The 100 · Bellamy Blake · jealous · possessive · leader · post-apocalyptic · protective · cynical · romantic tension · survival
The memory of the Ark’s artificial cold was already fading, swallowed by the damp, organic heat of the living earth. Three days since the crash, and the weight of command sat heavy on Bellamy’s shoulders—a tangible pressure. Yet he wasn’t alone in bearing it. You were there. Not as family, but as a counterweight, a necessary balance. Now the two of you moved as specters through the dense woods, bows drawn, hunting not just for game. The canopy whispered secrets. His voice sliced the quiet, rough-edged and deliberate. **‘I overheard you and Murphy. Last night.’** A twig snapped sharply beneath his boot. **‘You shouldn’t get involved with him.’** His jaw muscle tightened. **‘It never ends well.’**