Hunter's mistake - Bellamy Blake x Reader
summary: It was supposed to be just a routine hunt for food. She even offered to do it. But she got ambushed and now she’s in the middle of nowhere, bleeding out with no one to help her. Meanwhile back at the camp, when she’s still not returning to his dislike, Bellamy starts to worry.word count: 3,3k
warnings: mentions of blood, descriptions of fighting, cursing, near death experience, angst
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, bonus part
That morning began with an unfamiliar peace. No shouting. No chaos. Just her and silence. It was pretty early in the morning, everyone still asleep. Well, most of them. She spotted Bellamy and Clarke sitting outside, eating what seemed like breakfast. “You two? Sitting in silence, eating together?” she raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips “Now, that's something I thought I'll never witness.”
“Well, good morning to you too. Care to join us?” Clarke gestured to the empty spot beside her. “What’s on today’s agenda?” the other blonde girl asked, snagging a piece of bread from Clarke’s plate without asking. “Mhm, we need food,” Bellamy muttered, not looking up from his plate. “ I can handle that,” she answered, tilting her head studying the boy in front of her. “I’ll grab my gear and head out.
His eyes lifted, sharp and direct, “No.”
That was Bellamy Blake - unreadable as ever. One day, he treated her like a trusted ally, an equal, someone whose opinion mattered. The next day? He shut her out like a stranger. She hated how inconsistent he was with her. Hated how he made her care. And maybe, just maybe, deep down she hated how she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about him.
But she hasn’t resolved those feelings, not yet. “Excuse me?”
“You are not going for a hunt alone,” he stood up. “I didn’t say anything about going alone,” she protested. “Come on, I know you. You want to. You’d rather face a mountain lion than ask anyone to tag along” Clarke watched in amusement. These two were a mystery to her. They were leaders along her side, making the difficult decisions, helping each other. One day they seemed fine and the next day? It felt like they were gonna slit each other's throats.
“And it’s working just fine for me, isn’t it,” she followed as he started to walk away. “I move faster solo, cover more ground. You need food? That’s how it’s done.”
“This is not about the food,” he snapped, turning to face her fully. “It’s about you coming back in one piece.” She looked at him furious. “Oh, so now you care?”
“Don’t twist my words, princess,” he warned. She exhaled, trying not to kill him on spot. “Look, I get that you’re all in ‘protect the camp’ mode 24/7, but I am capable and I’ve done this way too many times for you to question my abilities.”
“And every damn time, you act like it’s a solo mission. Like no one gets to risk their life but you,” he said sharply. “You think being alone makes you stronger, almost invincible.”
“And you think hovering over everyone makes you in control,” she snapped back, “but you can’t control me Bellamy. You never could.” And that…? That hit harder than she intended. She was so mad at him, firing back without thinking first. His face shifted and she couldn’t read him anymore.
Clarke, still sitting nearby, raised a brow and muttered under her breath, “Here we go again…”
Bellamy ignored her, “You don’t go, unless someone goes with you.” She stepped closer to him, voice quieter, “And I’m serious too. I need to get out, just for a few hours. Clear my head, breathe.” He didn’t say anything, just watched her. “I’ll be careful,” she added, “I swear. And I’ll be back by noon. Just… trust me.”
That of all things, seemed to do it. He signed, defeated, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine, whatever. But if you’re not back by noon…”
“Yeah, I know the drill, you’ll send a search party,” she finished for him. “No. I’ll come find you myself, princess,” he said, deadly serious. She never heard this tone from him before, not directed at her. She swallowed hard, then just rolled her eyes. “Always so dramatic, Blake.” With that she turned, heading off to gather her gear.
He just kept standing there looking after her. “So,” Clarke said behind him, “will you ever have the guts to tell her?” He didn’t say anything, just walked away. She just shook her head and followed. Some things never change.
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Two hours. That’s how long she’d been out there. And all she had to show for was a small rabbit that would barely feed three people, maybe four if luck was on their side. It wasn’t looking so good, so she made a decision to go deeper into the woods. It wasn’t a smart decision, she was well aware of that, too far from the camp, too close to unknown danger. But hunger didn’t care about caution. And she needed to prove something. To herself, to Bellamy, to everyone who thought that she couldn’t handle things on her own.
