Drive Me Crazy
Bellamy X Reader
(Idk if I sent this in or not lol) could you do a Bellamy X read could be an AU where they were FWB Briefly(but had secret feelings they didn’t share to w/ other) on the ark. when both are on earth he’s a huge player and doesn’t know Y/N is there until he sees her talking to Murphy, causing him to become a lot tougher(over the top mean bc he’s jealous) and it gets too much she runs away causing him to go mad, sending out a search party.(long one plz, your writing is great)
Author’s note: This is extremely long, so please be prepared. It’s not just a smut like most of the other things I write.
Bold italics=Ark flashback
You scramble over broken twigs and mossy rocks, nearly tripping over your own feet. A brief glance behind you sends a fresh wave of terror coursing through your veins. The cloud of acid fog moves closer, reaching out in finger-like tendrils that claw over the ground. You turn your head forward again and your legs carry you faster. It won’t get you. You won’t just be another name crossed off the list of delinquents.
You feel like you’ve been running miles. The grounder horn you heard must have been blown an hour ago, at least. Every time you get the nerve to turn, sure that you’ve distanced yourself from the approaching mist, it seems to have gained on you. You’re desperate now, eyes scanning the woods for any place that might just shelter you from the worst of it.
Air whooshes from your lungs as you slam into something solid when your attention is turned. You grip the tree trunk for support as you try to force oxygen back into your bloodstream, but you continue wheezing. Maybe this is it. That’s what the chancellor sent you down here for after all, isn’t it? To die? Your will to keep going dissipates with every painful breath. You’re all but resigned to take what you’re given. This has to be less painful than seeing his face again anyway.
It’s a sick coincidence - a serendipitous chance. So much so that at first you think it’s only a mirage. But then you give it your full attention, and it’s actually there. A cave taunts you from thirty feet away. A bit of stone winks at you in a patch of sunlight, and your heart nearly stops. Then you’re running.
You can’t muster up the courage to look behind you again. You gave the fog too much time to catch up, and you’re sure you’ll fall if you don’t focus on where you’re going. You’re almost there. Mere feet separate you from cover.
A shriek leaves your lips as you feel a sensation like no other creep up your ankle. It burns like you’ve floated too close to the sun - white-hot and brutal. It takes everything you have to keep moving, and then you feel it again, but this time in middle of your calves. You scream again in agony as it travels up both your legs before you dive into the mouth of the cave.
You drag yourself further into the shelter, gritting your teeth as your skin cries in protest. A pained whimper is all that makes its way from your lips, your nostrils flaring with the intensity of your breaths. With a great amount of effort, you’re able to lean your back against a stoney wall, head propped back and eyes squeezed shut.
Tears fall down your face. It’s almost ironic how short of a timespan has passed since you last cried. It feels like déjà vu. You’re left wondering which pain is worse: this or what you had to endure back at camp? Do you really deserve either?
The flames throw shadows across the faces of the delinquents. You try to keep your eyes on the fire, but you find them flickering to his tent despite yourself. The entrance is only half sealed, and some of the material flaps in the breeze.
Murphy sits beside you, laughing around a mouthful of food at something Mbege said. In your opinion, he’s not funny. All of his “jokes” are cruel or vulgar. You only tolerate him because Murphy is so close to him.
You hand Murphy the piece of meat you had been nibbling at, your appetite lost to thoughts of what could be going on inside the tent. He takes the food from you with a raised eyebrow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re not hungry?”
You shake your head and he doesn’t say another word before biting into the remaining food, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. You lean against him, eyes still flickering between the flames and the tent opening again. Murphy turns back to Mbege and continues their conversation, something about Wells or Clarke, you’re sure.
Your body stiffens as a body exits the tent. It’s a girl that you recognize, though you couldn’t remember her name even if you wanted to. She looks pleased, lips turned up into a quirky smirk, hair a mess. You chew on the inside of your cheek, an unpleasant knot forming in the pit of your stomach.
