaking his head. He turns and starts to walk away.
"Bellamy !" Finn calls.
"Just fuck off, Finn !" He calls back, walking away.
You press yourself tighter against the wall of the dropship, trying not to get seen by the two men. Your heart is beating at a thousand miles an hour, and you press your hand to your chest- out of fear that it might leap out of your chest and run to Bellamy.
Bellamy... loves you ?
No. No. That's not right. It can't be.
Finn swears under his breath, cursing at Bellamy before walking off to go find Clarke, no doubt. You watch carefully as Bellamy vanishes into the woods, and you hesitate.
After a moment of deliberation, you decide to follow him. He's already so far ahead, and your legs screams in protest at every step you take, your knee threatening to buckle beneath you. But you follow him anyway.
He finally stops walking when he reaches the riverbed. You watch him from behind a tree, still a little ways behind, trying to catch your breath as you cling your hand to your injured leg, biting your bottom lip to try to stifle a groan of pain. He strips off his clothes, leaving him in only his boxers, and wades into the water. You watch, lips parted as he dives under and emerges seconds later, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead, water glistening down his chest. He still has scratch marks on his chest- an evidence, a mark that you left a few days ago. You blush furiously as you watch him comb his fingers in his hair, the moonlight dancing on the water and on his skin. You're about to turn away, to go back to camp- there's no use in telling him you're here now and disturbing this small moment of peace he managed to find. But just as you take a step, you leg catches onto a root, and your injured leg screams in pain. You cry out, falling forward, catching yourself with your hands. You wince at the rocks and sticks biting into your palms. You look over your shoulders, and just above the shrub that is hiding you from his sight, you can see him. Waist deep in the water, eyes scanning the treeline.
"Hello ?" He calls. "Is anyone there ?" You curse under your breath and try to free your leg from the root, but it seems to tangle itself further, and you scream again, shouting obscenities.
"Ow, fucking hell-" You swear, hands clinging to your leg as you try to manouever it away from the root. You hear water splashing and your heartbeat quickens.
God, he's going to be so pissed when he finds out you followed him like some kind of love-struck stalker. You need to get out, you need to get up and run-
"Jesus, sweetheart." His tone is so soft and kind it actually makes you flinch. You look up. He's standing there, the shrub pushed away by his hand. He's staring down at you, still soaking from the water, his chest heaving in panic. His eyes dart to the treeline- towards camp- and then back down at you. "What are you- What are you doing here ?" He rasps. The line between his brows deepen and a nerve ticks in his jaw. You can tell he's holding back, trying not to overcrowd you, and you instantly feel horrible.
He's only holding back because of how you reacted earlier.
You don't answer, and reach down to untangle the root, and immediately regret it. You whimper, wincing as another bolt of searing pain shoots up your leg.
"Shit, okay, okay." Bellamy moves fast, crouching beside you, softly tearing your hands from the root. "I got you, baby, i got you." He hums, his voice soft. He slowly removes your foot from the confines of the root. Planting his hands on your hips, he helps you up.
"You shouldn't be out here." He murmurs, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. He's soaked, water running down his face. He studies you carefully. "Are you okay ? Did you- Did you tear you stitches ?" He glances behind you. "It's not too far, i can carry you back to camp.." And that's when it dawns on you that he's holding you impossibly close, pinning you to his body. You jerk away, chest heaving. He looks at you, his lips parting and opening like he's trying to justify himself but fails to. You shake your head.
"I 'm fine, i can walk back to camp. I just-" You huff, trying to find the right words. "I wanted to apologise." Bellamy's eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. "
Apologize?" he echoes, his voice barely above a whisper. "For what?" You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.
"For pushing you away, for being a bitch, for not seeing how much you care. I… I heard you and Finn. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I did, and I… I heard everything." Bellamy's gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher the truth behind your words.
"How much did you hear ?" He asks, his voice wobbling. You gulp.
"From the part where you said i was a pain in your ass to the part where you.." You trail off and Bellamy staggers backwards.
"Fuck." He rasps. Your heart drops, and you stare down at your hands. He licks his lips, shaking his head. "You know i didn't- I didn't mean it that way, right ? I mean i'm not- I'm not in love with you." He rambles, shaking his head.
He regrets the lie the second your face falls.
"Oh." You breathe.
Bellamy wants to reach for you, to say "no, i'm lying. I'm so fucking in love with you i trip over my feet when i hear your name, when i look in your eyes, when i see the way the wind blows through your hair". But he doesn't.
You back away from him, licking your lips as you nod.
"Okay. I'll let you get back to your swim, then. Sorry." You breathe. You turn away from him, walking away, being more careful where you walk now. But something tugs at your heart. You gulp and turn to him one last time. "For what it's worth, Bell.. I am in love with you." You breathe.
The words swipe the world clean from under Bellamy's feet. He's free falling, and those words are the only thing- the one thin, tiny fishing line that is wrapped around his wrist and struggling to keep him up.