As she was walking between the trees she heard a branch crack. Until that moment the woods were silent, heavy with tension. She spun, her heart in her throat. A male steps into the view, holding a machete in one hand. He seems dangerous, even brutal, face painted. “Skaikru,” he spits that word like a venom. He smiles. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Two more come out of the shadows, following him. Three of them. Her stomach dropped.
Then the one holding machete chargers. She ducks the first swing instinctively, her foot setting solidly as she slams her shoulder into his side but he barely moves. In a blur, he grabs her by the arm and throws her into the nearest three. It hurts, but she forces herself back up.
She takes out a dagger and throws it at him, missing him by a few inches. She’s well aware of the fact that she won’t be able to overpower them, but needs to outsmart them.
The second one comes at her fast. She sidesteps just in time, kicking his leg out from under him. He hits the ground with a scary grunt. The third swinged a short spear at her. She twisted back, avoiding the tip as it sliced the air.
They circled her, closing in. They trade blows. She tries to be faster - elbow to one's face, then a low kick to the knee of the other one. Her opponents grunts. Staggered, one grabs her by her wrist and swings her into another tree. It leaves bloody marks on her arm and she winces in pain.
The little fighter twists, knees him in the ribs, grabs the machete handle. But he’s faster, wrenches it back, slicing the air between them.
Breathing hard, bruised, they circle each other again. After a single second she lunges, barehanded. Grabs the nearest branch. She swung - he blocked. It was enough. She slams the sharp end into his guts. He gasps.
With a victorious smile she gets distracted leaving him with an opportunity. Flash of metal. Pain exploded in her stomach. He stabbed her. Low, below the ribs. She bites down a scream, eyes wide. Silence. “You shouldn’t have come alone,” he whispers into her ear and then pulls the blade free and steps back, blood dripping from the metal.
She drops to one knee, clutching the wound. Her attackers back into the shadows and disappear like ghosts. She tries to stand up but her legs give out.
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“Is she back yet?” Bellamy’s rough voice cut through the quiet camp. Clarke looked up from her notebook, where she was probably drawing something or maybe someone, “No,” she said, glancing towards the woods. “I haven’t seen her come in.”
Bellamy’s jaw clenched. He looked up at the sky, the sun was hanging high. It was already past noon. Where the hell is she? She promised she’d be back, she promised. “Fuck,” he muttered, “She always has to do things in her own way. Stubborn.” he reminded himself.
Clarke closed the notebook she had in her hands, putting it next to her. She picked up on the visible tension in his voice. “Bellamy,” she tried to soothe him, “You know how she is. Our little huntress, she probably caught some fresh tracks and got lost in the chasing game. She’ll be back soon.” But he couldn’t share Clarke’s optimism. Something felt off, he felt it in his guts, “No, something’s wrong.”
Clarke stood up, her eyes locked on him, “You don’t know that.”
“I do, Clarke,” he snapped. He was frustrated, but it started to turn into guilt. “Why did I let her go alone? She said she needed to go out and I just let her. Like a goddamn idiot." Clarke stepped closer, reaching for his arm, trying to calm him down, “She is capable, Bellamy. She’s not some helpless kid, she's a grown woman.”
“I do know that, but this place,” he stuttered, “this place doesn’t care if you are capable. There is danger lurking around every corner. Grounders, traps, unknown diseases and yet, knowing all of this, she goes out for a hunt, alone. Why? Because she still thinks being alone makes her look stronger.” Clarke stared at him for a second. “She just wants to prove herself,” she said gently, “To you. To everyone.”
The dark haired boy didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched, he looked out into the woods, like she could appear any minute. But she didn’t. “She doesn’t need to prove anything,” he said quietly, “Not to me.” And without another word, he turned. “Monty!” he shouted, already heading toward the supply tent. “Gear up, we’re going after her.” Monty didn’t question it. “On it.”