Then he exits in all his glory. He’s shirtless, torso exposed to the entire camp, a thin sheen of sweat drawing attention to the cut of his muscles. You swallow down the pain in your throat as you notice the way his hair is disheveled, dark curls unruly in the way that you find all too familiar. He pulls a shirt on over his head, and you’re able to train your eyes back on the fire and prevent any more pain from seeping into your bones.
“Hey, do you want to go hunting tomorrow?”
You look up at Murphy, surprised that he’s even paying attention to you. He tosses the bones into the fire and wipes his fingers on his pants, glancing down at you.
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Have you ever gone before?”
“No,” you answer simply. You don’t have much of a stomach for killing things, but a chance of leaving the camp, even if only for a few hours, is an opportunity you can’t miss. Plus, Murphy is really the only person you know here. It’s quite uncomfortable when he’s not around.
“Okay, well I can show you the ropes.” He grins at you, that maniacal smile that he gets. You don’t know if it’s because he’s trigger-happy or he just can’t wait to get out of camp like you. “We’ll have to find a gun you can handle.”
You roll your eyes, sick of his constant teasing. That’s the way he is, though. You have to deal with it, and you have to admit it brings a smile to your face.
“You mean a gun that can handle me.”
“Oh,” Murphy’s eyes widen in surprise at your retort as he chuckles. Mbege laughs quietly beside him. “Cocky, huh?”
“Murphy!” The familiar voice startles you. Your breath catches in your throat as you glance in its direction. His face is stony, jaw clenched. He always looks angry these days, aside from when he’s pulling girls into his tent.
You’re surprised when his eyes flit over you. He hasn’t looked at you since you landed, let alone acknowledged you. Even when he’s been mere feet from you, you’ve doubted that he even knew that you were there. But now his eyes lock on your face, eyebrows drawn low. You look away quickly, heart pounding frantically in your chest.
“What, Bellamy?” The name sends a shockwave through you. Murphy shifts, pulling his arm from your shoulder. You sit up straight and glue your gaze back to the fire.
“Let’s go. I need you,” he speaks, voice rough. He’s much closer now. You can feel his presence behind you. Murphy pays your knee once and stands. Without him next to you, you feel cold and an anxious chill creeps up your spine.
“If the rest of you are done with your banquet you can get back to work!” His shouting makes you jump. His voice is loud and low, and the proximity of it is unnerving.
The delinquents seated around the fire stand, mumbling to themselves. You see Mbege roll his eyes. You reach down to grab your water bottle.
“That means you too, Y/N.” His voice isn’t any softer. It’s just as cruel as it has been since you reached the ground, though this is the first time it’s been directed at you. You’re not used to this tone. “Now.”
You rise to your feet and leave quickly without a glance behind you.
You’ve just finished dressing when you hear a knock at your door. Your hair is still damp, and you shiver when the door creaks open and a rush of air ruffles it. Bellamy stands on the other side, leaned against the frame, half-smile on his face, hair combed back.
“What are you doing here?”
His tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip as he enters the room. You take a step back to let him in and he closes the door behind him. His janitor’s uniform swishes as he moves, the material moving against itself.
“I have a break,” he states, moving forward to grip your waist. “And what better way to spend my time?”
“I don’t know. I could probably think of a few,” you joke, trying to keep your smile at bay as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips prodding at your collarbone. Your fingers find the ends of his hair.
“Sure, you could.” He kisses up the side of your neck, fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips. A giggle leaves your lips as he lifts you suddenly, and you wrap your legs around his waist before he moves to plop you down on the mattress.
“But I just showered,” you complain, gripping the blue collar of his jumpsuit. The weight of his body presses into yours and you let out a gasp as he nips at your skin.
“Mmm, and you smell great,” he hums, threading his fingers into your hair and inhaling before pressing his lips to yours gently.
“I just got dressed,” you breathe in a last ditch effort.
