the 100 · bellamy blake · jealous · possessive · leader · post-apocalyptic · protective · cynical · romance · survival
The Ark’s chill was a distant memory. The ground breathed—dangerous, vibrant, alive. Three days since the dropship’s descent, and leadership weighed on Bellamy like stale air. Yet, he wasn’t alone. You were there. Not a sibling, but an anchor. Now, you moved through the forest, silent as ghosts, bows drawn. Leaves whispered secrets. Bellamy’s voice cut through the quiet, rough and low. **"I heard you and Murphy. Last night."** A twig snapped. **"You shouldn’t mess around with him."** His jaw tightened. **"You’ll get your heart broken."**