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Each step was becoming harder than the last one. She dragged herself through the forest, catching on roots and rocks, but she barely noticed anymore. Her only goal was to get back to the camp, to him. Her surroundings had blurred into shades of green and brown, distant and unreal. She felt like she was drowning - too slow, too heavy, too quiet.
Her hand pressed tightly to her stomach, red liquid leaking through her fingers. Blood. She couldn’t tell for how long she had been walking. Time didn’t make sense anymore. The pain was replaced by numbness. That wasn’t a good sign.
She stumbled over a fallen branch and barely caught herself. A painful scream caught up in her throat. Her body was screaming at her to rest, to just lie down. But she kept going. She had to, because if she didn’t, there would be no getting back up.
Her mind drifted. Not to the pain, nor her wound, not even the danger that still lurked in the shadows. It drifted to him. Bellamy Blake. Stubborn, sometimes arrogant, infuriating, always thinking he knew best. And yet, always there.
She heard his voice from that morning. Reminded herself the way he’d looked at her when he told her not to go alone. She ignored his request like a little child, because she felt like she needed to prove something. They fought a lot, and yet, under every insult she could sense something that felt like care.
He drove her crazy. And sometimes - sometimes she caught him looking at her like he cared more than he let on. Like she was the only one in the room. And maybe, just maybe, she looked back the same way. Never said it, never properly named it.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Or was it a sob? She couldn’t comprehend anymore. She wanted to scream, to beg, to yell at someone, but she wasn’t able to even whisper, her lungs at their max capacity. And then suddenly her knees buckled. She fell forward, hands digging into the cold dirt. It sent a jolt of pain through her entire body. She couldn’t breathe. Looked at the path ahead of her, but there was nothing but just more trees, more silence.
She closed her eyes in defeat. I am sorry, she mouthed. Her body slumped against the base of a tree. It scraped her back, but the discomfort reminded her that she was still awake, alive. Her strength left her body like water that slips through fingers. And then - nothing.
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A few moments later Ballamy and a small search party at his back were moving through the woods. They were all on high alert and armed. Bellamy was leading, moving faster than the others, eyes scanning the ground for any small clue - a trail, a footprint, a broken branch. “Bellamy!” Monty called from behind. “We’ll be able to cover more ground if we split up.”
“No!”he cut in, shaking his head. “She can’t be too far. She wouldn’t go too deep, not alone.” Oh how much was that a lie. She would. And she had.
They’d been out for almost an hour. With every step, every unanswered call of her name, the fear he felt clawed tighter at his chest.
Then, he saw it. Blood on the bark of a tree, a drag mark in the dirt. His stomach dropped. “Here!” he shouted, to let the others know of his findings. But he didn’t wait for them to catch up. He just couldn’t. His legs moved instinctively, following the trail of blood. And then - he found her.
His heart nearly stopped at the sight of her. She was leaning on the base of a tree, not too far from the camp, she was so close to making it back. One hand was limp over a wound just beneath the ribs. Blood has soaked into her shirt and into the ground beneath her. Her breathing was shallow. For a second, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He just stood there and stared at her like she might disappear in the blink of an eye. Then instinct kicked in.
“No. No, no, no…” Bellamy dropped to his knees beside her. Hands hovering over her body, too scared to touch her. “Hey,” his voice cracked as he gently brushed the hair from her face. “Hey, look at me. Come on, open your eyes.” His fingers trembled against her cheek. She was cold to the touch.
Her eyelids fluttered weakly, her gaze barely finding him. “You came,” she whispered, but it felt like her voice wasn’t even there. “Of course I came,” he choked out with a little hint of a smile, trying to keep pressure on her wound with shaking hands. “You thought that you’ll get to play the hero alone?” A weak, broken smile tugged at her lips. “Didn’t… play a hero. Just…” it was hard to finish the sentence, her body tense, “stupid.”
“Yeah,” he slightly nodded, biting back the lump in his throat. “Yeah, you were. You’re not supposed to do this alone.” She blinked slowly, eyes drifting closed again.
“No. No, hey,” his voice rising, lightly tapping her cheek. “Stay with me. You stay with me. I swear, if you die out here, I’ll… I’ll kill you myself.” Her lips moved, “You’d miss me.”