“And now you’re getting undressed,” he replies with a deep laugh, pushing the hem of your shirt up your torso. “C'mon, I’ve only got an hour.”
“Well, in that case.” You give a sarcastic laugh and roll your eyes playfully.
“Yeah, yeah.” He shimmies down your body, open mouth pressing over your ribs. You arch your back as he reaches beneath you, unclipping your bra. You lift your arms as he peels both articles from your body to expose your chest.
“Don’t mock me,” you chide, flicking his forehead. He laughs again and kisses down your stomach, making quick work of your pants until it’s only the think layer of your underwear that separates you from him.
“Mhm.” His fingers hook into the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs slowly, igniting every nerve with his touch. His teeth dig into your inner thigh briefly, drawing a wince from you before his face appears above you once more.
“Don’t be sarcastic and I won’t mock you.”
You throw your body weight to the side until you’re seated on top of a shocked Bellamy. He grips your upper thighs and lets his eyes trail down your naked form after composing himself, lowering his head back against the mattress. You lean down and press your lips to the underside of his jaw, popping the top button of his jumpsuit.
“Don’t act needy and I won’t be sarcastic.”
“I’m not needy,” he informs you, sliding his hands up your back. “And don’t pretend you don’t enjoy this.”
You hum against his skin and pop the next button. This whole arrangement is a recent occurrence. It’s only been about two months since you started sleeping together. Bellamy’s been a close friend for a while now, and one day it just kind of happened. You couldn’t even recall the events leading up to it. He’s right, though; you do enjoy it.
“Okay, mister janitor.”
“Don’t pull that card again,” he complains with a groan. You laugh and sit up, continuing to unbutton the extent of his jumpsuit until you can spread it open far enough to run your hands down his torso.
“Sorry.” You lean down once more to plant soft kisses over his chest before he sits up and pulls his arms from the uniform.
“I’d rather you show me how sorry you are,” he says lowly.
Your heart flutters in your chest, heat pooling at your center. His fingers creep slowly up your sides and press underneath your breasts. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and smirks up at you.
“I’m really sorry,” you whisper, reaching underneath yourself to press your hand over his boxers.
“Mhmm, not sorry enough,” he responds, raising an eyebrow. You laugh and palm him slowly, pressing your mouth to the side of his neck. You can feel him hardening under your hand.
“I’m really, really sorry,” you whisper into his ear before tugging at his earlobe gently with your teeth. A gravelly moan slips from his mouth. You slide your fingers beneath the band of his boxers to wrap around his erection. A rush of air slips between his teeth. “And I like your uniform.”
“I believe you,” he mumbles, turning to catch your lips with his. You kiss him back, mouth parting to allow his tongue entry. You pull your hand from his pants before breaking the kiss.
“Cool, so all better?”
“Shut up,” he says with a deep laugh. You giggle along with him as he lays back on the bed. His hands slide down your thighs, tickling your skin.
“Turn around,” he says after a minute.
“What?” You furrow your eyebrows. Whatever position you choose, you’re almost always facing each other.
“I just wanna try something,” he assures you, tilting his head.
You chew on your lip and twist your hips, turning to face the other direction and straddle his thighs. You feel his fingers trace over the curves of your hips before he lifts you up a few inches. You suck in a sharp breath as he starts lowering you onto his length, one hand holding himself steady.
“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, both hands finding their places on your hips. Your head falls back as he stretches you open in the way he always does. It’s such a good pain that you press yourself down until he’s seated completely inside you.
“Fuck, that’s so good,” you commend, hands falling to balance yourself just above his knees. You roll your hips once and Bellamy hisses behind you. It’s been almost a week since you’ve been together, and you’re sure the time has weakened him.
“You like that?” You nod quickly. “Move, Y/N,” he commands, his voice far less powerful than the words he speaks.
You lift up slowly before dropping back down. His cock stretches you again. This angle lets you feel all of him in every spot you need to. You’ve barely even moved, but already you can feel a few drops of sweat forming along your hairline.
