Bellarke Oneshots and Prompts

Hold My Hand

Prompt: Imagine Person A always holds Person B's hand till Person B falls asleep. One day Person B gets shot and is bleeding pretty bad. When Person A hurries to rescue them, Person B says: "Hold my hand, I am falling asleep."

"Hold my hand," Clarke suggested, already snuggled up against Bellamy's side. He smiled, turning his head slightly to look at her as he intertwined their fingers.

For months now, Clarke and Bellamy had shared a tent. If asked, they would both say it was because there was little room in the camp, and there was no point in wasting the supplies. No one asked, but the real reasons were clear.

"Of course. Wouldn't want our hands to get cold tonight," he replied. "Dangerous if we loose them to frostbite." Clarke returned his gaze without wavering.

"What ever would people do if their leaders didn't have fingers?" she agreed seriously. "How would they know that you were flipping them the bird?"

"They'd have to take a guess on my intentions, which can be wildly misperceived. We should probably just sleep like this every night," Bellamy answered with a shrug.

"Works for me." Clarke propped herself up on her elbow so that she could plant a kiss on Bellamy's lips, and then returned to her position, wrapping an arm around his torso as he squeezed her shoulders until they drifted off to sleep.

—

"We'll have to make camp here for the night. It's too dark to keep going, and we'll need rest if we're going to get to Ton DC by the deadline. We can take watch shifts. Harper, can you take the first?" Bellamy glanced to her, waiting for her nod before continuing. "Good. Wake Monty in two hours. Monty, wake Clarke, and she can wake me for the last shift." He could hear the slight sighs of relief from all three when he offered to take the last shift, and smiled to himself. No one would outwardly complain about the last shift, but he knew that they all hated it. "Let's start a fire, and we can take shelter in that cave up there." The small team broke off to prepare for the night, tying their supplies in the trees and gathering wood.

Bellamy blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept at all the night before leaving, and he was starting to feel the effects in his slower movements and reaction times. At least he would hopefully get a couple hours of sleep before they continued on the rest of the journey. Clarke startled him by touching his bicep, causing him to flinch.

"Hey, it's me," she immediately soothed. "Are you okay?" Bellamy smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead while the other two weren't paying attention.

"I'm fine. Just ready to be there. Do you have the flint?" he asked. She held it out to him wordlessly, but smiled.

"We'll be there soon enough. Let's get this fire started so that we can get some sleep."

A half hour later, they lay down on the rocks, trying to get as comfortable as possible. He and Clarke kept a comfortable distance between them, but he reached out his arm and wiggled his fingers for her.

"Hold my hand while we fall asleep," he said in a low voice. Clarke took it happily, closing her eyes and drifting off. Bellamy watched for a while as she slept, unable to do so himself until after Clarke had been woken up to take her shift.

It felt like he'd only shut his eyes for a minute when Clarke was gently shaking him awake. Wordlessly, he took up his position, sitting still until the sun rose and everyone began to stir. Within the hour, they were packed up and on their way, making small talk as they trekked through the woods.

Out of nowhere, a gunshot rang out, causing Bellamy to shout, "Weapons! Take cover! Go, go, go!" The group scattered, hiding behind trees and bushes until they saw their enemies.

"It's Pike's rogue men!" Monty shouted, ducking behind a tree to avoid the bullets whizzing by.

"Harper, watch out!" Clarke yelled, and the other girl dropped to the ground, rolling out of harm's way.

"Monty, move!" Bellamy's voice rose above the noise as he sprinted to push the other boy out of the way. The bullets slowed as the four took out their attackers and began to jog down the path they'd made.

"Go, let's get out of here as fast as we can. I'll take the front; Harper, round up the back. Keep your weapons drawn. Let's move!" The eyes of Bellamy, Clarke, Monty, and Harper flicked around them as they ran, looking out for any more danger.

"Bellamy Blake, you've betrayed Pike!" a voice bellowed as the body connected to it jumped out in front of them, firing his gun. Harper immediately returned fire, and the man dropped at the same time as Bellamy staggered back, hand on his chest and face frozen in surprise.

"Bellamy!" Monty shouted, rushing toward him as he collapsed and hit the ground. Harper and Clarke rushed to his aid, taking up positions around him.

"Bellamy? Bellamy, move your hand so I can see. Shh, you're going to be alright," Clarke soothed, although she was panicked herself. Bellamy gazed up at her, finally seeming to realize what had happened.

"Shawn—" he ground out, eyes flickering to the other body on the path. "Shawn, he—"

"Shh, he's dead. It's okay. Harper took care of him," Clarke responded, gently pushing Bellamy's hand away from his wound. His gaze turned to Harper, and he stared at her as if trying to figure out what happened, earning her worried and forced smile. Clarke pulled his jacket open, and heard Monty suck in a breath.

"Jesus," he exhaled. "Clarke—"

"I know, Monty! Shut up!" she snapped, pushing his already blood-soaked shirt up so she could look at the wound more closely. Bellamy's head lolled to the side, and Harper tapped his cheek.

"Stay with us, Bellamy. You're going to be fine." His eyes turned from her to Clarke, as if looking for a second opinion. She didn't meet his eyes, instead opting to clear some of the blood away. It pulsated with every beat of his heart, gushing more blood out of the bullet hole every time.

"Damn it!" she swore, obviously panicked. "I can't keep it clear enough. Monty, just put pressure on it!" He obeyed, avoiding Bellamy's eyes as he pushed down and caused the other man to cry out in pain before squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw. He could feel himself fading, and reached out for Clarke with his bloody fingers.

"Clarke," he whispered hoarsely, blood beginning to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. "It's okay. It's too late. It's okay." She met his eyes, chest heaving and tears trickling down her cheeks.

"No, Bellamy, it's okay. It's going to be fine. You're alright," she said soothingly, although none of them believed it. Harper let out a choked noise; and Monty was swallowing down his own tears.

"Clarke," Bellamy groaned, trying to keep his head up. "It's okay. Let me go. I—it—it's time," he breathed, eyes losing focus.

"It's not time, Bellamy! It's not. Just stay with me, please. It'll be alright, I promise. Just stay awake," Clarke pleaded. Monty continued to put pressure on the hole in his chest, though he knew it wasn't doing anything but buying him a few more moments.

"Hold...hold my hand. I'm falling asleep." The words came quietly from Bellamy's blood stained lips, and Clarke clutched his hand with both of hers. He managed to turn up the corner of his mouth in a sort-of-smile as his eyes fluttered, trying desperately to stay awake.

"I'm so sorry, Bell. I'm so sorry," Clarke forced out, wiping blood from his face. He squeezed her hand once, with all the strength left in his body, before his chest fell for the last time and he went limp, eyes staring into nothingness.