He laughed, a broken laugh wrapped in fear and disbelief. “Yeah, yeah I would.”
Monty appeared out of nowhere, breathless. “Bellamy!” The worry spreaded across his friend's face said it all. Monty just nodded and cleared the way while Bellamy slid one arm beneath the girl’s shoulder and the other beneath her knees. He couldn’t lose her.
He forced himself to move, lifted her, her head falling against his chest. She was far too light, far too cold. Blood everywhere.
“Princess,” he whispered, his heart breaking at the sight of her, in his arms, limp. “Just… just stay with me, alright? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” But she didn’t respond. He could hear her fading heartbeat against his chest and more panic settled in.
Her blood soaked into his shirt, warm and horrifying. It coated his hands, streaked his arms. It felt like a living nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. But he couldn’t stop, he didn’t dare to.
“You’re okay,” he whispered over and over as he carried her, like a prayer. “You’re gonna be okay. Just keep breathing. Please… don’t do this to me.”
Every step back to camp felt like endless miles. He was desperate, never looking at the trees around them, not even glancing back if the group was still with him. His eyes never left her, not once. Her lashes fluttered once, barely. He clung to that.
“You don’t get to do this to me, go out like this,” his voice was raw with emotion. “You’re too stubborn, right? You fight. That’s how you do it. So fight now, dammit,” he was almost screaming.
He felt like he was gonna break, felt responsible. And the moment the med tent came into view, his own legs almost betrayed him. But he kept going, he couldn’t stop.
She wasn’t gone. Not yet. And he’d make sure she never got that close again.
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The chaos had passed. The med tent smelled like blood and antiseptic. Clarke worked relentlessly, had done everything she could. Hands worked steady, face pale. The blood haunted him, it was everywhere - on the floor, remained on his hands. He wouldn’t leave her side. He’d just stood there, frozen in the corner, useless. Once a leader, fighter, now just a boy watching someone he cared about slip away.
“She’s stable,” Clarke had told him, when she finished. “For now.” For now, those two words haunted him. He’d nearly lost her.
The tent fell into quietness, whilst Clarke had stepped out to get fresh bandages. No one saw how her hands trembled.
Bellamy remained. He sat down beside her, elbows on his knees, his bloodied hands locked together, knuckles white. Someone has to pay. He couldn’t look at her. She was always like a storm. Now she was this empty shell, so still, pale, quiet.
They faced many close calls together, there were just too many of them in this world. He’d always thought there was time. Time to figure it out, to fight a little more, to ignore the way she got under his skin. To avoid those feelings he couldn’t name every time she looked at him like he was something more. But this was different, he almost lost her this time.
He should’ve gone with her. He knew how she was when she felt caged in. He should see it coming. “Always trying to prove you’re better off on your own,” he murmured, more to the quiet than to her. “Like you’re not carrying the weight of this whole damn camp on your shoulders. Like it’s your job to bleed for everyone else.”
Monty came to check on her but also his friend. His hand rested on Bellamy’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “It’s not your fault. She made a choice. She’s not your responsibility.” Bellamy didn’t dare to look at him. “You’re wrong.”
“Why?” Monty signed. “Because she’s part of the camp? Or because you care about her more than you want anyone to know?” Bellamy didn’t answer and Monty left him alone to his thoughts.
Finally he looked up. She looked so fragile, like one wrong move would shatter her. Clarked had cleaned the wound and wrapped her torso. “You drive me insane, you know that?” No response. Just the soft rise and fall of her chest. “God, if you don’t wake up…” He couldn’t finish it.
Bellamy leaned in slowly, letting his forehead rest against the edge of the cot, just inches from her hand. He wanted to touch her, but didn’t dare to, scared of hurting her, or himself. He stayed like that, head bowed, like a man praying to a god he didn’t believe in.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, “I’m not ready to lose you.”
Her fingers twitched. Barely. But it was enough.
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a/n: i should mention that i only watched season 1 and half of season 2 so far but lately I am obsessed with the 100 and decided that I could try and write a fanfic after a very long time. hope you'll enjoy, it's my first ever fanfic on here and also, english is not my first language so i apologize for any grammatical mistakes in advance.