It takes a moment for you to set a pace, but then your whole body is moving. You drop your head forward, hair brushing his legs with every bounce. You stop for a moment to grind your hips in a circle and a sharp grunt falls from Bellamy’s lips. His cock presses against a spot that has you seeing stars.
“Bellamy,” you moan out, eyes squeezing shut. He stiffens beneath you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides.
“Fuck, baby, do that again.” The name sends a flutter through your stomach. You twist your hips once again, pussy clenching down around him.
“Yes, fuck!” His grip tightens even more on you, pulling you up to slam you back down. You let out a surprised gasp, thrown off balance by the force.
“Bell.” Your moan comes out in shaky breaths as he starts to guide your hips at a faster pace. You feel him thrust up to meet you, and your hands tighten around his legs to keep yourself upright. “Don’t stop.”
You’re slammed down roughly again, body pulsing. Bellamy continues to lift his hips from the mattress, breaths heavy as a string of profanities escapes his lips. Your legs quake beneath you while he grunts with effort.
“Bell, fuck, I’m gonna come!” Suddenly, you feel his chest pressed against your back, a line of sweat between the two of you. One arm wraps tightly around your ribcage, the other snaking around your thigh to play with your clit. He continues to fuck into you - hard.
“Come on my fucking cock, Y/N,” he growls, fingers prodding mercilessly at your center. “C'mon, baby.”
You do as told, pussy spasming uncontrollably around his thick girth. You can’t help the long moan that you let out as you lean back against him, head falling to his shoulder. He grunts into your ear. You feel him twitch, and then he’s spurting hot come into you, loud gasps against your shoulder blade as his arm tightens around you.
“Good girl,” he mumbles. “Your cunt always takes me so well.” His words send another shockwave through you.
“Fuck,” you whimper, gripping his thigh beneath you when he attempts to pull you off of him. “Give me a minute.” Your pussy is still out of your control, walls clenching every few seconds.
“Mmm,” he hums, lips pressing to your damp skin, fingers dancing over the side of your waist.
You’re able to regain some of your strength after another minute, peeling his arm from your body and climbing from his lap. He lays back and you collapse on the mattress beside him, both of you staring up at the ceiling. It’s silent for a few minutes as you both level your breathing, and you restrain from interlacing your fingers as you’d like to.
When you have the strength, you rise from the bed to clean yourself up some in the bathroom. When you return to the room, Bellamy is still in the same position, fingers laced behind his head, boxers pulled back on, but jumpsuit bunched up above his knees. You crawl over him to lay on the inside of the mattress and copy his form.
“Do you ever think about her?” you ask, voice quiet. You barely ever talk about such intimate things, but Bellamy’s life is very interesting to you. Nothing exciting ever seems to happen where you’re concerned, and you’re always prepared to delve a little more into his thought processes.
You hesitate before continuing. You know it’s a sore subject for him.
He’s silent. You’re scared that you’re pushing him too far. You’re only friends. He doesn’t want anything more than that. Who are you to act like his girlfriend?
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to-”
“Think about her? Like how she’d still be alive if it weren’t for me? Like how I’m the reason she was floated?”
You sit up immediately and turn to look at him.
“Bellamy, that’s not what I meant. I was just-”
“No, it’s okay.” He sits up and adjusts his boxers, slipping his arms back into his uniform and beginning to button it up again.
“I’m late. I’m supposed to go visit O.”
You nod softly and lean back against the wall. He stands and finished doing up his jumpsuit before turning to you.
“I’ll see you later.” He leans down and gives you a quick peck on the lips. You smile half-heartedly as he turns to leave the room.
You won’t see him later. In fact, you won’t speak for the next three months. You’ll be imprisoned a day before the dropship is set to depart for a crime as stupid as stealing a pair of shoes. When you crash land, the appearance of Bellamy will be a complete shock to you, and it will take two weeks before he even realizes that you’re there.
