A series of bellarke oneshots

Change for the better

Hi guys! That is by the same author as before! Leave comments on prompts you wants me to do!

There was a certain rhythm to running that Clarke enjoyed. She loved the feel of her feet pounding on the ground, pushing her to her limits and stretching her almost to her breaking points. She ran when she was stressed, or when she needed to think. She found she got a lot of quality thinking done when she ran, and she looked forwards to her runs because of it. Today was no exception, and she certainly had a lot to think about.

She'd only moved here recently. Her mother had decided that it was a good idea to move to America, and so she dragged a kicking and screaming Clarke along with her - away from her tightly knit circle of friends, and her lifelong best friend turned boyfriend Wells. They'd broken off their relationship, but she still missed him. In truth, she missed everything about England, and she had plans to move back there as soon as her senior year had finished. She missed Glass, and Luke, and Maya, and Lincoln, and Anya, hell, she even missed Lexa. Wells was first on the list though.

She continued running, pushing her limbs out, and attacking the pavement with her feet. Her mother had said that she'd get used to America, but she hated it already. She hated the heat, and the humidity. And the noise - she'd never get used to that. England wasn't exactly the quietest of places, but where she'd come from, just outside of Nottingham, was pretty small. She was used to snow, and sleet, and rain even in the summer. She was so deep in her thoughts, that she completely managed to miss seeing the other runner heading towards her, and she only realised that she wasn't alone when she was sitting on the (warm) concrete.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry," the voice sounds feminine, and a quick glance up confirmed that - or at least, that's what Clarke thought.

"No, it's alright, I wasn't watching," Clarke smiles, and takes the hand being offered to her.

She finds herself face to face with a girl. She was pretty, almost abnormally so, and Clarke immediately became aware of how her face was probably flushed and how her hair was in a sloppy ponytail. The girl smiles, revealing a set of perfect white teeth.

"I'm Octavia," she says. "I don't think I've seen you around here before, are you new?"

"Clarke. And yeah... Just moved to the place down the road with my mum," Clarke replies.

"Oh, number forty eight? Yeah, my brother and I were wondering who moved in there," comes the response. "We're in number fifty,"

Clarke blinks. Octavia just keeps on talking and talking. It's nice; refreshing, almost, to hear another human voice that isn't her mother.

"Cool," she nods.

"Yeah. Hey, you didn't wanna come over for a drink or anything, did you?" Octavia asks.

"What, now?" Clarke stares.

"Yeah, why not?"

Clarke smiles, and thinks that she could maybe like Octavia. She agrees, and then she's going to her house, and they're having a decent conversation - the usual things (oh, you're from England, cool; yeah, I miss it though; damn that sucks; etc, etc, etc) Clarke finds out that Octavia is going to the same school as her, and that she has a lot of friends, and a twin brother called Bellamy.

"Oh, Bellamy's home. Just a warning, he can be a bit of an ass sometimes," Octavia tells her as they walk into her house.

Clarke nods. Most boys are, she thinks. They get the drinks, and sit in the lounge, and are continuing their talk, when this creature walks into the room. He stares around, all large eyes and cheekbones and curly hair and tan skin, like he's God's own gift to mankind. His long lithe limbs are swathed in leather and denim, and Clarke thinks that he is without a doubt the most attractive human being she's ever seen in her life. She longs to get her pencils and capture his image; immortalise him on paper. And then he speaks, and the image is ruined.