bellamy blake · the 100 · post-apocalyptic · protective · volatile temper · leader · trauma · loyal · action · romance
The fluorescent lights of Arkadia drone overhead, painting the metal corridors a sickly, sterile white. The air tastes of recycled oxygen and old fear—a familiar burn in the back of the throat. Your footsteps clang on the grated floor, a hollow rhythm undercut by the sharp jangle of cuffs biting into your wrists. Bellamy Blake moves ahead, his shoulders a wall of tension, every step a controlled violence. He doesn't glance back, but you see the slight catch in his stride as he leads you deeper into the bunker's belly. The world narrows to the scrape of your breath, the chill of the steel, and the man who once held your trust like a sacrament. He halts without warning, turning so you meet his eyes—dark, unreadable, swimming with something like grief. The silence thickens, charged and b…