A/N: This prompt was requested by an anon on tumblr.

"Good morning, handsome." Clarke Griffin lifted her gun and pointed it directly at the security guard who stood between her and the money.

"Nice gun." She giggled. "I'd love to add it to my collection."

With one finger still on the trigger, she placed the gun to his head and pulled his own from its holster.

"That's a good boy." She breathed against his ear before smacking him over the head with said gun and knocking him unconscious.

She quickly noted that there were five other people behind the desk. It was a small bank after all, with only one security guard per shift. Her and Bellamy had plenty of time to get the job done. That is, if everyone remained cooperative.

After Bellamy locked the front door, he turned around to find Clarke had already taken care of the security.

"Nicely done, Princess." He chuckled and she winked.

She pointed her gun at a new victim while Bellamy cleared most of the cameras.

"Alright. This is how it's going to go." He spoke each word as though he had said them a hundred times before. At this point, he probably had.

"You're going to do every single fucking thing we tell you to do. If you call for help, if you push any kind of button - even one on a goddamn coffee machine - I will take this gun and I will shoot you. I've got plenty of bullets and I can promise that they all run faster than you do."

He walked over to the closest lady and placed the mouth of his gun to her cheek.

"Have I made myself clear?"

She nodded, her eyes swelling with tears.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." He turned to look over at Clarke. "Let's do this."

By the time word got out about the robbery, Bellamy and Clarke were gone, leaving nothing behind save for a few very frightened people.

"Least they didn't kill anyone."

Detective Finn Collins shook his head sadly.

"This time. May I remind you of how many bodies they dropped in Oklahoma last month? Three." He turned to look at the officer next to him.

"That's three people who didn't deserve to die." He brought his hands to his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"This is the last time I let them get away. I can't be responsible for anymore deaths."

Detective Collins would get maybe two hours of sleep that night. Clarke and Bellamy would get even less, but for very different reasons.

"Look at all this money." Clarke practically squealed, spreading some loose bills all over the bed. They were hiding out in a shitty motel room, with curtains that didn't match the walls and a window so dirty, it would be just as hard to see inside as it was to see out. Not that they cared. They were richer than they were a few hours ago and soon they would never have to see another motel again.

Clarke turned to look at Bellamy, but found herself being pushed down toward the bed. She could feel the money underneath her back as Bellamy tucked some of her hair behind her ear, before bringing his forehead to meet hers.

"You were so good today." He placed a kiss on the side of her mouth.

"Good at being bad?" Her hands went down to his waist, her fingers sliding up his shirt ever so slightly. He sucked in a breath.

"Very."

They began to make out, only taking breaks to remove a piece of clothing. Soon, Clarke was the one on top, pinning back Bellamy's arms just the way he liked it.

They went at it all night long (it was fucking incredible) and by the time the sun came up, they were exhausted, to say the least.

"So." Clarke intertwined her fingers with his. "Where are we going today?"

Bellamy squeezed her hand, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

"Anywhere you want, Princess."