Bellarke fics
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Summary
This is the season 2 retelling of the 100 that you’ve been looking for. Bellarke, found family, darkness, and hope. You’re going to love it. I got your back. I promise.
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." -Friedrich Nietzsche
A season 2 Bellarke rewrite where bonds are forged--friendship and romance--and Clarke doesn't leave after the Mountain. Begins with the Season 1 finale and follows the show until the Bellarke reunion in 2x05, and then I take dramatic liberties after that, which have rewarding and realistic-to-canon friendship and romantic payoff. Come along for the ride! And when you finish reading, I'll "see you on the other side". Lots of love. <3
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Finally, he wrenches his eyes shut and says, “May we meet again,” voice thick, and Raven pretends not to notice when he lifts a hand to swipe at his eyes.
Clarke doesn’t even make an attempt to hide the hitch in her breath on the other end, and it feels like someone has his heart in their fist, squeezing it until he can’t even breathe.
“We will,” she murmurs, so quiet that it’s almost lost amongst the crackle of static. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Bellamy Blake.”
or, a five year separation and everything that comes with it
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Bellamy Blake is infuriating. He does awful things like smile at her with that full-dimpled grin of his, taunting and magnetic, and it feels like a knife in the chest.
Or the one where Clarke's got a crush on her brother's best friend.
Series
- Part 1 of big love, small parts
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- Words:
- 58,842
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 13
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Summary
“Later?” Clarke grumbles blearily, half-asleep and stretching out unhelpfully as Bellamy stuffs a half-rolled scrap of repurposed bedding beneath the cradle of her pelvis.
The rough hand that abruptly cups the thin slice of underwear between her warm thighs make Clarke flinch a little, sleep-sweetened edges of awareness lending an extra dosing of pleasant frisson lapping down the length of her spine.
“Can't wait that long,” Bellamy complains, warm and calloused fingers tracing the soft outline of Clarke’s slit through the unremarkable fabric of her Ark-issued underwear. Pushy movements rolling the puffy lips of cunt with a practiced familiarity, a surprisingly patient motion meant only to get the blood pumping, enticing the soft wetness at the silken heart of her to blossom. Despite the ravenous tremble it ignites somewhere low and tender in the shaded reaches of Clarke’s being, the repetitive motion is almost enough to lull her back into a half-sleep of sorts.
“Need it now, baby. Please.”
or;
canonverse somnophilia au | fic songBookmarked by shesellsseashellsbytheseashore
08 Mar 2026
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