“Nope, not happening.”
You take a massive step back as Bellamy’s hand juts into your shoulder roughly. For the first time since you landed, you look up into his face and maintain eye contact. He looks fierce, not the friend that you remember at all.
“What?” Your voice isn’t nearly as strong as you hoped it would be.
“What’s not happening?” Murphy turns with a deep frown set into his face. Mbege leans against a tree and adjusts the bag on his shoulder, seemingly uninterested.
“She’s not going with you guys.”
“Why not?” This time, you’re proud of the tone you’re able to take. All you want is to put some distance between the two of you, and that’s extremely difficult in this camp.
“Because you’ve never shot a fucking gun, Y/N.” He glares at you as if you’re stupid, as if you’re useless. “All you’re gonna end up doing is wasting ammo and probably hurting one of them.” He gestures to Murphy and Mbege and then crosses his arms. “We need them. They’re good shots.”
You furrow your eyebrows, shocked at how rude he’s being. You thought that he might be a little bit happy when he actually noticed you last night, but obviously you were wrong. His stance is solid, and you’re sure you won’t be able to convince him to let you go, but it’s worth a shot.
“They can teach me!” You look to Murphy briefly, but he’s just staring up at the sky, looking unamused.
“The hell they can!” You jump at the power of his voice, louder than last night. “We don’t have enough good ammo for you to be wasting it and scaring off animals!”
“Bellamy, lay off.” Murphy is focused on the conversation now and tilts his head in annoyance. “It was just an idea. She doesn’t have to come.”
“She’s not. Now go.”
Murphy rolls his eyes inconspicuously and turns to exit the camp, Mbege trailing behind him. Bellamy glowers at you for another moment before turning to busy himself with something more important. You’re left standing alone, curious eyes burning holes into your flesh.
“Find something useful to do, Y/N.”
“What did I say?”
“To set it in the pocket of your shoulder,” you mumble, pressing your fingers into the spot where you know a bruise will soon be forming. Your arms already hurt, and this isn’t going to make the pain much better. You didn’t realize how heavy the kickback would be.
“And did you do that?”
“No, Bellamy,” you grumble, clenching your jaw. “I wasn’t-”
“Next time I say something, listen to me.” His words have been slicing into you since before you even left camp. Now, you’re getting awfully sick of his voice and his rigid stance and the way you can feel his gaze on the side of your face. “Again.”
You lift the gun into position, making sure to place it in the pocket of your shoulder this time. You focus your sight through the crosshairs and aim for the center of the target, taking a deep breath, finger poised over the trigger. Once you feel steady, you squeeze the trigger, but all you hear is a click.
“Dammit, Y/N!” You almost drop the gun as Bellamy’s voice rings out. “What did I tell you?”
“You need to count your rounds!” He stalks closer to you and it takes a lot to stand your ground. “If you miscount, you’re dead!”
You keep your eyes trained on your feet, shaking with anger. He sounds so condescending. You don’t know how much more of this Bellamy you can physically take.
“Reload and go again.”
You drop down to your knees and are about to change out your ammo when his voice cuts through the air once again.
“Fuck, Y/N! Turn the damn safety on!”
“Okay!” You shout, surprising yourself at the power behind your voice. You glare up at him briefly and his nostrils flare.
You click the safety into place and detach the magazine, tossing it to the side and snapping a fresh one into the well. You rise to your feet once again and cock the handle before getting back into position, swiping your tongue over your lips. You take a moment to aim at the target and release a short breath before firing. The sound leaves a ringing in your ears as you pull back.
“Way low,” Bellamy comments, leaning back against a tree trunk. “Again.”
You grit your teeth and set up once more before firing again.
“Far left. Again.”
You huff and pull the handle once more before raising the gun. You didn’t like it the first time you fired, and you hate it even more now. The weapon feels uncomfortable in your grip, and the thought of firing at anything with a heartbeat is suffocating.
