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CHAPTER THIRTY;

WRITTEN IN THE STARS.

[ content warning: sexual themes ]

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THERE WASN'T ENOUGH WORDS IN THE UNIVERSE TO ENCAPSULATE THE ENORMITY OF HAVEN'S DEVASTATION. It wasn't just a feeling of having the rug pulled out from under her; it was a violent upheaval, as if her entire universe had been torn asunder. The force of the blow was staggering, a brutal assault that left her senses reeling and her world in ruins. Yet, amid the wreckage, she somehow found herself still standing, grappling with the harsh reality of her shattered existence.

Everything she had ever known about the past five years had been a lie. Everything she had known about her own body had been a lie. The weight of impostor syndrome, once a mere whisper, now pressed down on her like a suffocating cloak as the truth of her myth's origins unraveled before her.

        It was a cruel irony, knowing that her very existence as Vampira was built upon the foundation of her own suffering. The horror of it all was unbearable, the magnitude of the deception unfathomable. There would be no Vampira without the existence of her stenosis. There would be no Vampira without her dying seven times.

        There would be no Vampira if Abby hadn't forced Haven to become her.

        Abby–the architect of her torment, the puppeteer pulling the strings of her life. Every surgery, every whispered promise of safety, every word spoken in confidence was nothing but a facade, a mask hiding Abby's true intentions. Haven had stupidly placed her faith in the hands of a monster, a manipulator who saw her not as a patient, but as an experiment.

        She didn't feel human anymore.

        Perhaps she hadn't for longer than she cared to admit. But to be confronted with the reality of her existence, to be revealed as nothing more than a pawn in Abby's twisted vendetta...it annihilated Haven to her core. She had been a puppet, a plaything for Abby's selfish ambitions, her trust mercilessly exploited for the sake of another's gain. It was an unbearable truth to swallow, the bitter taste of betrayal staining her every thought and action.

        Her suffering had been orchestrated by the very person she had once looked up to.

        Amidst the tangled fabrications, there was no singular lie to nitpick as the worst, for each falsehood had been crafted mercilessly. But, if she were forced to choose, perhaps their conversation shared over the radio would stand out as the worst of it.

        Instead of finally coming clean, Abby wove another tapestry of lies, painting a picture of a miraculous cure and a hopeful future. She spoke of healing—a newfound lease on life—all while concealing the truth of her own hand in Haven's demise. Her manipulation was masterful, her words a venomous poison disguised as salvation. While she may have repaired Haven's abnormal valve, she neglected to mention her own role in its creation. And when Abby also claimed to have moved Haven's execution date forward, it was not an act of mercy–but a sinister ploy to prolong her own experiments.

"Your resilience played a crucial role in the progress made this past year."

Abby's words echoed hollowly in Haven's mind, a cruel reminder of her own naivety. She should have seen through the lines from the moment the radio call ended. She should have been sharper, more discerning, and sensed the deception lurking beneath Abby's honeyed words. But instead, Haven had allowed herself to be swept away by a wave of faux relief, her tears of gratitude blurring her vision until she could no longer see the truth staring right at her.

That's what cut the deepest–the realization of her own gullibility, the bitter taste of self-condemnation cutting deeper than any lie ever could.

She was a fucking idiot.

And as she sat on the edge of Bellamy's cot, cradling her head in trembling hands, she found herself terribly, utterly empty.

Bellamy had told Haven everything, recounting every agonizing detail with such clarity that it felt like she was experiencing it all over again. But...she wasn't. Not really. Despite her earnest attempts, Haven couldn't remember even the faintest memory of that fateful day–and maybe that's what made it a thousand times worse. She was thrust from the depths of a nightmare into the harsh light of day, forced to confront the truth of her past without the comfort of memory to soften the blow.

Nothing felt real.

Despite Bellamy's gentle touch and the rhythmic drumming of his fingers against her knees, Haven remained adrift, disconnected from her own body and the world around her. He sat crouched at her feet, peering up through the veil of his shadowed lashes, painfully aware of his inability to ease her agony.

        Speaking felt like spitting out glass.

        "I...I don't," Haven whispered, "I can't..."

        "You don't have to say anything," Bellamy added softly, his own voice tinged with sadness as he fought to find the right words for her. "It's a lot. Too much. I'm–" He paused, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

Somehow, Haven managed to meet his eyes. "You said that you thought Abby killed me," she began, blinking rapidly against the swirling disorientation within her skull. "I–If you watched her repair my valve...why did you think I was dead?"