You shrug.
"Just thought you ought to know." You turn away again, walking back to camp, your chest heavy.
What a fucking idiot, you think to yourself. Of course he doesn't love me- of course he didn't mean it the same way I do. He fucking hates me, he was just being a good leader- hell, maybe he was trying to be friends with me-
A hand closes around your forearm. You're spun around. Your back hits a tree. And then Bellamy's lips are on yours. Fast and hard, hand coming up to tangle his fingers in your hair, water from his own hair dripping onto your face as his tall, muscular frame brackets you against the bark. The world spins around you as Bellamy's lips crash into yours, his kiss fierce and desperate. You gasp, your hands flying to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. His mouth moves against yours, hungry and claiming, as if he's trying to pour all his unspoken feelings into this single, electric moment. You melt into him, your body molding to his as his fingers tangle in your hair, holding you captive. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of saltwater and something uniquely him. You can feel the tension in his body, the raw, unbridled passion that he's been holding back for so long. Bellamy pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged.
"I'm so fucking in love with you," he rasps, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I trip over my feet when I hear your name, when I look into your eyes, when I see the way the wind blows through your hair. I feel fucking sick everytime I see you smiling and I'm not the one who made you smile- I almost fucking passed out when I saw you coming back, mangled and bloody. I wanted to burn the fucking world down and rebuild it, however way you see fit, because you are the only thing that fucking matters. You're everything to me, and I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it." Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you reach up to cup his face, feeling the rough stubble against your skin. He captures your lips again, this time with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. His kiss is a promise, a vow, a declaration of love that speaks volumes more than any words ever could. You pull away from him, gasping for breath.
"You.." You rasp, shaking your head. "You're going to get me all wet." You say, chuckling as she shakes his head in your direction like a dog. He grins at you.
"Well.." He mutters. "Wouldn't be the first time, huh ?" He teases. Your eyebrows shoot up, your jaw falling open.
"Bellamy Blake !" You gasp, shoving at his bare chest. You push him playfully, a laugh escaping your lips as you try to maintain a stern expression. "You're such an ass sometimes, you know that?" Bellamy catches your hands, his grin widening as he pulls you back against him, his arms wrapping around your waist.
"Maybe," he admits, his voice a low rumble. "But I'm your ass. And you love me anyway." You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch with a smile.
"I do love you," you concede, your voice softening. "Even when you're being an insufferable jerk." He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss.
"I love you too," he murmurs against your mouth. "More than words can express. And I promise I'll do better, be better, for you. No more pushing you away, no more hiding my feelings. I want to be all in, completely and utterly yours." You melt into his embrace, your arms snaking around his neck as you deepen the kiss, pouring all your love and longing into it. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a dance of passion and promise. When you finally pull away, your breath is ragged, and your heart is racing. You rest your forehead against his, your eyes locked in a silent, intimate conversation. He sighs.
"Alright, miss wanderer. Let's get you back to camp before your brother has an aneurysm." You chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the river.
"You're probably right. Finn's going to have my head if he finds out I snuck off like this. And to chase after you no less." Bellamy grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Well, we can't have that, can we? Although, I have to admit, seeing you all tough and independent out here… it's kind of hot." You roll your eyes playfully, but can't help the blush that creeps up your cheeks.
"You're such a flirt. But yes, let's get back before Finn sends out a search party. I'm not in the mood to deal with his lectures right now." He nods, his expression turning serious for a moment.
"You're right. We should get you back and make sure you're okay. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard, especially with that leg." You melt.
"I'm okay." You mutter. He grumbles, walking back to gather his things from the shoreline and slipping his clothes back on.
"We'll let Clarke be the judge of that." He breathes. And before you can take another step, he sweeps you off your feet. You cry out in surprise.
"Bellamy ! Put me down- I can walk perfectly fine." You protest. Bellamy holds you tighter, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"I know you can, but why should you when I'm perfectly capable of carrying you? Besides, I like having you close." You huff, but can't suppress the smile that tugs at your lips.
"You're impossible, you know that?" He chuckles, his arms secure around you as he starts walking back to camp. " As he carries you, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment and safety in his arms. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.
"You know," you murmur, your voice soft and dreamy, "I could get used to this." Bellamy rolls his eyes at the comment. When you cross into camp, he puts you down on your feet softly, eyes drifting down to your leg.
"All good ?" He asks. You roll your eyes and press a kiss to his cheek.
"Yes, i'm fine." You roll your eyes and go to walk away, but he catches your wrist and drags you back into his chest. "Bell, what are you-" His lips meet yours for the faintest second, but it's enough to make your knees weak.
From behind you, you hear Jasper cheer.
"Yes ! Monty, you owe me two bags of Jobi nuts !" He calls, whooping. You pull away from him, slapping at his chest. You turn to see Jasper and Monty standing a short distance away, both wearing smug grins. Jasper is holding out a hand, palm up, clearly expecting payment.
"Pay up, Monty."