Deep breath, fire.
This continues for another six rounds before you tip the edge of the target. It’s got to be a serendipitous accident, though.
“You skinned a grounder’s arm. Congratulations.”
“Try harder.” His eyes are piercing when you turn to look at him. “How many rounds do you have left?”
“You shouldn’t have to think about it. Again.”
You psych yourself up for another shot and, miraculously, you hit a few inches from the center of the target.
“Good. Now, do it again.”
Your confidence has built up, but only slightly. You look through the crosshairs and take another deep breath, preparing to shoot again.
“No, too slow.”
You lower the gun and huff out an exasperated sigh.
“Bellamy, I just started learning. I-”
“I don’t care, Y/N. The grounders could attack us tomorrow, for all we know. The longer you take to aim, the more time they have to kill you. You aim, you fire, and then you move on to the next target. This is as simple as it’s gonna get.” He pushes himself from the tree and moves to stand feet from you. “You don’t get a minute between shots to prepare for the next one. We need to take out as many as possible to protect our people. Again.”
You bite your tongue and lift the gun again, taking as little time as you can to aim. You miss by a mile.
You try to recalculate as quickly as possible and fire again. You’re still off. An annoyed groan escapes your lips.
“Again, Y/N.” His voice is loud, and sounds right by your ear. It startles you, but you adjust the gun against your shoulder and pull the trigger again, missing once more.
“Fuck,” you mumble, voice shaky.
You hear Bellamy grunt and then he rips the gun from your hands and positions it on his own shoulder. You take a step back as he takes only a second to aim and then fires. The sudden noise makes you jump. He hits the center of the target and then fires twice more in quick succession, succeeding both times.
He turns slightly to the right, toward another farther target that you hadn’t gotten to yet. He pauses only briefly and then more shots are fired. He turns once more to another target and continues to put you in your place. Eventually, Bellamy releases the magazine from the gun and tosses it to the side, dropping the gun beside the unused rounds.
“Out of ammo,” he reminds you. “That’s how fast you have to be before you go out hunting.”
“No?” Bellamy turns to stare at you, eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. You don’t give him one. You just wrap your arms around your body and find a spot on his chest to glue your eyes to. “You wanted to learn.” He grabs the discarded magazines and throws them into the bag of weapons, along with the gun. “If you can’t do that, then you can’t leave camp.” And then he throws the bag over his shoulder and starts back toward the dropship, leaving you in all your agony.
“So, you’re not gonna try again?” Murphy asks, lips pursing as you dab at his wound with a moonshine-soaked cloth.
“No,” you answer, shaking your head.
It’s been a week since your shooting lesson with Bellamy. You’ve tried to avoid him as much as possible, but somehow he finds a way to make every day a nightmare. Whether it be yelling at you in front of the camp, or making you do some stupid chore, he’s relentless.
“I don’t think Bellamy would even agree to if I asked him.”
“Why does he have it out for you? What did you even do?”
All you can do in response is shrug. You’ve been asking yourself the same question since he first interacted with you on the ground. What bothers you most is that no matter how awful he is to you, how miserable he makes you, you know deep down that you’re still in love with him.
“Well, he’s fucking crazy, so there’s that.” You smile as Murphy laughs at himself. You press the cloth harder against his leg. “Ow, fuck, Y/N!” You struggle to hold your own chuckle in.
“What are you doing?” The voice sends a sense of dread and thrill washing over you.
“Grounder skinned my leg with an arrow while we were out hunting,” Murphy explains, looking up at Bellamy. “I killed him, but it still hurts like a bitch.”
“Why are you cleaning it?”
His voice is like ice as it’s directed toward you. You close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself for what will happen next. It can’t be anything good.
“I figured with all the people that are already sick-”
“You’re don’t know what you’re doing, Y/N.” Your heart falls into your stomach.
“I just thought I could help out.”