Bellamy drew in a long, shuddering breath. "While Abby was operating, you did go into cardiac arrest. That seems to be the only thing she hasn't lied about," he muttered, recalling the memory with a pained wince. "Jaha came back to Medical and noticed the OR was being used for longer than scheduled. Once she wrapped up the surgery, I had to go distract him. But by the time I came back, you were..."

        He curled his hands into fists atop her lap.

        "The operating room had been cleared. Everything was wiped clean in a matter of minutes." Bellamy averted his eyes, miserably attempting to conceal his clouded vision. "I-I had no idea where Abby had taken you. All I knew was that another guard told Jaha that somebody died. Of course, he didn't care. But...I...." His fists were shaking. "I thought you were dead, Haven. Gone. The last I'd ever seen of you...your heart was torn open on an operating table."

        Frantic, Haven clawed through the labyrinth of her mind, grasping at wisps of elusive memories that slipped through her fingers like smoke. "I don't remember any of it. Not even where I woke up," she admitted quietly. "Nothing besides the morphine injection."

        "I shouldn't have expected you to." Bellamy met her eyes this time, holding her gaze for a remorseful heartbeat before pressing forward. "Later that night, there was the masquerade dance. I-I wasn't thinking straight, and I needed something to keep me from shoving myself into the airlock chamber." He tore his eyes away once more. "I let Octavia go."

Haven gaped.

"You what?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen that way." Bellamy's words were hollow and distant, as if spoken from a place lightyears away from the present moment. "I tried to pull myself together, but I was sloppy. I was such a fucking disaster that I didn't think any of it through."

        The Smith girl could hardly even believe the severity of what Bellamy was admitting to her. Octavia was more than just his sister; she was his anchor, his reason for being. The thought of him sacrificing her existence on a whim of grief was almost inconceivable, a stark departure from the protective brother she knew him to be.

        Haven shook her head. "Abby threatened you."

        "Like I said, I was sloppy." Bellamy sighed, retracting one clenched fist from Haven's lap to sweep a distraught hand over his face. "With everything that happened, I wanted to give Octavia a chance. I wanted to see her happy. But then, just an hour into the party, solar flare warnings went out." Darkness eclipsed his gaze. "Everybody was required to scan their ID chips."

        Now, as Bellamy's tale unfolded before her, Haven could finally discern the ominous path it trailed. It demanded every ounce of her strength to contain the flood of tears threatening to spill, to refrain from joining him in the mourning of their tangled past. "Octavia didn't have one."

        His words were broken.

        "I lost both of you on the same damn day."

        At once, the remnants of Haven's heart shattered into a thousand tiny fragments, littering the wasteland of her ribcage like fallen stars in a moonless sky. The weight of Bellamy's sorrow was simply unthinkable. Yet, she knew him; she knew him well enough to recognize the abrupt metamorphosis he had undergone. He was no longer the person she once knew, but a mere shadow of his former self, molded and reshaped by the relentless grip of guilt and grief.

        He had willingly become who they needed to be, not out of a hunger for power–but out of a profound understanding of loss; he had already endured the agony of losing everything once, and he refused to let it happen again.

        But, within that devastation, a darker thought emerged. If Abby had threatened Bellamy before mysteriously vanishing, could she have orchestrated the solar flare alert? Could she have manipulated events to ensure Octavia's imprisonment, all to cement Bellamy's allegiance to keeping her experiments hidden?

Haven was shaking. "Bell–"

"They demoted me from guard to janitor once Octavia was found," Bellamy continued glumly. "I had no clearance to board Alpha anymore. I couldn't find Abby, I couldn't ask her what the hell happened to you or my sister. She didn't exactly try to find me either." Eventually, his hand gravitated back to her kneecap, setting upon it as if seeking to tether himself to the present. "But I tried. Every opportunity I could...I tried to sneak onboard, I tried to bribe a coworker to snoop, I tried."

Agony maimed his next words.

"I didn't..." His voice fell to a whisper. "I didn't even have visitation privileges to see Octavia."

Haven held her silence, partly to offer Bellamy the space to gather his thoughts, and partly because she felt at a loss for words. What could possibly be said to withstand his suffering? It was a question she couldn't answer. Yet, as she silently gripped his hand, she found solace in the fact that he didn't flinch away.

"So...that's where I was the past year. Grieving you. Looking for answers." Bellamy's admission drifted softly from his lips, a delicate whisper that belied the immense weight it carried. "I had finally come to terms with the fact you were gone. Shumway cut me the deal to board the dropship for Octavia. Next thing I knew, we were on Earth. And then..."

Tears shimmered in his eyes.

"I saw you."

