hate kill repeat

Bring The Night On

For my precious kekerocks154pink, who requested: Bellamy x reader imagine where the reader is jealous of Clarke and his friendship, and hates Clarke cuz she killed her brother Finn, and it ends all cute and fluffy? Please and thank you.


Everything was gravely quiet for around ten seconds. Even the sounds of Raven’s horrified wails went unnoticed beneath the sound of your heart pumping rushing waves of blood into your ears. Then it went off like a nuclear bomb, hitting you with a blinding white light and a static ringing pierced your eardrums. Your legs felt like gelatin and your knees gave way sending you crashing down to the muddy earth.

Bellamy was holding your limp body in his arms. You fell against him like dead weight and his muffled words fell on deaf ears.

You prayed that your eyes were deceiving you when you saw Clarke back away from Finn with crimson colored hands and a bloody blade. You thought your heart would burst from your chest as you watched his head hang lifelessly in the distance and you yelled for him to get up. He didn’t.

Finn wasn’t your brother by blood but he was in spirit. You knew that the two of you would be close from the moment you first laid eyes on that spirited six-year-old boy doing cartwheels down the hall in mecha station. Your parents had practically adopted him as one of their own. Whether it was defending you from that large boy that used to bully you for your rations or letting you copy his earth skills homework; Finn was always there to look out for you. He had taken care of you aboard the ark and made it his responsibility, as honorary big brother, to protect you on the ground.

The one you had accepted as your brother was now gone from this planet. His vibrant spirit had returned to the heavenly night sky, taking its rightful place among the stars.

You understood that Finn’s brazen attack against an innocent grounder village was wrong, but you still held Clarke solely responsible for his death. Clarke had cut his precious life short and taken him away from you. The moment she carved that knife into Finn’s chest was the same moment that you lost your only surviving family member and every time you looked upon Clarke’s pallid face you were reminded of the misdeed that she had committed.

The only person who was keeping you mildly sane during the wake of your tremendous loss was Bellamy. Even he had his moments where he drove you up the proverbial wall with his constant clinging to Clarke. They were always together, mostly for business but sometimes for pleasure. You kept telling yourself their persistent interaction was all for the greater good, but the devil on your shoulder spoke to your possessive nature and convinced you to question their intentions.

Bellamy was a good looking guy full of raw potential and charisma, a lady killer if you will. You would’ve been foolish to think that the other young ladies around camp weren’t swooning over him. You were fully aware of the lustful eyeballs that ogled your boyfriend’s muscular physique any time he made an appearance and it would’ve been a lie to say it didn’t bother you.

Sure, there was the fact that Bellamy had verbally declared his love for you on several occasions, but the premise of his former persona, Mr. Steal-your-girl, always stuck uncomfortably in the back of your mind. He wasn’t exactly the committed type upon your first meeting and the idea of losing him, to the very woman that mercy killed your adopted brother, was very real.

Your trust for Bellamy became like the grains of sand in an hourglass. For every second he spent with Clarke, a bit of your trust for him slipped away like the sands of time and time was almost up.

You had been arguing with Bellamy over this issue for days now. He had spent countless nights trying to subdue your fears of infidelity, always assuring you that he had committed himself exclusively to you. Tonight was no different from the previous few, right on schedule for a train wreck.

“Do you know how many days you’ve spent away from Clarke this week?” You asked snappily. It was a rhetorical question, meaning that you already knew the answer. It wasn’t meant to be answered but to prove a point. Bellamy scarcely had time to form his lips around an audible word before you were interrupting him, “Zero, that’s how many.”

“Are you going to let me speak?” Bellamy asked raising his thick black eyebrows. 

You shut your mouth and crossed your arms in a sassy gesture meant for him to speak up and take the floor.

“We’re trying to save lives.”

“What about Finn’s life?” You countered. “She didn’t save him.”

“Clarke did what she had to.”

Bellamy was always ridiculously cool and calm when you two quarreled, a trait that was equally frustrating and endearing. You could yell and scream until you were red in the face but not him. He would just stand there, watching like a parent that was patiently waiting for their child to stop throwing a tantrum.

“Are you taking her side?” You accused.

“We need the grounders if we’re going to free our friends from Mount Weather,” Bellamy said trying to placate your rage with reason.

“Answer the question, Bellamy.”

“I know your upset-”

“Upset?” You cut in furiously. Upset was an understatement. Perhaps, two nights ago you had been upset, but tonight you were livid. “I’m in mourning!”

“What do you want me to say?” Bellamy said snatching his jacket from the shabby chair near your room door. “Because everything I say is just going to piss you off.”

He reached for the door.

“Where are you going?” You sighed.

“I’ll be back.”

This was the fight routine: you would scream and he would put up with it until his ears were bloody, then he would leave.

In the event of a disagreement, there were only two places that Bellamy would retreat to. The first would be to the canteen to grab a shot of Monty and Jasper’s homemade moonshine and the other was running off on another mission with Clarke. 

It was late night when Bellamy came traipsing back into your room. Upon his entry, the pungent and lingering aroma of alcohol hadn’t flooded your nostrils and that only meant one thing.

“You were with her again,” You spat.

“You know what?” Bellamy said holding his arms out. “If you want to knock my head off then go right ahead.”

You reared your fist as far back as you possibly could and followed through clumsily with the strength of about ten cotton balls. You spun out of control, losing your footing and missing your target by a mile.

Bellamy caught you around the waist in an attempt to stop you from falling but your blundering force pulled him into your descent. You both came crashing down to the floor below with a loud thud, knocking over several pieces of furniture in the process.

“I think I broke something,” You groaned.

“More like a few things,” Bellamy said prying a piece of a broken chair leg out from under him.

You looked around at the mess you created and then back at Bellamy who was still awkwardly holding that bit of broken chair. You both burst into side-splitting laughter; the kind of laughter that made tears stream and stomachs ache.

“You were actually going to punch me,” Bellamy chortled.

“It was your idea, genius.”

“It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long with that killer right hook,” Bellamy teased, wiping away your tears of laughter.

You were always Bellamy’s responsibility and first priority. You had just gotten so accustomed to Finn being there to share that responsibility and now that he was gone, the obligation to protect you rested entirely on Bellamy.  

You realized that you were too hard on him. You had survived for this long on account of Bellamy’s tireless work. The time spent on missions with Clarke was never about her but it was always about you and your safety.

“I’m an idiot,” you said nuzzling your feverish face into Bellamy’s chest. “Do you forgive me?”

“Always,” he replied, lifting your chin and meeting your lips with a soft kiss. “Now how about we work on that right hook.”

My favourite part of the entirety of falsettos is “Jason, please see a psychiatrist– ” “I’m a psychiatrist, get lost!”