“Well, you can’t.” He looks down at the bucket of alcohol beside you. “And now you’ve wasted a shitload of moonshine.”
“Woah, Bellamy. Calm down.” Murphy lifts his head to look Bellamy in the eye, his gaze stoney.
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Murphy. You know we can’t chance you getting an infection.”
He stands and you push yourself to your feet, still avoiding eye contact with Bellamy.
“Murphy, don’t. It’s not your problem,” you mumble.
Bellamy glares at him, eyes filled with fire. He takes a single, intimidating step forward and sets his jaw. “Go see Clarke. You should have gone there as soon as you got back. She’s the only one here that has any medical experience.”
Murphy stands still for a few more moments before glancing down at you and walking away. You feel a knot in your throat already forming, and you wrap your arms around yourself to hold in your emotions. Bellamy turns to you, eyes locking on your face as you stare at the ground.
“You’re not a fucking doctor.”
“Neither is Clarke.”
“But at least she has a clue about something,” he retorts, shaking his head.
“All I had to do was disinfect the cut and-”
“Yeah, and contaminate half of our moonshine supply in the process!” He kicks over the bucket beside you and you jump back. You finally find it in yourself to look up into his face, tears brimming your eyes.
“Bellamy, I’m not trying to-”
“Just stick to what you’re good at, and stop filling positions that aren’t open.”
He gives you one final glance and walks away. You stand there frozen, tears leaking down your cheeks. It’s completely beside you how the Bellamy that you knew could have morphed into this cruel human being. You can’t find any trace of the man from the ark.
It’s less than an hour later that you’re packing packing a bag with food and supplies. You’re sick of Bellamy. You’re sick of hearing his voice, because it’s nothing like you remember. You’re sick of seeing his face, because it’s hard and emotionless. You can’t stand when he touches you, because it’s rough and there’s no meaning behind it. You can’t stand another day of this.
You leave as soon as you have what you need. No one notices as you slip through a hole in the wall, and you don’t look back when you do.
It’s been hours now. You can’t find the energy to stand up. You ditched your bag back when you were running in an effort to speed up, and now you have no supplies.
Maybe Bellamy was right. You overestimate yourself. How long did you really think you could survive alone on the ground? You’ve barely made it two days now, and by the looks of it you won’t make another.
The pain in your legs is excruciating. You haven’t had the nerve to look them over, but you know it’s got to be bad. Not only is the skin burning, but the muscles are screaming in agony. You don’t remember having ever run so fast in your life.
Your body aches with exhaustion and your throat is dry. It’s a miracle you’ve been able to stay awake this long, but you can feel sleep settling into your bones. A few more minutes and you’ll be completely unconscious. A small part of you hopes to not wake up.
Your legs have been bent at an angle for so long that they’re starting to cramp. You start to stretch them out, and even the most subtle movements have you screaming. It takes minutes to straighten them, and then you’re sobbing like you did when you first found the cave. Another scream of agony leaves your lips when your burns make contact with the ground.
“Y/N!” The sound is distant, and your eyes are fluttering closed. It must be in your imagination. You’re so tired.
All you can do is cry. Even when you try to escape him, your mind reminds you of Bellamy. He’s everywhere. Even your thoughts aren’t safe.
“Y/N?” His voice seems so close, you can almost feel his breath on your skin. It echoes inside your skull, taunting you. And then you realize it’s the echoing of the cave.
“Bellamy,” you mumble. Your voice is weak.
He comes into view around the bend of the cave, and you’ve never seen someone look so angelic. His eyes are wide as they scan your body. He drops to his knees beside you, hands reaching for your face. The warm touch of his fingers comforts you and lets another wave of exhaustion roll through your body.
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
“The fog,” you begin. Your throat is parched, and you can hear it. “My legs,” you mumble after swallowing. You can barely keep your eyes open now, and your breaths keep getting shallower. “They hurt, Bellamy.”