Despair clung to his every word. It tore at him from the inside out, gnawing away at his resolve as he fought to string together his fragmented thoughts. "And then I saw Murphy. And all I could focus on was that you were alive, and that he was making you upset. I-I don't even remember punching him. I don't remember any of what happened next," he breathed, withdrawing his hand to futilely swipe at the moisture gathering in his eyes. "All I know is that when we were finally alone, finally face to face...I was looking at you, but you couldn't even look at me back."

        Memories from their first day on the ground assaulted Haven's mind with unrelenting force. She could still feel the exact moment where she and Bellamy found themselves alone, separated from the rest of the group venturing towards Mount Weather. And then, when she finally summoned the courage to meet his gaze—he had vanished, leaving behind a gaping void in his wake.

"I thought...I thought that you hated me, or that you thought I left you on purpose." Bellamy's hold on her fingers grew tighter, his thumb tracing intricate patterns across her skin with a distracted tenderness, as if seeking solace in the rhythm of his movements. "Once I knew you weren't going to say anything, I walked straight into the dropship and crumbled."

There it was; the raw, unvarnished truth.

For an entire year, Haven had yearned for this moment, for Bellamy to reveal the secrets that had plagued her mind. Every word he spoke seemed to offer clarity, each revelation meant to mend the chasm between them. Yet, as the truth unfolded into a conspiracy spanning across five agonizing years...Haven didn't know what to feel. Unsure of what emotions to embrace, or if she was even capable of feeling anything at all—the understanding she had longed for offered no refuge, no sanctuary.

It only brought her pain.

"I just..." Haven began, wrestling to quell the riotous ashes smoldering within her. "I...I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner. All this time since we landed—you kept it from me."

"I didn't know how much of it you remembered," Bellamy answered earnestly, fully cognizant of her grip beginning to slacken within his grasp. "I tried to tell you–so many times. But I got caught up in trying to survive, to lead. It looked like you wanted nothing to do with me, and I didn't want to involve myself if it only brought you more pain."

Haven knitted her brows. "So you let yourself think that I hated you–all because of what you chose not to tell me?" she deadpanned, her voice strained as the embers within her flared to life once more. "I get why you were gone, Bellamy. But what I don't understand is how you let me walk around so...obliviously."

A familiar ache settled in the pit of Bellamy's stomach, an unwelcome visitor he had dreadfully anticipated. This was precisely the torment he had sought to avoid—the agony of causing Haven any further hurt. Despite his longing to offer solace, to justify his actions, he also recognized the selfishness of it. He had made the call, and now she had to bear the weight of its consequences, free to react however her heart dictated—even if it meant despising him.

"I'm sorry," Bellamy whispered miserably, "I am so, so sorry, Haven."

        But it didn't feel like enough—not to either of them.

        Cruel magma seeped into Haven's veins as she absorbed his apology, yet felt no warmth from the sincerity it offered. "We've been on the ground for a month," she muttered lowly, shaking her head in disbelief. "You could've dragged me aside and forced me to listen."

        "I tried," Bellamy added tentatively. "In the cave. On the way to the depot. Unity Day." Raw, unbridled honesty burned in his eyes as he divulged the truth. "I tried, but every time, something else got in the way—someone else tried to kill you, or somebody else got murdered."

"It doesn't matter." Haven could hardly even believe the justification spewing from his lips. "It doesn't. I-I deserved to know what happened to my body the moment you realized I was alive." She desperately longed to retreat into the sanctuary of her own flesh, but the bitter reality remained—her body was no longer her own; it hadn't been for five years. "I even told you that Abby said I was cured...and you said nothing."

        Bellamy reflexively stiffened. "How could I have told you that while you were drunk?" he asked, desperately seeking her eyes, searching for a connection that seemed to slip through his grasp. "How could I have casually dropped the bomb that would've changed your entire life? I know it was stupid. I should've done it sooner. I didn't—"

        "My life was already changed the second we stepped foot onto the ground. All of our lives were." Haven retorted fiercely, though her ferocity quickly dissolved into a devastated whisper. "It would've hurt then. But knowing that you kept it from me...it only hurts more now."

Bellamy knew that she was right.

"I fucked up," he admitted. "I'm sorry. I made the choice thinking it would protect you. But I guess I was sparing myself more than I thought." He clenched his jaw, chastising himself inwardly for allowing the situation to deteriorate to this extent. "I wasn't going to keep it from you forever. I just...I didn't know how to tell you. Everything around us has been so horrible. I..."

"You should have just let me die."

"What?" Bellamy rasped.

