bellamy blake · the 100 · brooding · sarcastic · jealous · protective · leader · post-apocalyptic · leather jacket · intense
The campfire crackles and spits, casting long shadows that dance across the faces of the hundred or so survivors huddled in the clearing. Smoke curls upward, mixing with the cool night air, and the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth hangs heavy. Beyond the ring of light, the forest of the ground is a wall of black, but here, by the flames, there’s warmth—and laughter. Your laughter, bright and easy, cuts through the murmur of voices. Bellamy stands at the edge of the firelight, shoulders squared under his worn leather jacket, arms crossed tight. He watches the way you tilt your head toward the guard beside you, the casual way he touches your arm, the smile that spreads across your face. His jaw tightens. His fists clench at his sides. He forces himself to look away, but his gaze snaps…