“Okay, okay.” He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and mumbles something under his breath. “Stay with me, Y/N. You hear me?” You nod softly. “We’re gonna get you back to camp and then Clarke’s gonna fix you up.”
You feel Bellamy’s arm snake behind your back and the other beneath your thighs. He lifts you up, and almost immediately you let out an agonized scream. His hold falters before he regains composure.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers. Your hands cling to his shirt, face curled into his shoulder. You feel him moving, and each step hurts. He’s yelling something, but you’re not sure what, and that’s all you remember before everything goes black.
You wake up screaming. Pain shoots through your right calf. There are strong hands pressing against your torso, holding you down. You open your eyes to someone kneeling beside you. When you twist your neck, you find Bellamy’s face. His jaw is set, but his lips tremble. You can’t look away. Then the pain comes again, this time worse.
“Stop!” you plead, shrieking again and attempting to writhe away from the touch. You feel other hands on your body that hold you in place.
“Clarke,” Bellamy barks, turning his head away from your face.
“The burns need to be cleaned, Bellamy.” Her voice is calm and steady, so much different from his. “If they’re not, we risk infection and then she could die.”
“Please,” you beg between sobs. You’re on your stomach, and Bellamy’s hands are the ones protecting your upper body.
“Just hurry it up!” You can’t lift your head to find the source of Murphy’s voice, but you bet some of these hands are his.
Your eyes squeeze closed when another wave of agony shoots up your leg, sobs ripping from your chest. “I’m sorry!” you all but yell, body wracking with tremors. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, Bellamy. Just please, make them stop.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know why you hate me, but I’m sorry!”
The pain now resides in your other leg as you feel pressure against the wound, and you’re screaming again, against all of your will. You feel other hands replace the ones on your back and Bellamy’s face comes into view as he lowers down beside you.
“Hey,” he whispers, hand resting on top of your head and thumb rubbing over your hair. His other hand finds yours, and you can’t help but squeeze tightly when your fingers intertwine. You’ve always wondered what it would feel like. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”
You shriek again. You can feel a puddle of tears forming beneath the side of your face. Your hand grips Bellamy’s even tighter, trying to let some of the pain escape your body.
“You’re almost done,” Clarke speaks suddenly.
You open your eyes to find tears on Bellamy’s cheeks. He leans forward to press his lips to your forehead briefly and wipes his face with the back of his hand, sniffing quickly. You close your eyes, and only let out another few sobs before the prodding stops and the pain diminishes some. The hands leave your body, but you grip onto Bellamy’s like your life depends on it.
“She’ll be fine for now, but eventually we’re gonna have to clean them again.”
Murphy pats your back gently. “Glad you’re alive, Y/N.” You don’t say anything in reply as the rest of the people leave the room. You’re surprised to see Mbege in the group.
“Don’t leave,” you find yourself whispering.
Bellamy shakes his head gently and rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “I’m not leaving,” he assures you. He glances down at your legs and clenches his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”
“How did you find me?”
His eyes trail over your face, fingers running through your hair. “A search party went out about an hour after you left.” He shifts so that he’s laying beside you, hands still clasped, fingers tracing your cheek. It’s soothing, to say the least. “I though you died in that fog.”
“As if you would care.” Your eyes are challenging as you look into his face. “Don’t pretend to worry about me now.”
“That’s all I do, Y/N!” You’re so confused by his sudden shift in attitude toward you. He sighs and turns his gaze to the ceiling. “I love you, okay?” Your heart flutters in your chest, despite the sheer exhaustion you feel. “You make me fucking crazy, and I’m in love with you.” The last part is so quiet, you almost think it’s a figment of your imagination, but your ears still ring with the words.
“I love you too, Bell,” you whisper. He looks over at you, fingers frozen on your cheek. You just stare at each other for a few moments before he kisses your lips quickly and then presses his mouth to your hair. You’re not sure how long you lay like that, but you fall unconscious before either of you move.