Haven stared at the boy kneeling before her with an intensity she couldn't quite discern. He epitomized everything she craved in that moment—honesty, remorse, sincerity—a stark contrast to the shadow the King of the Earth had become. Yet instead of finding solace in his authenticity, it only stoked the fires of her fury, exacerbating the wounds that marred her soul and tainted her vision with scarlet.

"You should have just let me die," she repeated, wrenching her hand from his delicate grasp and rising to her feet. "It would've spared us both the misery."

At once, Bellamy stood. "Haven—"

        "Don't," Haven interjected sharply, her hand raised to quell any protests as she paced towards the far end of the tent. "I...I don't know what's real anymore. All I know is that my body has never been my own. All I know is that you put a gun to someone's head to try and make it right, only to keep it from me." Her heart began to riot. "While you were worried that I hated you over the past month—you forgot that I thought you hated me for the past year."

        Every fiber of Bellamy's being strained against the urge to lessen the widening gap between them. Yet, he remained rooted in his spot across from her, wary of setting off a minefield. "Hated you?" he echoed, "Haven, I could never hate you."

        "Were you in on it?"

        Bellamy's jaw unhinged. "What the fuck, Haven? Of course not."

        "You let me walk around like an idiot," Haven spat, her fingers twitching restlessly at her sides, vying for something to hurt, to hold. "If you cared about me, you would've told me the moment that you saw me. Not waited until I died again."

"Don't say that." Bellamy's words seared through the air like hot iron, decisively daring a step closer to the trembling girl before him. The peril of his action faded into insignificance against the accusation she flung at him. "If I didn't care about you—I wouldn't have forced Abby to save your life."

"I never asked you to do that!"

Haven's wrath was increasing at a rapidly alarming speed. Everything around her felt blurry, twisted, hallucinatory; it was far too difficult to discern what was real anymore. Her shattered world lay before her feet, her heart bearing the scars of a battle she never asked to fight. Yet, it wasn't the physical pain fueling her rage. Something primal within her was crashing against the walls of her psyche, burning with an intensity she couldn't comprehend. It shrieked within her, an ugly cacophony of despair and rage—yet she couldn't pinpoint its origin.

"You disappeared. You lied," she pressed, her eyes flashing wildly as she fought to suppress the inferno raging within her. "And what? Now I'm supposed to be grateful for something that I can't even remember?" Every word was bitten out through clenched teeth. "I never asked you to do any of this, Bellamy."

"So I should've just let you die, then?" Bellamy countered, an exasperated crease deepening between his brows as he tilted his head. "Look, I get why you're upset. You should be. If you want to hate me–fine. I know I should've told you sooner." He braved another step closer. "But I'm not going to apologize for keeping you alive."

Vengeful stars erupted beneath Haven's skin, their fiery glow pulsating with each step Bellamy took. Merely two feet separated them now, yet the space did little to quench the heat rioting within her. "You shouldn't have!" Her words were a searing indictment, punctuated by the wild shake of her head as she instinctively stepped backwards. "You could've gotten yourself killed! You risked everything—your job, your sister, your life!"

"Stop talking about yourself like that."

"Like what?" Haven hissed. "I'm talking about you!"

"Like you're not worth all of it!" Bellamy's words flew from his mouth with an intensity that startled the both of them. His breaths fell into sync with Haven's own erratic rhythm, each inhalation a stabbing reminder of their shared turmoil. "You might be at peace with dying, Haven, but I'm not. I...I can't—I'm not living in a world without you in it," he panted, "I won't."

        Amidst the vortex of her own emotions, Haven could hardly even grasp the confession that lay within his words. "That doesn't mean you should get yourself killed in the process! The Council could have floated you, Bellamy!" she shouted, "What if you saved my life, only to end up dead? What then? What was the fucking point?"

Silence darkened the air between them.

Feverish tears pooled in Haven's eyes, their scorching heat tracing fiery paths down her cheeks. She made no effort to wipe them away; instead, she let herself incinerate. Each tear ignited a conflagration within her, every cell engulfed in the incandescent fury of her own emotions. And the longer the quietude stretched, broken only by the rhythmic cadence of their breath, clarity emerged in a slow, smoldering crawl.

Whether she liked it or not, Haven could understand everything Bellamy had done, down to the smallest of fragments. It didn't just bother her; it infuriated her. Yet, beneath the surface, an undeniable truth seeped into her bones, refusing to be ignored, demanding to be felt. Slowly, painstakingly, she unearthed the essence of her rage, recognizing it as more than mere resentment or anger; it was a primal, gut-wrenching fear—a fear of facing the world without him.

How could she?

        Bellamy was the first to fracture the quiet.

        "Then I would've died, knowing that I did all that I could to keep you safe," he breathed, lessening the distance between them as if drawn by an unseen force. "It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with you."

Haven knitted her brows, the gravity of his words slowly beginning to permeate her consciousness. "I can't stand you." Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles turning white as her trembling intensified, yet she remained rooted in place, unwilling to retreat any further. "I can't believe you could be so....so..."

"So what?" Bellamy's question was half-minded; he didn't particularly care which vulgar insult she'd hurl his way—at least she'd be talking through what she felt. Then, his gaze wandered to her restless hands. "If you need to hit me–do it."

        Weakly, Haven shoved her palms against his chest, the force feeble yet desperate; once, twice, three times. "So....selfless!" she choked out, her intended fiery strength failing to materialize. "So stupidly," Again. "Fucking," Again. "Selfless!"

Of all the venomous words Bellamy had fully braced himself to endure from her—selfless was at the very bottom of his list. "How do you think I feel everytime you put your life on the line?" he countered, unyielding beneath the pressure of her hands. "How do you think I feel, watching you die, only for you to try and do it all over again?"

"Thie isn't about me!" Haven shoved against Bellamy's chest once more, only for her next attempt to be halted by his fingers coiling around her wrists, gently steadying her in place. "You could've died trying to save me—for what? For why?"

Bellamy's restraint hung by a fragile thread.

"Because—"

"Why would you risk everything?" Haven cried, unable to resist the fresh torrent of tears obscuring her vision. Uselessly, she attempted to retreat, but Bellamy's unyielding hold only drew her closer, lulling her into his inescapable orbit. "Why does my life matter so much to you?"

"Because I love you!"

Haven ceased to breathe.

Every comet streaking through the heavens above paused mid-flight, suspended in the ether. Every planet ceased its spin on its axis, frozen in the infinite expanse of space. Every star adorning cosmos dimmed its luminous glow, as if bowing in reverence to the monumental declaration, waiting to ignite the sky once more. The entire universe held its breath, every atom, every nebula, every particle lifted in a timeless pause as existence itself ground to a halt—one that could rip a hole through the fabric of reality, one that would alter the course of their destinies forever.

        "I love you," Bellamy declared. "And it is the easiest thing I have done in my entire life."

        Haven could feel herself undoing, the foundation of her very being crumbling beneath the enormity of Bellamy's devotion. "Don't say that," she whispered, "You—"

        "I love you." Bellamy repeated the words fearlessly, unflinchingly, staring at her with the certainty of a star that had finally found its way home. "I love you—and I don't care if that means facing death. I don't care if you never speak to me again. I don't care if you spend the rest of your life avoiding me, hating me...at least you'd be alive." A veil of vulnerability shrouded his eyes, transparent as glass. "At least I could've done one thing right."

Something dormant stirred beneath the delicate tissue of Haven's chest, awakening like a supernova ignited by the pull of a distant star—a force so staggeringly intense that it seemed to stretch her heart a thousandfold, swelling, straining against its confines until it felt as if her entire being was on the verge of rupture. And yet, despite how gargantuan it felt, Haven didn't fear it in the slightest.

        Not when its existence had resided within her for five years.

        Haven's devotion to Bellamy Blake was unyielding, an all-encompassing force that coursed through her veins, an unbreakable bond that defied reason or doubt. It pulsed within her with such ferocity that it felt as if it were carved into the very marrow of her bones, an unrelenting presence that consumed her every thought, every breath. She didn't just feel it; she embodied it, a relentless passion that burned with the fervor of a thousand suns, leaving no room for hesitation or uncertainty.

        All of this time, she had grown so accustomed to its existence that she scarcely paused to consider the significance of every shared touch, every whispered word that lingered between them. It blurred the lines of friendship into something deeper, something unspoken yet dangerously undeniable. And now—to hear she was not only loved, but loved in return, birthed an entirely new genesis of upheaval. She was falling apart from within, dissolving into the depths of his admission before being lifted up once more, guided to stand.

The truth was eternal.

It had always been him, only him, forever him—a force of nature that transcended the boundaries of time and space, fusing their souls together in an unbreakable bond that defied all logic and reason.

"I could never hate you," Haven whispered.

The admission floated delicately amidst the mere inches of space that kept them apart. Gone was the torrent of cataclysmic rage—swiftly replaced by something softer, yet equally as lethal.

With hearts roaring in sync, tortured breaths mingling in the charged air, their hands remained the sole barrier between their torsos. Bellamy's hands, once tightly clasped around her wrists, now hovered just centimeters above her waist, tantalizingly close yet agonizingly out of reach. Suspended in the static, his fingertips quivered with the pulse of unspoken longing, aching to bridge the divide between them once and for all.

"I understand if you do, but..." Bellamy's gaze lingered momentarily on the soft curve of her lips, betraying a selfish desire, before snapping back to meet her eyes once more. "...I hope that you don't."

        Every carefully crafted wall Haven had built around herself was crumbling into wisps of ephemeral ash, engulfed by the flame that burned within her. But it's heat was no longer a force of devastation; instead of allowing it to devour her, she rose up within it, consumed by a magnetism that ignited solely for him.

       Always for him.

        And as she boldly entwined her fingers around the nape of his neck, crashing her lips against his—their mouths collided in a blaze that eclipsed the sun.

        Haven kissed him as though he were the culmination of every longing she had ever known, as though he were the cosmic glue that forged every fragmented piece of her soul into unity. He tasted like the very fire stars were born from, the raw power behind every natural disaster in the universe, and yet, paradoxically, the balm that soothed its wretched aftermath. He was everything, all at once, aglow with the most spellbinding and brilliant intensity imaginable.

        As she slowly withdrew, lips pulsating with the residual sting of their kiss, her hands remained suspended behind his neck, reluctant to sever the magnetic pull between them. It wasn't a gesture to halt their momentum; rather, it was to give voice to the sentiments that had dwelled within her for eons.

        "I love you."

         Bellamy stood motionless, his hands still poised in the charged space above her waist, each breath a battle as he absorbed the gravity of her admission. His ears rang with a deafening roar, the sound of his own disbelief echoing in the caverns of his mind. How could such words be real? He didn't deserve her love—he knew it deep in his bones. Yet, as her hand ventured to cup his jaw, thumb tracing the contours of his cheek, he found himself utterly defenseless.

        "Don't say it—not if you don't mean it." Bellamy whispered. With every ounce of strength, he resisted the primal urge to drag her closer, to meld their bodies together in an embrace that defied reason. "Don't make me believe it."

         "I love you," Haven murmured softly, her lips brushing against Bellamy's jaw in a tender assault on his defenses. The first utterance evoked a guttural curse that reverberated from the depths of his throat, while the second sent his hand darting towards the desk behind him for support. "I love you."

        Bellamy sucked in a shaky breath. "Haven..."

        Unceasingly, Haven trailed her mouth down to his throat, relishing the tremor of the low hum that escaped him in response. "I want you," she whispered, her left hand firm against his jaw while her right trailed down his shirt, igniting a trail of fevered anticipation. "I need you."

         Screwing his eyes shut, Bellamy involuntarily tilted his head back, his grip on the desk becoming almost lethal in its intensity. "Say it again."

        "I need—"

        His restraint shattered.

        All at once, his mouth seized hers with a intrinsic hunger, one hand wrenching her closer while the other pushed off the desk with a force that threatened to splinter it. With a possessiveness that bordered on savage, his grip on her waist tightened, as if staking a claim on her very essence. Simultaneously, his hand clutched the side of her throat, fingers tangling in the nape of her hair as he devoured her with a ferocity that knew no bounds, each kiss a declaration of his unbridled desire.

One second melded seamlessly into the next, time losing all meaning as Haven became a creature of pure sensation beneath his touch. She was nothing but molten warmth, her sense of grounding slipping further away with every caress. She scarcely registered the movement of her own feet towards the cot as Bellamy's fingers traced lines of pale fire across her shoulders, discarding the jacket, his jacket, that had cloaked them in its embrace.

He halted at the barrier of her tank top, skimming over the torn up fabric with eyes black as night. "Do you—"

"Please," Haven whimpered. "Please."

And then he was peeling the fabric away from her, ripping it apart exactly where Raven's blade had left its mark only hours before. Satisfied, his mouth descended once more, a searing trail of heat igniting a path from her lips to her jaw, her throat, her collarbones. Each touch was an exquisite torment, a cacophony of lust and longing as he consumed every inch of her skin laid bare before him.

Still, the cruel truth remained—close wasn't close enough. They needed to swap skin, to see each other through different eyes, to dissolve into a cataclysmic union of bliss that transcended earthly bounds.

"You're so..." Bellamy's words were a ragged whisper, emitting from his lips in a hot rush of air as Haven tore his shirt from over his shoulder blades. "...fucking..." A low, sultry groan tore from his throat as she brushed her fingers over the waistband of his cargos, prompting him to reach for hers. "...needy."

Though her cells revolted against the prospect, Haven tilted her head coyly, ceasing her movements and daring an impossible step backwards.

Just as she expected him to do—Bellamy's reaction was visceral, instinctive. Like tendrils of fate, his fingers curled into the delicate fabric of her underwear, seizing her and tugging her back into his embrace with an irresistible force.

A triumphant smile graced Haven's swollen lips. "Who's needy now—?"

Her victorious facade shattered into a lustful gasp as Bellamy deliberately slid a finger inside of her. It was astonishing how rapidly her resolve had eroded; it was humiliating how rapidly the gentle pulse of his movements unraveled her. Lightning flashed across vision. Stars swirled above Bellamy's crown of curls. Pathetically, she found herself gripping his bicep, her nails sinking into his bare skin as he expertly teased her nerve endings with the pad of his thumb, his middle finger still curling relentlessly inside her. With no respite to catch her breath, a strangled moan escaped her lungs, fighting desperately against the urge to sink against his palm.

        But Bellamy was far from finished.

        "Seems like it's still you," he declared gloatingly, dismissing her earlier jab with effortless efficiency. "Get on the desk."

        Summoning every ounce of strength, Haven forced herself to meet his gaze, blinking against the kaleidoscopic hues distorting her vision. His pupils dilated into bottomless pools of darkness, cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, muscles taut and veins pulsating in the flickering candlelight—all with his finger still buried inside her. He was beautiful, intoxicating; the sight of him alone was enough to disorient her even further.

        "What—?" Haven breathed.

        "Get on the desk," Bellamy repeated. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her underwear, bringing his fingers to his lips to suck the remnants of her starlight clean off. "Come on, angel. Sit pretty while I eat you out."

        Haven's knees buckled.

        But before she could surrender to gravity, Bellamy hoisted her into his arms, her legs instinctively straddling his waist as he hauled her to the nearby desk. Every object that littered the space was callously flung aside. His fingers ignited supernovas to fester beneath her skin as he deftly rid her of her boots and socks, casting them away with reckless abandon. Then, he expertly undid the remaining buttons of her pants, leaving her seated before him in nothing but the thin fabric of her underwear.

        Now, Bellamy's own knees threatened to give out beneath him.

Nothing in existence could adequately capture the depths of Haven's beauty. It was a visceral force, a tempest of contradictions that ignited a firestorm within him, swallowing his very being. Her allure was not merely captivating; it was a relentless assault on his senses, rendering him utterly breathless. She was a luminary, moonlight and sunshine incarnate; frigid yet blistering, soft yet sharp, intoxicating yet grounding. Her very presence commanded a power capable of reshaping the earth itself—a crater marked by the imprint of angel wings.

If Haven didn't carry a god complex by now...Bellamy swore to the stars above that he'd gift her one. For far too long, she had buried her halo and dodged heaven's calls; tonight—she was his.

"You're everything." Bellamy murmured, his voice barely above a breath, eyes drawn to the scarlet flush of her lips as she reached for his forearm. "Everything."

Kissing her felt like coming home.

His movements were softer now. Delicately, he slid off her underwear, his mouth never straying far from hers as he stood between her parted knees. One hand possessively cradled the back of her neck, his tongue cresting over hers, while the other hand traversed the expanse of her hip and upper thigh. His lips insistently trailed a path of constellations along her throat, planting tender marks that he knew she would regret in the morning. But in the moment–he couldn't find it within himself to care. With every nip at her collarbones, he elicited soft sighs of pleasure, his mouth descending further, mapping every curve of her chest, tracing the contours of her torso, until finally—they reached the apex between her thighs.

Slowly, he knelt before her.

"Think you can stay quiet for me?" Bellamy's voice was low, a tantalizing promise as his tongue traced a slow path across her inner thigh. "Or do I have to cover your mouth?"

Haven miserably attempted to stifle the whimper rising within her, the velvety timbre of his voice unraveling her resolve with every word. Could she stay quiet? That was a question she certainly didn't have the answer to. Not as his mouth hovered achingly close to her entrance, every cool exhale intensifying the molten warmth pooling within her core.

With a feeble shake of her head, she nodded.

A sensual gleam consumed Bellamy's eyes.

"Good girl."

         Then, his tongue descended. It relentlessly lapped over Haven's slickened core—swirling, sucking, devouring her with a reverence that bordered on worship. Her body jerked with pleasure, back arching involuntarily, fingers gripping the unruly tangle of his curls and tugging him closer, closer, closer. The action elicited an immediate groan from Bellamy's throat, rumbling against her with a vibration that bordered on pure ecstasy.

So—she simply tugged harder.

Again, Bellamy moaned against her, prompting her hips to buck, though his dedication to take her to the stars and back was unwavering. If she wanted to use his face as a vessel for her climax, so fucking be it. Yet, beneath his selflessness lurked a primal hunger of his own—a craving to be consumed by her essence, to be drowned in the flood of her euphoria until even her own name became an afterthought.

With a cunning finesse, he continued to skillfully circle her clit with his tongue, each flick a tantalizing tease that threatened to shatter her completely. And then, with deliberate precision, he inserted a finger inside her, determined to push her over the edge.

Haven moaned. Loudly.

"Stay quiet," Bellamy murmured against her flesh, utilizing his free hand to rake up her body before clamping loosely around her throat. "Stay quiet and come for me."

Now—Haven was writhing; it was impossible not to scream as he glided a second finger within her. Internally, his fingers curled with precision, coaxing her towards the brink of oblivion, while externally, his mouth continued its relentless assault, driving her to the edge and beyond. She was floating, soaring, airborne and evolving into force destined for ruin. Uncontrollably, her hands abandoned Bellamy's hair, seeking purchase on his shoulders and clawing fiercely against his naked skin, eliciting another vibration of pleasure from him.

"Bell—"

And then, as if yielding to the inevitable—she shattered.

        Galaxies exploded within Haven's veins and streaked across her vision until she was certain she was more stardust than human. Jagged gasps tore from her lips, torn between the bliss consuming her and the need to silence the primal cries threatening to flee. Still buried between her thighs, Bellamy adjusted his grip, moving from her throat to her jaw, where he gently slid his pointer finger between her teeth. Immediately, she clamped down on it, the pressure serving as her sole tether to reality.

Bellamy planted one last kiss upon her core before withdrawing and rising to his feet. "Look at you," he whispered, grazing his thumb across his lower lip as he gestured towards the space he had occupied moments before. "Look at the mess you made. Look at what you do to me."

But Haven couldn't find her voice, couldn't draw in a mere breath. Every nerve within her thrummed with lingering pulse of his touch, rioting against the impending comedown of her high—yet yearning for more. As she finally managed to steal a glance downward, Bellamy had already lifted her from the desk, her body melding seamlessly against his bare chest as he tenderly lowered her onto his cot.

        His shoes were the first to go, swiftly followed by his cargos and underwear, creating a trail of discarded garments strewn across the ground. Not once did Bellamy break his stare with Haven as he undressed. She lay there, enraptured by his presence, her long locs splayed out around her like an obsidian halo.

Time blurred into nothingness as he finally sunk into her.

A plethora of curses slipped from Bellamy's swollen mouth as he curled one arm beneath her lower back, steadying himself above her and drawing her closer. Lips crashing, foreheads pinned together, breaths in sync—they dissolved entirely, wholly, blissfully—clutching each other as if afraid of being swallowed by the night, as if unable to fathom an existence outside of this very moment.

        They felt human again.

Death, war, and every looming threat that had cast shadows over their lives seemed to shrink into insignificance. As they fused into one, their identities blurred, shedding themselves of the weighty titles and burdensome horrors that had defined them. No longer Vampira and the King of the Earth, they were stripped down to their most elemental selves—a girl and a boy, bound together by the spellbinding string of fate.

To love and be loved is to feel the sun on both sides.

And as Haven caught her reflection flickering in the eyes of the boy above her, rising from his wildfire like a phoenix from the ashes—she was reminded of her true self, where she belonged, and who she belonged to.

        Him.

        It had always been him.

• •

.....SO HI

SMUT GIRLIES....i hope this sufficed🤭 its only likeee mildly rated r lol. clarke and finn are just like ??? damn haven you let yourself get dickmatized and forgot about us THAT fast

but fr YAAAAAAAALLL!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭🥲🥲🥲🥲🙃 I actually have tears in my eyes lol. this chapter is the most special one i've written, ever. WE MADE IT!!!! WE FUCKING MADE ITTTTT!!!!!!!! AFTER 30 CHAPTERS, NEARLY 190K WORDS....THE CONFESSIONALS ARE OUUTTTTT!!! baven is in loveeeeeeeee but we knew that way before they did :,)

i hope everything feels more meaningful now!! like having haven kind of randomly die was very intentional, having bellamy lose her again was intentional...it's all led to this 😭

also i screwed with canon again! octavia was originally locked up during the unity day dance (girl at least i think so) but i altered it to it fits better with the plotline for this book

everything is out in the open now. im like in shock i made it this far into rewriting, i am so immensely proud of developing them up until this point. and there is still more to come! dont forget we got more plot outside of their romance. the rug hasnt been pulled out from under you yet! not all the way😏

I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!!!